The Rest of My Story

First, thanks to all of you who sent me such kind messages following my post last night. You guys blessed me in ways you’ll never know, really and truly blessed me. But I do want to say one thing … the reason I wrote about Gert last night and the few times I’ve written about Russell is not about me doing a good deed or helping people less fortunate. What I did to help those two precious souls is what I’m sure most, if not all, of you would have done as well. And if you wouldn’t have done the same thing, then the purpose of those posts is to encourage you to take a chance and reach out your hand to another in need. I always think of what my dad used to say when he would take food and clothes to the homeless men who camped out at the railyard. “Sam, we’re just the same as them … don’t ever forget that. We are all the same in God’s eyes … rich or poor, black or white, male or female … we are all the same to Him. He loves those gentlemen just as much as He loves me and you … He sure does, Sam … He loves us all the same.” Even as I type those words, I’m struck by one word in particular … gentlemen … Daddy always called the men at the railyard gentlemen. He never called them bums or homeless guys or vagabonds or drifters … Daddy always called them gentlemen. I’ll let you think about that one for a bit … there’s a gigantic lesson about respect for your fellow man in that word … gentlemen.

So now, on to the rest of my story from last night. After I left Gert, I was deep in thought about a lot of things as I drove home. Thoughts about the frail little woman whom I had helped climb into the dumpster and the tears that filled my eyes as she said she wasn’t sure when I asked her how long she had been walking the streets without shoes on her feet. Thoughts about the people who wrote the emails I had read before I left home. Thoughts about how a year ago, I didn’t want to live anymore. Thoughts about my sweet children and my precious granddaughter. Thoughts about Daddy … thoughts about how God loves us all the same. And while all of my deep thinking was in general a good thing, the fact that I was so deep in thought that I didn’t pay attention to how fast I was driving as I traveled through my neighborhood was not a good thing. The minute I saw the flashing lights in my rearview mirror, you can bet I was instantly pulled from deep thought mode and plopped hard into panic mode.

I already had my driver’s license and insurance information in my hand by the time the policeman approached my car, and I immediately apologized as I reached to give him the documents. He took the items from my hand and shined his flashlight directly into my eyes as I tried desperately to quiet my ferociously barking Oliver and convince him that biting a policeman is never a good idea for wiener dogs. Now I need to tell you at this point that after I’ve read a mountain of tiny legal print for several hours, my eyes get really bloodshot. That happens on a normal day, but on a day when I’ve worked late like I did last night and then cried as I spoke with Gert … well, suffice it to say that my eyes looked like I had just wrapped up a 10-day drink-fest. The minute the officer asked me to step out of my car, I knew I was in trouble. Remember what I did with my shoes last night? And did you know that it’s illegal to drive a car without shoes on? And if you did know that, well, good for you because I sure didn’t.

I’ll spare you all the details of my weepy, snot-dripping explanation to the policeman as to why I didn’t have on any shoes, but I will tell you this … it wasn’t very pretty. I kept wiping my eyes on one sleeve of my sweatshirt and my nose on the other and tried desperately to keep track of which sleeve was for which. Seriously, that would be gross to wipe my eyes with the same sleeve I wiped snot with … seriously, seriously gross. I’m not sure if the nice officer was actually moved by the description of my encounter with Gert or if he just felt sorry for me as I stood sock-footed and shivering before him or if he simply couldn’t think clearly with Ollie barking his crazy wiener dog head off, but whatever the reason, he didn’t give me a ticket … no ticket for speeding and no ticket for not wearing shoes while I was driving and no ticket for having bloodshot eyes. He didn’t even give me a ticket for my unrestrained beast of a wiener dog who was jumping from the front seat to the back as he tried to chew through the car door. Instead, he handed me my license and insurance card and said, "God bless you, maam ... please slow down."

I can't help but wonder tonight where Gert will spend the night, if she's warm, if she's had food today. And I can't help but echo the words of the officer last night when I say to each of you ... God bless you ... please slow down ... slow down and help someone ... slow down and listen to someone ... slow down and love someone.