a bit of history…

Friday night, I stopped by Walmart to pick up a few things before going home. I was talking to my mom on the phone in the parking lot because I wanted to ask if she had seen my insurance card for my car. The one in my car had expired, and I remembered seeing the new one but I couldn’t find it. I also knew I had a headlight out and was afraid I might get pulled over. She, of course, had not seen it.

So I went in, did my business and started my trip home. As I was driving, just before midnight, I got pulled over because my headlight was out. The cop was quite nice, told me I had a headlight out and that he doesn’t write tickets for that, and then asked for my driver’s licence. I kept waiting for him to ask for my proof of insurance, but he took my licence back to “run” or whatever they do with it. As I was sitting there, waiting for him to come back, it struck me that it was January 2nd.

Two years ago, to the day, I was in almost the exact position. My dad had been very ill for several months, hospice-ill, dying-ill. He was coming home from the hospital that day. I was working at a nursing home about half an hour away. I wanted to call in and stay at home with my family, but Mom insisted that I go to work because there really wasn’t anything for me to do at home.

So, I go. I get there and about five o’clock, mom calls up to work. “Come home, Dad’s not doing well.” I have to stand around for about twenty minutes or so while my nurse tries to contact the DON, to let me go home. (I think at this point in my life, I’d just leave. Screw formalities.) I was in a hurry to get home, obviously, and I was behind this slow car on the highway, so I took a back road thinking, “Yeah, the speed limit’s slower, but I can speed.” I forgot that it was five o’clock, not the normal time I’m driving through when the one small town along that road is deserted. I’m going about fifty in a forty when I see the lights behind me. The cop pulls me over, tells me I’m speeding, checks my insurance, runs the license and gives me a verbal warning.

As I was sitting there, Friday night, it was a very real reminder of the night of my dad’s death, and yet an everpresent reminder of God’s mercies.

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