Wishful Homesteader
Friday, June 9, 2006
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 From my inbox...

 

Read This  Slowly
Jack took a long look at his  speedometer before slowing down: 73
 in a 55 zone. Fourth time in  as many months. How could a guy get
caught
 so
  often?
 When his car had slowed to 10  miles an hour, Jack pulled over, but
only
 partially. Let the cop  worry about the potential traffic hazard.
Maybe
 some  other
 car will tweak his backside with a mirror. The cop was  stepping out
of
 his
 car, the big pad in
  hand.
 Bob? Bob from Church? Jack sunk farther into  his trench coat. This
was
 worse
 than the coming ticket. A cop catching a guy from his own church. A
guy
 who
 happened to  be a little eager to get home after a long day at the
office.
  A
 guy he was about to play golf with   tomorrow.
 Jumping out of the  car, he approached a man he saw every Sunday, a
man
 he'd
  never seen in uniform.
"Hi, Bob.  Fancy meeting you like   this."
 "Hello, Jack." No   smile.
 "Guess you caught me  red-handed in a rush to see my wife and  kids."
 "Yeah, I guess." Bob  seemed uncertain. Good.
 "I've seen some long days at the  office lately. I'm afraid I bent the
 rules
 a bit -just  this once."
 Jack toed at a  pebble on the pavement. "Diane said something about
roast
 beef and  potatoes tonight. Know what I mean?" "I know what you mean.
I
  also know
 that you have a reputation in our precinct ." Ouch. This  was not
going
in
 the right direction. Time to change   tactics.
 "What'd you clock  me at?"
 "Seventy. Would  you sit back in your car
  please?"
 "Now wait a minute here, Bob. I  checked as soon as saw you. I was
barely
 nudging 65." The lie  seemed to come easier with every  ticket.
 "Please, Jack, in  the car"
 Flustered, Jack  hunched himself through the still-open door. Slamming
it
 shut, he  stared at the dashboard. He was in no rush to open the
window.
 The minutes ticked by.  Bob scribbled away on the pad.
 Why  hadn't he asked for a driver's   license?
 Whatever the reason, it  would be a month of Sundays before Jack ever
sat
 near this cop  again. A tap on the door jerked his head to the left.
There
  was
 Bob, a folded paper in hand Jack rolled down the window a mere  two
 inches, just
 enough room for Bob to pass him the   slip.
 "Thanks." Jack could not  quite keep the sneer out of his  voice.
 Bob returned to his  police car without a word. Jack watched his
retreat
 in
  the mirror. Jack unfolded the sheet of paper. How much was this one
going
 to
 cost?
 Wait a  minute. What was this? Some kind of  joke?
Certainly not a ticket.  Jack began to read:
 "Dear  Jack, Once upon a time I had a daughter. She was six when
killed
by
 a
 car. You guessed it- a speeding driver. A fine and  three months in
jail,
 and
 the man was free. Free to hug his  daughters, all three of them. I
only
 had
 one, and I'm  going to have to wait until Heaven before I can ever hug
her
  again.
 A thousand times I've  tried to forgive that man. A thousand times I
 thought
 I  had. Maybe I did, but I need to do it again. Even now. Pray for me.
And
 be
 careful, Jack, my son is all I have   left."
  "Bob"
 Jack turned around in time  to see Bob's car pull away and head down
the
 road. Jack watched  until it disappeared. A full 15 minutes later, he
too,
  pulled
 away and drove slowly home, praying for forgiveness and  hugging a
 surprised
 wife and kids when he arrived.
 Life is precious. Handle with  care. This is an important message;
please
 pass it along to your  friends. Drive safely and carefully. Remember,
cars
 are
  not the only things recalled by their   maker.
 May today there be  peace within you. May you trust God that you are
exactly
 where  you are meant to be. "I believe that friends are quiet angels
who
  lift
 us to our feet when our wings have trouble remembering how  to
 fly."


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