I don’t know how he knew since I haven’t told a soul about it, other than Tim and Pam, but my buddy, er former buddy, Mike out of New Jersey sent me the following YouTube link this morning. He said he only knew of one driver like those represented in the following video.
I doubt Mike is aware but I have my day in court in the morning. A couple of months ago while driving to work, I decided to turn off the cell phone, turn off the radio and to devote the morning drive time to prayer. I’m not being pious here, I’m simply telling you like it was. My prayer life could use the attention and so many of my friends and family members were in a hard way. So I naturally thought the 45-minutes would be best put to use praying.
Now I’m not talking that Paula White form of prayer. I wasn’t hooping and hollering and calling for a rain of fire on anybody’s head. It was more of the simple, quiet, utterances.
The prayer wasn’t even all that profound. More of a discussion really, like hey, God, have you seen Connie lately? Did you hear about what happened with Ed’s job? What do you suppose will come of all that?
Then I moved on to Pam and Gordon. Now, I’ll admit that I was kind of “lost in prayer” the way a person might be if they were talking on a cell phone or rocking out to the Doobie Brothers.
I wasn’t mindlessly driving or anything like that. I was on my side. I was paying attention to traffic but I couldn’t help it, praying for people who are dealing with life and death issues takes a fair amount of concentration. Concentration, I should have been devoting to the speedometer, apparently.
I was praying specifically for God to give Pam and Gordon physical and emotional strength when a cop on the other side of the road whipped his vehicle into the lane behind me. I looked down and saw I was doing 55. Which I didn’t think was a problem, but it was.
The speed limit was 45.
I was on the edge by half of mile of the 55 zone.
Needless to say, I kept praying. Only this time I was praying he wasn’t going to give me a ticket.
Shows you how effective my prayers are. If it’s healing you need, you better call one of your righteous friends. Somebody God likes better than me. Call Connie. Call Pam. I think God listens more to them.
The ticket is in my purse. I’m headed into court in the morning. I could have just paid the $150 fine but the thing is I want to go on the record with the story of who it is I was praying for because there is no one in this green earth who would find it more hilarious that I got a ticket because I was praying for them than Gordon Wofford.
Nobody gave me more grief about my driving. The very last time I got a ticket in North Carolina, Gordon was the first person I called.
I was on my way to Savannah out of Fayetteville and got within 100 miles of Richmond when I realized I was headed north, not south. That sorry photographer that was traveling with me turned out to be useless in all sorts of ways. She’d been asleep and hadn’t bothered to look at a map. Gordon had her pegged from the get-go. He never did like her.
The cop pulled me over for speeding that day, too, and rightly so. I was just thankful he’d clocked me at 80 and not the 90 I had been doing. (Children don’t try this at home or on the road.)
Gordon gave me a lesson in compass, north, sun on the left, south, sun on the right. All the while laughing so hard that I’d gotten the ticket. I’d like to point out that the sorry photographer didn’t bother to split the fine with me either. Generosity was never her strong suit. She even kept the negatives from that trip, even though the film had been bought and paid for by a Vietnam veteran and so had the rental car and all the gas — except for my half. Clearly those negatives belong to the veteran who funded the trip, don’t you think?
Okay. I have to end this now. I am entering that zone again where I just rattle on mindlessly without thinking about the road I’m traveling down.
The reason I didn’t just pay the fine this time is I want the record to show that the reason I got the ticket in the first place was because of my love and concern and prayers for the man who considered himself president of my fan club, the man I once accused of being my stalker, my best buddy from the holler, “Flash” Gordon.