The jarring ring of the house phone startled Sweet T and I as we sat in our respective spots in our modest living room. We were recouping from a glorious night ministering at Union Gospel Mission, discussing our individual plans for the day ahead.
“That can’t be good,” Sweet T said.
We get flabbergasted by the house phone ringing. Our cats run and hide at the harsh jingle interrupting the serenity of their world. The antiquated device continued to ring as the automated voice of our caller ID informed us that it was a “private caller.”
“Who on Earth calls people at 7 a.m. on a Saturday,” I blurted out. “Telemarketers?”
The unknown caller didn’t leave a message.
As Sweet T and I began getting ready to go to work an authoritative knock thundered on our front door. 7:15 a.m. What the hell? Something about the sound of the knock on the door sounded familiar. I rushed to the bedroom to grab a pair of pants as Terri asked about the persistent knock on the door. My mind raced. Were the unknown caller and the door knocker related? Maybe the call was a ruse by a potential burglar intending to see if we were home? I’d seen stories on the evening news about hoodlums kicking in doors and breaking into homes.
The knocking continued. More forcefully this time.
T decided to see who was banging on the door.
I said, “Wait! You don’t know who it is. What if it’s someone trying to break in?”
Sweet T peeked out the sunroom window. “It’s the police.”
“The police?” Things were getting stranger by the second.
I opened the front door and greeted the uniformed officer standing there.
He pronounced my name correctly as he reached for a white piece of paper from his shirt pocket. I couldn’t help but wonder if he was about to serve me a subpoena or if a judge had issued a warrant for my arrest. What would they be arresting me for? My mind raced at lightning speed, the events of my past life flashing by me. Perhaps one of the bodies popped up? Just kidding. It’s hard being me. It can be even more challenging living inside my mind.
The pleasant and polite, yet serious, police officer asked if I owned a pickup and proceeded to describe my truck, which was parked on the street directly behind him. I considered my response, not wanting to sound snarky or smart-alecky–something I can do without much effort. Apparently, somebody stole a pickup truck matching the description of mine and abandoned it in a motel parking lot. Upon discovering the abandoned truck, doors ajar, and with a front tire missing, the motel attendant contacted the police department. When they ran the plates, they came up with my name as the owner of the vehicle. Yet, my truck was plainly sitting exactly where I’d left it. The officer and I walked to the front of my pickup to discover my license plate missing. Whoever had stolen the abandoned truck had snagged my front plate and put it on the stolen vehicle.
And this describes our February. It has been a short-lived month filled with unique moments. It’s been challenging blogging, as I continue to adjust to my work schedule and intertwine it with the different ministry activities we have going on. Time has rapidly slipped away as Sweet T and I have juggled commitments, battled the bug that’s going around getting everyone sick, and treaded water keeping up with our household chores. In some ways, the shortest month has been the longest. Yet, here we are, rounding the bases, as we near the end of the second month of 2019. Whew! I’m exhausted.
Here are 9 posts that The Devotional Guy™ readers have been enjoying the past few weeks (check ’em out when you get a sec!):
All in all, 2019 is off to a great start. I’m thankful for you, reader.
The Devotional Guy™