Out Of The Blue

Reynolds is a small town about 15 minutes west of Fort Valley. It straddles Highway 96, a four lane road referred to as the Fall Line Freeway which cuts across the very heart of Georgia. We travel that road often.

In late March, Regina and I were heading home from our granddaughter's birthday in Alabana. The Reynolds police take their duties seriously, so I made sure to pay attention to my speed. Not that I was exceeding the posted speed prior to entering the city limits. At least not by much, anyway. I was shocked, then, when I saw blue lights behind me.

The officer was thorough and courteous, the picture of professionalism. Reynolds should be rightly proud of him as he represented them well. My offense, I learned, was that I was driving without proper registration, meaning my tag was out of date and expired. I felt like a Georgia Bulldog football player. Don't hate on me, Bulldog fans - I graduated from Georgia in 1985 and our football program has gained something of a reputation for its players' frequent traffic violations.

I messed up royally, telling the officer that we'd purchased the sticker but big dummy me hadn't put it on yet. While he was checking things out on that cool computer they now have in squad cars, it hit me that we were in Regina's car, not my truck. Georgia tag stickers are based on your birthday and I'd just celebrated by birthday that week, but I hadn't put my new sticker on. Regina, being two months older than me, should have gotten her sticker in January, but it'd somehow slipped by us. We hadn't even bought her new sticker! I had, in effect, lied to an officer of the law. That's not a good thing, one my Mama and Daddy would have had my hide for.

When the officer returned, before he could say a word, I fessed up and apologized for feeding him misinformation. He was very understanding and appreciated me clearing things up, especially since his computer had already informed him that the preacher of Fort Valley Methodist Church was not being particualrly forthright with him.

We parted on good terms, though I was now in possession of a ticket for driving a vehicle without proper registration. That is as it should be, though I wasn't thrilled by it. But, you do the crime, you gotta do the time, or pay the fine, as the case may be. So, back to Reynolds I went this week to pay my debt to society.

The lady running things at the City Municipal Court couldn't have been nicer (Reynolds has some excellent city personnel!). She took my name and birthday, tapped around on her computer, and then turned to me. "No charge," she said. "It's been reduced to a warning."

"A warning, ma'am?" I asked. "But why?"

"I have no idea," she answered, smiling. "Have a good day!"

Back in my truck, I sat a moment just staring at the Reynolds City Hall and trying to figure out why my charge had been dropped. The two months since Regina's birthday in January have been the hardest of my life. Brain scans, blood tests, doctor visits, and then the news that my beloved has Alzheimer's - it's all added up to just plain awful in so many ways. That ticket just kind of summed it all up.

Then, out of the blue, GRACE. "It's been reduced to a warning" - pure, unexpected, undeserved grace. I read about it in my Bible all the time. I sing about it in church. I even preach about it on Sunday mornings. Yet receiving it in a small town City Hall, well, I'm not ashamed to say that it reduced me to tears.

But I'm still not gonna speed through Reynolds. And, yes, I got that new sticker!