Serial Saturday: "Protective Custody", Pt. 4

By the following morning, Alex awoke to the realization that today was the fourth day since the ghosts of the Brendons had entered his life, but already he was becoming accustomed to the new habits they introduced. He didn’t meander through his morning routine anymore, careless of the odd minute wasted here and there. He was struck by the new goal emerging to make it into the police station before Ted and Marlo appeared—why, if it was so easy for him to do it now, had he never done it before?

Even Marnie was beginning to resign herself to this new-and-improved Alex Davis.
“Is there something you’re not telling me?” she demanded brusquely.
For a moment, Alex feared she might suspect something about the ghosts—but how could she know? “No,” he told her—at least, he was about to, but Officer Tony Barelli—a loud-mouthed, ambitious senior officer who often took 18-hour shifts with the hopes of impressing his superiors, and performed all his duties with finesse that made all his fellow officers jealous—heard Marnie’s comment and called out, “I know what’s going on!”
Conversation in the vicinity quickly hushed, even as people continued going through the motions of whatever they had been doing. Alex felt on edge; what did Barelli suspect? Surely he would have heard about the events of that night. What spontaneous, bravado-laden story was Barelli going to spread about Alex now?
Barelli, for his part, had everyone’s attention and knew it, but continued as if he, Marnie, and Alex were the only ones in the conversation. He clapped Alex on the shoulder, “See, Marnie? Alex is a game-player; he always has been. He thinks three steps ahead of the competition.”
This was not true, and everyone knew it, especially Alex; but Barelli was selling, and when Barelli sold, truth was a guideline, not a foundation.
“Now, I don’t know how he knows it, but Alex must have heard that he’s got a professional review coming up soon, where he’ll be considered for a promotion.”
Alex was surprised; he had no idea about the review, so how could Barelli possibly know? It felt good to know that he might be promoted, though. He couldn’t wait to be handed more responsibilities, like following the detectives on criminal investigations and the like, instead of just being a regular beat-cop.
“So,” Marnie wondered, “the fact that for three mornings in a row now, Alex shows up on time--is all in preparation for becoming a senior officer?”
Alex opened his mouth to join the conversation, since they were talking about him as if he wasn’t there, but Barelli got in before he could say anything.
“Not Senior officer, Marns,” Barelli shook his head, “that’s too short for a guy like Alex.” Barelli turned his keen blue-eyed stare on Alex and murmured conspiratorially, “Word on the beat is he’s got a straight shot at Lieutenant.”
Alex shook his head; from junior officer to lieutenant? That was Barelli’s theory? Well, maybe Barelli himself would attempt a feat like that, but certainly not Alex! The gossip intrigued him, though; was that really what people thought?
“What makes you so sure I’d get something like that?” Alex asked the officer.
Barelli winked at him, “Take a look at your case-load, Casanova; there’s no way the socialites that know your name will let the mayor promote you to anything less!”
Alex flushed as the cops in the area snickered. Marnie shook her head.
“Davis, you’re patrolling downtown today,” she told him, handing him his schedule. “I know it’s not quite your style, but—“
“It’s fine,” Alex said quickly, eager for anything that would take him away from the station full of smirking juniors and frowning seniors. He grabbed the stack of files and headed to the garage.

Working quickly and efficiently, Alex hopped into his fully-prepped patrol car and switched on the scanner as he pulled out of the station.
“Where to, guys?” he asked the Brendons.
Ted eyed him warily, “What do you mean? Aren’t you going to just keep picking the calls?”
Alex hesitated; he could claim this as an opportunity to get back at them, an excuse to continue to ignore them. There would be nothing Ted and Marlo could do if he just chose to act the way he had always been acting.
Then again, he felt compelled to acknowledge the dramatic improvement of yesterday afternoon, when he was so jaded by his own foolish choices that he allowed Ted and Marlo to take over. The number of cases had exceeded his usual average, but at the same time he had finished them with more energy than usual. After that afternoon, Alex realized that he almost didn’t want to return to his old, lazy, flirting self.
“Nope,” he told Ted with firm resolution, “I think I’ll let you guys tell me the best ones to pick.” He grinned ruefully, “I guess I’m not fully recovered from yesterday morning, you could say.”
“Not to mention the fact that your habit of taking the high-profile cases has attracted teasing from your fellow cops!” Marlo remarked.
Alex chuckled, even as his cheeks burned. “Yeah, I, uh, think I want to keep things on the down-low for now. I’d be okay with quieter stuff, I think.”
“Why not take a rural patrol loop?” Marlo suggested.
Alex fought back a cringe, “Really? I mean—“
“Unless you think you know what’s best,” Ted interposed.
Alex caught himself, “No, no, that’s fine!” he responded, shuffling through the files Marnie had given him to find a quiet loop that needed patrolling. He found one that circumnavigated several residential areas, and headed in that direction.

For a “quiet” route, Alex was surprised to discover just how busy those back roads were. There weren’t any flashing neon signs or crowds bustling in and out of doors like he saw so frequently downtown, but he did come across a few motorists in need. One was a family whose car had run out of gas; Alex willingly let the dad have the reserve can of gas he always carried in his trunk as a cop. They thanked him profusely, with far more genuine gratitude than he had gotten from any lady recently.
Further on, he came across a senior couple sitting in their car with the windows rolled down, talking as if this was not something unusual. Alex stopped by and asked how they were. As it turned out, the car had blown a tire, but neither one of them had the capacity to be able to change the tire, even though the car was equipped with all the necessary tools, plus a spare tire. Hence, they had no choice but to sit and wait for some motorist to stop and help them, and they did so willingly.
While Alex changed the tire, the woman informed him, “We’ve been sitting out there for three hours now, and we’ve seen many cars whiz by us, but none of them stopped until you came along!”
Alex couldn’t believe it; three hours, and no one had thought to even ask if the couple needed any help? How many times had he been one of them—and he was a cop!
“I’m just doing my duty, ma’am,” he replied, heartened by the fact that this was true; he was doing his duty, and not just looking for a more efficient way to pick up dates.

After sending the couple on their way, Alex finished the loop and began heading back toward the downtown area, when Marlo cried out, “What’s down there?”
Alex quickly applied the brake and peered down the side street where she pointed. It was a turnoff into another neighborhood. Alex could see nothing out of the completely ordinary.
“I don’t see anything,” he told Marlo.
“Well,” Ted suggested, “why don’t you check it out? You can loop back to this road, I made sure.”
Alex considered that perhaps there was something he was meant to do here, and the Brendons knew what it was, since they had been through this neighborhood ahead of him and probably seen something.
“I guess it couldn’t hurt,” he said, pulling into the neighborhood. He drove down the street, glancing at everyone he passed. A father walked several yards behind his toddler daughter pedaling her pink tricycle with glittery tassels on the handlebars. A young woman in a tracksuit jogged by him, followed closely by her golden lab. Alex glanced at one yard in amusement as he saw a housewife in a big, floppy hat directing her three teenage sons in cleaning the front yard.
“Suckers,” he muttered.
“What was that?” Marlo queried quickly.
“Nothing!” Alex called back just as quick, resolving to avoid talking to himself while on-duty.

Alex made the second turn and was headed to rejoin the road he had been on when the flutter of a yellow scarf caught his eye. The scarf was on the head of a young woman in a familiar (merely because he had seen it so recently before) forest-green skirt. Alex smirked to himself, noting the way he considered this girl in terms of “young lady” instead of “chick” or “hottie.” She was neither of those things!
She was walking on the sidewalk toward the main road in the same direction as Alex was driving. He grinned to himself, wondering how freaked-out she might be if he honked as he passed her. Was she the type to jump in fright, or would she just look at him funny? In the end, as Alex drove past her, he decided not to honk. He merely kept going.
“Wait!” Marlo cried.
Alex looked back at her without stopping, “What?”
Marlo was staring out the window with an urgent expression on her face. “Slow down!”
Alex glanced in his rearview mirror and saw the girl approaching, still with her head down as if she hadn’t noticed the unusual sight of a police car in her neighborhood.
“Why should I—“
“Look out!”
This time, it was Ted, and Alex reacted immediately, slamming on the brakes—just in time to see a bright-red rubber ball bounce against his front bumper and into the street, and a young boy run after it.
“Holy heart attack!” Alex sighed warmly. He rolled down the window to yell at the kid, but the boy had his ball and was gone.
“Ah, forget it,” Alex muttered.
“Oh!”
Alex looked up to see the young woman standing right there on the sidewalk; she’d seen him.
“It’s you,” she gasped.
“Yeah,” Alex felt his ears burn, “Hi.” Alex was used to being at ease with the ladies, Mister Smooth—what about this girl made him so uncomfortable? She just stood there, smiling.
“Talk to her!” Marlo piped up brightly.
Alex fought the urge to glare at the ghost-woman; he had no interest in this girl, and he could not fathom how or why this girl would ever take an interest in him.
“Um,” he stammered, “How are you?”
“I’m good,” she answered, still grinning. She gestured to the vicinity. “No thugs here!”
“Oh yeah,” Alex mumbled, “that; well—“
“What’s her name?” Marlo again.
“W-what’s your, uh, your name?”
The girl brushed her hair behind her ear, blushing furiously. Small wonder, having such an awkward conversation with a cop!
“Daphne,” she answered.
“Oh, okay,” Alex could visualize the end of the conversation, and this made it easier. “Well, have a good day, Daphne!”
“And don’t go walking after dark!” Ted added, even though she couldn’t hear him.
Alex laughed as he rolled up the window and pulled away.
“I don’t know what you guys are up to,” he told the couple grinning at him from the back seat, “but that was just awkward!”
Marlo chuckled, “Oh, but you handled it so well!”
“Okay, just don’t make me do that again!”
Ted and Marlo shared a glance, but Alex was not paying attention to them anymore.
“Dispatch, this is 145,” he told the dispatcher, “I’m headed for the I-60 speed trap right now.”
“Patrol 145,” the dispatcher responded, “you are just in time. Go for it; out.”

Alex merged onto I-60 and after a short distance, pulled over to the side of the road. He chuckled to his passengers.
“Did seeing a patrol car ever make you check your speedometer?” he asked.
“Nope,” Ted responded right away, “I always made sure I was matching speed with the flow of traffic.”
Marlo looked uncomfortable and examined her nails (which could not be anything other than perfect, since she was dead.) She twisted her wedding ring on her finger, “Well, I, um—“
“I was just asking,” Alex saved her from having to respond, “because I think it’s funny how even though I haven’t even gotten my radar gun out, already traffic is a lot slower than it was!” He laughed, grabbed the large scanner, and stood outside his car. He caught a few cars that would speed until they came within sight of him, at which point they would immediately slow down to a more reasonable speed. One of these was a powder-blue Mazda Miata. Alex dove into his car when he saw it coming. He fired up the engine when it passed, smiling widely as he flicked on his lights to let the driver know she was being pulled over.
“The car wasn’t going that fast, was it?” Marlo asked as Alex slowly emerged from his car and loped easily to the driver’s window. A slender brunette turned her chunky Prada sunglasses on him.
“Are you serious?” she whined.
“Do you know why I pulled you over, ma’am?” Alex leaned casually on the roof of the compact car.
The girl took off her sunglasses and began inspecting her manicure. “Let’s just get this over with, okay? Just tell me what I did wrong, give me the ticket, and—“
“It’s Addie, isn’t it?” Alex asked her.
Finally, she looked at him, peering closely. Her eyes widened. “Ohmigosh!” she cried in excitement, “It’s you!” This was the second time he’d heard that today, but somehow it sounded better when Addie said it. “Adam, isn’t it?” she winked at him.
Alex flushed, “Actually, it’s Alex.”
“Oh…” Addie squinted at him against the glare of the sun through her windshield. “Was I speeding?”
Alex shrugged sheepishly, “No, I, uh, actually just wanted to ask you out on a date.”
“Oh, that’s so cute!” Addie gushed. “Of course I’ll go out with you! What time?”
“Umm, how about eight—“
“Think very carefully, Alex,” Ted appeared, warning him. “Eight is when you’re supposed to be clocking out; how can you be picking her up from her apartment before or at the same time you clock out?”
“—thirty,” Alex finished.
To Addie’s ears, it was as if he had not hesitated when he said “eight-thirty.” “Great,” she chirped, “I’ll see you then!” She started her car up again, but glanced at him slyly, “Can I go now?”
“I’ll let you off with a warning this time,” Alex joked, “I’ll be at your door by eight-thirty, Addie!”
“Bye!” She merged back onto the freeway and sped away.

Five hours later, at 8:05 PM, Alex wearily dragged himself to the scanner to clock out.
He should have known the Brendons would want to retaliate for the way he went behind their backs to pursue a relationship with Adelaide. They had run him almost ragged with calls all the rest of the afternoon; they almost forced him to accept nearly every call the dispatcher took. She was shocked, but when she saw that Alex would not refuse, she continued to give him assignments in addition to the files Marnie had given him that morning. Ted and Marlo didn’t even seem to mind when Alex was repeatedly called to break up brawls, chase down shooters, and pick up perpetrators.
At last, his shift ended, the Brendons wished him a good night and good luck on his date, and disappeared. Alex vaguely wondered where they went at night. At any rate, he knew where he was going! He changed into a fresh shirt and sport coat and caught a cab over to Adelaide’s address in Pentomino Heights. At precisely 8:30, Alex knocked on Adelaide’s door.
A butler opened it.
“I’m here to pick up Addie Donahue,” Alex told him.
The butler glanced over him dubiously.
“Miss Adelaide,” he responded with icy condescension, “is expecting you; follow me, please.”
The butler led Alex into the front sitting room of Addie’s house.
“Wait here,” he said, and left the room.
Alex glanced around as he sat on the plush, suede leather sofa: silk throw pillows, glass and china sculptures and knickknacks, famous paintings in gold-plated frames—everything reeked of riches. However did he get so lucky?
After about ten minutes, Alex began to wonder if he was indeed so lucky. Why would Adelaide keep him waiting for so long? The house was strangely silent as the old-fashioned mahogany grandfather clock ticked away the seconds.
Finally, he heard the familiar clomping of tall, chunky heels on the stairwell. Addie appeared, wearing her customary signature clothing: this time a slouchy, brightly-colored chiffon shirtdress and black, heeled gladiator sandals.
“Arthur!” she gushed when Alex came to stand at the foot of the stairs. “I’m so excited! Where are we going?”
“It’s Alex,” he reminded her for the second time that day, “Come on, let’s go.”
He held the door for Adelaide, and followed her down the front steps to the sidewalk. Adelaide stopped and glanced up and down the darkened street.
“Where’s your car?” she asked, puzzled.
Alex shrugged, a bit embarrassed, though he had never been before. “I, uh, don’t have a car, since I spend most of the day in my patrol car. I take a cab.”
Addie’s mouth smiled, but Alex keenly detected the disgust in her eyes. “Oh,” she murmured. “Well, then,” she grabbed his arm and led him toward the parking garage at the end of the block, “why don’t we drive one of mine?” She stopped by the booth at the gate and said, “Hey, Mack, we’d like the keys to the Lexus, if you don’t mind.”
“Takin’ another one out, Miss Addie?” Mack joked, grabbing the keys off the hook. “Careful with this one, now; not like last time!”
Addie laughed carelessly and tucked the keys to a luxury Lexus into Alex’s hand.
Alex, meanwhile, began to feel slightly uncomfortable as he wondered what Mack meant by “another one”: was it another car…or another boyfriend?
“Whatsa matter?” she asked, and Alex realized that he was frowning as he thought.
“Um, Addie,” Alex stammered, “What happened last time?”
Addie rolled her eyes as she waited by the passenger side for Alex to open the door and help her in, “Nothing really happened! Mack was just being silly…you know how those guys are.”
Alex did know—that when a crime happened in the vicinity of a parking garage, the man at the gate usually knew the most out of any other third-party witnesses. Suddenly he was very nervous about being out with Addie—particularly at the wheel of a car that probably cost more than his life was worth. Car or boyfriend, Alex didn’t want anything terrible to happen to either one. However, there wasn’t much he could do about that; his only option was to focus on enjoying this opportunity—however long it lasted.
He headed to the eastern side of the city, down Boylan Avenue, intending to take Addie to the nicest dessert place he knew of, but as soon as he did, Alex saw her wrinkle her nose.
“What’s wrong?” he asked her.
“Why are we going down here?” she demanded.
“Don’t worry,” Alex sought to reassure her, “I know a nice place down the block here.”
“Oh Alvin, honey,” Addie cajoled him, “you can’t possibly be trying to say that there’s anything nice on this side of town!” She stuck out her lip in a pout. Her neon bangles clacked together as she laid her manicured hand on Alex’s leg. She rubbed his knee tenderly. “Here,” she whispered in his ear, “Let me take you somewhere fun!” She scanned the block ahead. “Take a right at the next light.”

Alex ended up following Addie’s directions to Chez Paris Riche Lounge. Alex had a moment to gawk as Addie touched up her makeup. He rarely had the opportunity to come out to this block, even for work. Every business establishment had valets and security staff standing on the curb.
“There!” Addie’s hand appeared in front of Alex’s face, and he reflexively veered the car to the curb where she pointed. The valet approached the car, and Alex rolled down the window.
“Hey Todd!” Addie waved at him.
Todd smiled, “Howdy, Miss Adelaide; welcome back!”
Todd opened the door on her side as Alex got out of the driver’s seat.
“Have a good night, Miss!” Todd waved as Addie latched onto Alex and the two of them walked into the lounge.

The barrage of recognition did not stop there. The minute Addie entered the lounge with Alex on her arm, she became Miss Adelaide and guest, the hostess immediately led her to her favorite table, the bartender came around to their table and Adelaide smoothly dismissed him almost immediately by telling him, “We’ll just have the usual.”
Patrons pointed and whispered, but Alex knew they weren’t even paying attention to him. For that matter, neither was Adelaide. She talked on and on—more of a giggling prattle—about so many things, inserting a question every so often, but largely just focusing on reapplying her makeup (as if it could have worn off in the short walk between the curb and their table) and checking to make sure any paparazzi shots would still present her in the best light.
The waiter brought them both drinks, and Alex assertively asked for the dessert menu. He couldn’t help noticing that the waiter glanced at Adelaide before complying; did she treat all her dates this way?
Whatever the initial hesitation, it had evidently disappeared when the waiter returned with the warm apple crisp Alex ordered. He vaguely noticed that there was also another drink on the tray for Adelaide, but he ignored it and instead offered to share the crisp with her. She consented and they traded bites for a while, until the warmth of the food and the fatigue from the day, coupled with the soft cushions around him—Alex jerked back to semi-wakefulness with the realization that he’d almost dozed off. He glanced at Adelaide, who was still babbling away as if he was hanging on her every word. There was only one glass on the table, and she was busily polishing off another, but Alex knew when somebody was drunk, and Addie was no exception. The waiter had probably removed all the other glasses; there was no way to tell just how drunk the young heiress was.
She was just trying to signal the waiter for a refill when Alex sufficiently recovered his presence of mind to cut her off.
“Juss one m’drink!” she slurred, “Is good stuff!”
Alex shook his head and put his arms around her, “No, I think you’ve had enough.”
“Don’t matter! I c’n do wha’ I want!” she protested, even as Alex guided her chair away from the table. She stood and instantly stumbled. He caught her and began leading her toward the door. Instantly, Todd was at their side with the Lexus.
“Hey man,” Alex told him, “do you know the parking structure on Adelaide’s block?”
Todd eyed him warily, “Yeah; what about it?”
Alex dug some cash out of his wallet, “Drive the car back there and leave it with Mack, would you? I think Miss Adelaide needs to walk some off.”
Todd shook his head; the previous guys never acted like this, but money was money. He pocketed the bills. “Whatever you say.”
“So warm out tonight!” Addie gurgled rapturously. She leaned on Alex heavily as he guided her over to her neighborhood. “Fun date! You’re a mushroom, Albert!”
“Mushroom?” Alex echoed.
“Fungi! Fun guy, get it?” Addie hooted. Then she moaned, “Ooh, stop—the ride! I wanna get off!” She reeled and wobbled around in front of Alex.
It took about an hour, but at last Alex returned Addie to her butler, who latched on to her quite capably, as if he was used to her coming home like this.

Alex wearily dragged himself back to the apartment. It was well after ten o’clock by the time he laid down in bed. He knew he wasn’t usually this tired by the end of the day. He would have probably not fallen asleep on his date of all places if Ted and Marlo hadn’t—
Alex popped awake again; there was some unfinished business he was curious to know about before he fell asleep. Alex rolled out of bed, grabbed his laptop, and returned to the covers, propping it open on his lap. Opening the Google page, he entered Ted and Marlo Brendon. He was amused but not surprised to find several social networking posts concerning their unfortunate demise, from various neighbors who described them as “the nicest couple on the block,” from various local charities and ministries who claimed that “their presence would be missed.”
“Yeah,” Alex muttered to himself, “try being haunted by them for twelve hours a day!” But he read on.
“Ted and Marlo were the best things that ever happened to this town!” someone wrote, “I would not be the sort of person I am today if it weren’t for them!”
Reading through the anecdotes and memories shared by many others, it became clear to Alex that the Brendons weren’t just a couple of people; they had an astounding network of friends from various walks of life. The computer screen seemed to dim and the text faded, and before he knew it, Alex was fast asleep.
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Next >>>>>>

The Power of Getting What We See

WYSIWYG; pronounced "wizzy-wig," the acronym stands for "What You See Is What You Get." To relate, it is the tech-world equivalent of the "As-Is" section of a superstore. There are no hidden programs or further assembly required. There is nothing else that comes with the package. What the product or service appears at first glance, from the buyer's perspective, is the total extent of the product or service.

Recently I heard a similar phrase, spoken in regards to the Christian's perspective on life. "You see what you're looking for." Most of us who are familiar with Pollyanna will remember the quote on the locket she wore, which she quoted often. The one from Abraham Lincoln: "If you look for the bad, you will surely find it."
Both these phrases mean the same thing. One is just phrased in a more positive manner. We see what we're looking for in life; and what we see is what we get.

So what are you looking for?

Are you looking for blessing? Are you looking for guidance? Are you looking for God's power in the world?

Or are you looking at the failures of today's culture? Are you looking at the digression of morality in today's society? Do you hunt for apostasy in the church?

We see what we're looking for, and what we see is what we get.

The thing about God's blessing is that, according to Ephesians 1, God has already blessed those who are in Christ. There's nothing that happens in between that; no intervening time between committing to Christ and then attaining God's blessing. "Praise be to the God and Father of Our Lord Jesus Christ, who has blessed us with every spiritual blessing in Christ..." There is not so much as a punctuation mark between being "in Christ" and receiving God's blessing! Paul goes on from there to list seven major blessings God has given us, (in one drawn-out sentence), which basically cover every aspect of our lives.
Do we want Him to clean us, forgive us, make us holy and blameless in His sight? Do we want the power and the desire to do His will? Once we are in Christ, God says "Done and done!"
Do we sometimes give in to the feeling of helplessness, when we look at the turning of the world and all we see is despair and destruction? Once we are in Christ, God blesses us by giving us His pleasure, showing us His will, and assuring us of His inimitable sovereignty.
Do we battle feelings of being the "only fish swimming against the current"? The lonely outsider with nowhere to belong? In Christ, God chose us since before the beginning of time, and when we accept His gift of adoption, He welcomes us with open arms!
Do we feel like we're in a war against ourselves, against wrong desires and bad choices? In Christ, God gives us redemption from slavery to sin. In Christ, our identity, our fundamental desire is to do that which is pleasing to God. He changes the things we want to do, to help us be able to glorify Him!
Do we struggle with overwhelming regret? Are there things in the past that come back to haunt us? In Christ, God freely bestows the blessing of forgiveness; He has cleansed us, and when God cleanses, it stays clean!
Ever wonder how far God expects you to go on your own? Ever worry when a decision comes up, whether you'll end up screwing it up and picking the wrong one, and your bad choice then obligates the Almighty of The Universe to come behind you like a maid and clean up the mess you made, shaking His head and wondering how you could have missed the signs He provided? Ephesians 1:8 says He "LAVISHES grace upon us" in Christ. No word is too superfluous to Paul when it comes to recounting the blessings of God.

God doesn't just give us the blessings, in equal measure spooning them out over Christians. He hands us the open bag and says, "Have at it!"

So what have you been looking for all this time? Have you been looking for His blessings? I know I haven't; it's so easy to get mad at my sibling for being jerks, to bemoan my upbringing when I compare it to that of my friends and find that they got more privileges than I did, it's easy to think that there are things in life that I can't do, so I succumb to "paralysis of analysis" because I fear I am not qualified to do things right, to do well enough to be worth the salary.

God looks at the newborn Christian and the seasoned saint together, and He says, "You'll do; here's my Son, I give you Myself, and while we're at it, let Me give you EVERY SPIRITUAL BLESSING."

You see what you're looking for; are you looking for God's blessings? Can you see them in your life? How about the lives of others? Other Christians, other believers--even other churches? There may be many "hamlets", but it's all God's Kingdom, and every single one of God's Kingdom receives these same blessings when they receive Christ. Can you see God's blessing, even in these ones? When a sibling gets on my nerves, when people are being irrational and selfish--can I still look for God's blessing in their lives?

Just imagine what life would be like, what it would look like if we went through it looking for as many of God's blessings as we could possibly find. It's not a word-search or a puzzle. It's "Where's Waldo" when Waldo is the only person in the picture. God has already blessed you and me; we are already lavished with His blessings and His grace. This is the Power of Getting What We See: Once we start looking for the blessings God has given us in Christ, we then see them everywhere, and we are then free to live in these blessings.

Are you looking? What do you see?

Serial Saturday: "Protective Custody," Pt. 3

Alex awoke the next morning just in time to hear his alarm. 7:30; he had half an hour of privacy before the Brendons appeared. He showered quickly and dressed immediately before proceeding with the rest of his morning regimen. Meanwhile, he wondered what sort of people they had been in life, what sort of work they had been involved in. Were they the sort of people who kept to themselves, or was some social outreach program missing its two most important figureheads?

All this consideration disappeared, however, when Ted and Marlo showed up as Alex was on his way to work, determined to be late as usual. Then Alex remembered the fight from the previous night, and the way they had treated him. He refused to acknowledge them as he stalked into the station (he noted, however, that when he swiped his keycard, it happened to be right at 8:00:00 again), and moreover, decided that today he would be more his old self again.

Out on beat, he repeatedly took the duties involving the hot babes. He answered a call from a bartender downtown who had cut a female patron off, but too late, and now she was staggering and weaving her way down the sidewalk. Alex administered a few of the tests, but the woman—beautiful as she was—reeked of alcohol and could not successfully complete any of them. He guided her into the back of his police car (taking private satisfaction that he was placing her next to Ted and Marlo), and prepared to bring her back to the station. As he merged onto the freeway, he glanced to his right and saw the two ghosts sitting in the passenger seat, disgust and horror etched on their faces.

Alex raised an eyebrow questioningly at them, and Ted replied, “She vomited back there.”

Alex rolled his eyes; now he would have a mess to clean up before he could leave again.

Later, Alex was waiting at an intersection when a bright-red Mustang skated right through the intersection on a red light. Alex would have let someone else, like the patrol car down the way, take care of it, but he’d glimpsed the wavy red hair in the front seat, and didn’t see any reason not to take this one, just this once.

Calmly allowing the car to get just a little ways down the road, Alex took the turn, fell in behind the car, and turned on his lights, briefly flickering the siren so she would know she was being pulled over. Alex had to grin at her spunk as the Mustang revved only briefly before slowly crawling to the shoulder of the highway. He pulled to a stop a respectful distance behind her, checked his hair, and slowly emerged from his car, sauntering over to her window like he was boss.

She had not even lowered the tinted window. Alex rapped on it, “Ma’am?” he called.

Very slowly—as slowly as she could manage—the redhead brought the window down. She nailed Alex with an icy glare, but Alex was confident enough in his abilities to not let her antagonism faze him.

“Do you know why I pulled you over, ma’am?” he asked politely, with a disarming smile.

She smiled back, but it wasn’t disarmed, “Because you’re a masochistic—“ she spat an angry epithet.

Alex may have been the sort of guy to try flirting with every girl he met, but he knew a lost cause when he saw one. At once, he reverted to being all business. “License and registration, please,” he instructed.

The redhead rolled her eyes, “Look, how much will this cost?”

Alex stared at her, perplexed, “Excuse me?”

The girl sniffed, “Just tell me how much the ticket would cost, and I’ll pay it right here. I’m late for an appointment in the city, and I just want to go!” The daggers had softened into doe-eyes as she turned to him with a pitiful pout.

Alex shook his head, “I’m sorry ma’am; I only write the tickets, I don’t deal with the payments—“

“I’ll give you double if you let me off with a warning,” she offered.

Alex was almost scared at the way she was not complying with his request, and the way she seemed not to care about committing a federal offense in order to get her way. “Ma’am, I can’t accept that,” he insisted, “and if you will not provide your license and registration for me to write the ticket, I’ll have no choice but to arrest you.”

“All right, fine!” The redhead’s manner returned to the angry fire, and she quickly pulled out her driver’s license and slipped the registration information out of her car. “Just hurry it up, will you?”

“Now that I can do,” Alex said, accepting the card and the document and returning to his car.

Settling into the driver’s seat, he looked at the name.

Ted heard him gasp in surprise. “Don’t tell me you know this one, too?” he asked.

Alex shook his head as he filled out the ticket, “Nearly everyone in America knows ‘this one,’” he informed the ghost, “I just wonder how many tickets she’s weaseled her way out of; she seemed to have her methods well-practiced.”

“Speaking of ‘weaseling out’,” Marlo piped up, “You’ve missed two calls on larceny, one pursuit, and at least three motorist-in-distress calls while you’ve been dealing with this one woman.”

Alex turned to her, “Now see? I wouldn’t have missed those calls if I had just let someone else take care of her!”

“Yeah,” Ted countered, “but you only went after her because she was cute, didn’t you?”

Alex felt his ears burned and he climbed out of the car and returned to the Mustang. The girl had her engine running again.

“Here you are, ma’am,” he said, returning her license and registration, and handing her the ticket, “Have a—“

“Yeah, yeah,” She immediately shifted into gear and pulled away before he could finish.

Alex had to chuckle to himself as he climbed back into his patrol car, “I could get her on speeding, probably, if I wanted to.”

“You’ve got a call to answer, bucko,” Marlo reminded him.

“Patrol unit found a bunch of guys in—“

“Shh!” Alex interrupted Ted, “I’m listening to the dispatcher right now.”

He turned up the dial, and drove down the highway back into town, but in reality, Alex wasn’t listening to the dispatcher. He wanted to get back to the station and fill out the forms for the ticket he’d just written. That should kill another hour or so of his shift.

As he exited the freeway, his radio clicked.

“Hey, Davis?” it was Detective Gunderson, a capable, driven man from Alex’s station.

“Davis here,” Alex replied, knowing that if Detective Gunderson was calling him, he shouldn’t mess around.

“Could you come down to 1608 Mallard Court? Do you have any passengers?”

Alex saw the look that Ted and Marlo exchanged as they remembered the last passenger Alex had taken. “Nope,” he told the detective.

“Great; I need an extra car. We just broke up a party here, and dispatch said you were the closest.”

“I’ll be right over, sir,” Alex promised. A party on Mallard Court was still close enough to the city to be on the more-upscale side.

When Alex arrived at the house, he saw that the “party” must have begun sometime late the night before. He counted two ambulances pulling away, and Detective Gunderson and another lieutenant had their patrol cars full of hungover and stoned partiers. Gunderson brought three scruffy men—two black and one white—over to Alex’s patrol car as he pulled up.

“Here, take these back to the station, will you? Let Marnie know that these two are under possession with intent,” he pointed to the black one on the end and the white man, “and this one is under arrest for possession.”

“I can do that, sir,” Alex responded. As the lieutenant herded the three perpetrators into the back seat, Ted and Marlo transferred to the passenger seat.

“All set?” Alex joked as the lieutenant closed the door.

The guys grumbled and cussed at him.

Alex weaved around the blocks, working his way toward the police station. Halfway between Mallard Court and the police station, Alex happened upon the sight of a fellow “blue-shirt” (junior officer) standing by the side of the road. He looked as if he had been walking for some distance. Alex almost continued by him, but the young man chased after the car so ardently that Alex felt compelled to stop the car and pull over.

“Thanks, buddy,” the officer cried, pulling open the door and climbing in so quickly, it was all Ted and Marlo could do to scoot over and let him in; and where else did they have to go but on either side of Alex in the driver’s seat? They sandwiched Alex between them; his elbows were pinned against his sides, and he had their faces resting on either shoulder. All three of them were exceedingly uncomfortable, but the officer continued chatting, wholly unaware of the predicament he was causing.

“My tire blasted apart on Maple Drive,” he explained, “and wouldn’t you know it, today happened to be the day that I didn’t have the jack in the car to change it! I really appreciate you picking me up like this; do you need to be somewhere after you drop the—“ he gestured with this thumb toward the back seat, “—load off at the station?”

“No,” Alex answered around Marlo’s shoulder under his chin, “I have reports to fill.”

“Okay, I’ll ride back with someone else; geez,” the officer reached past Marlo and gave Alex a nudge, “why so tense? Loosen up a little, man! You’re stiff as a board!”

Yeah, because I’m crammed between two people you can’t possibly know about! Alex thought to himself.

When they finally pulled into the station, Ted immediately opened the door to let himself out—but the door was still closed when Alex went for it. He bumped his forehead on the unexpected window. The officer laughed, and Alex glared at Ted as he emerged from the car and opened the door for the three perpetrators in the back.

After booking the three men with Marnie, Alex drifted back to his desk and grabbed the ticket report to fill it out. It was only three o’clock in the afternoon, but Alex felt like he already spent his entire twelve hours in that car.

Oh well, he thought to himself, I just won’t take very many calls this afternoon; it will give me a break. He smiled as he recalled the more pleasant beats he’d had in the past, and the Ted Brendon noticed it.

“You’re not still thinking about picking up girls, are you?” he asked, somewhat gruffly.

“And what if I am?” Alex retorted.

“What did you say?” Chris had just been walking past his desk. Alex flushed as he realized he’d responded to Ted aloud in a public place. “Nothing,” he told Chris. The junior officer shook his head.

“Look,” he continued to the ghost in a quieter tone, “I was actually just thinking about what happened this morning,” he admitted, “and I just thought you should know that I am so tired right now that I really don’t care about picking my own beat for the rest of the day. You and Marlo can have at it.”

“Really?” Ted asked skeptically, “You’re not just saying that to get us out of your hair for now, but in reality once we’re back on the road you’re going to ignore us again?”

“No,” Alex murmured with a shake of his head, “I really mean it this time.”

Ted stared Alex right in the eye, and the young man briefly wondered if ghosts could read minds, because it seemed like Ted was reading his just then. Finally, Ted answered, “All right,” and left it at that.

Five hours later, Alex clocked out feeling almost rejuvenated. Following Ted and Marlo’s direction hadn’t been as taxing as he thought it would be. It was as if they acknowledged the fact that he was too tired to fight by giving him simple, gratifying calls to answer and patrols to run. At six o’clock, Adelaide had called him, and of course he had taken that call even though he was on duty, but beyond that, the day had gone by rather smoothly. Alex logged out for the day and stepped out onto the sidewalk. Sighing, he began making his way toward his apartment.

Two blocks down from the station, he noticed a particular group of night walkers who seemed suspicious: a young woman walked alone, and following her at a distance of about ten yards were three guys. At first, Alex dismissed it as a coincidence; it was just four people walking in the same direction. After seeing the three hoods change sides of the street right behind the girl, and adding to that the fact that they never seemed to get any nearer to her, Alex began to get suspicious. He continued to watch until he saw one of the would-be thugs break away from his buddies. From his vantage point across the street, he saw the remaining two gradually speeding up their walk to catch up to the girl, while he clearly saw the third emerge in an alleyway ahead of the girl. They were going to block her in, force her into the alley.

Just before the three hoods could act, though, Alex hollered, “Hey!”

The girl finally stopped and looked around herself. One of the guys decided to try and go for her anyway, but she screamed and Alex ran across the street, “Get away from her!” he yelled.

The one in the alley recognized Alex’s uniform and told his cronies, “It’s a cop!”

By the time Alex reached the girl’s side, the guys had disappeared into the shadows of the night.

The girl smiled at Alex with gratefulness in her shining brown eyes. Alex almost didn’t think twice about her; she looked like she’d fit in with the Powerball crowd; he’d saved her from the goons because he didn’t like them, not because he cared about her.

“Are you okay?” he asked, merely because she was staring at him like she wanted him to say something.

“Yeah,” she sighed, gazing over her forest-green skirt and adjusting her brown cardigan. “Thanks,” she told him, looking up shyly.

Alex didn’t look at her twice. “No problem,” he dismissed her gratitude automatically. “Have a good night.”

Alex walked back to his apartment, satisfied with the events of the day—with the exception of the morning’s fiascos.

“Almost everything,” he muttered as he fell into bed and a dreamless sleep.

<<<>>>

Next >>>>>>

Serial Saturday: "Protective Custody", Pt. 2

 

            Sitting in his patrol car, driving around all day, Alex himself was wondering the same thing: was he slowly descending into stark-raving madness? Any sort of movement in his rearview mirror at all sent him into a flurry of jerky movements. He pulled into the station that night at 7:43, not caring who knew that he was much too early, nursing the bruises on his head and his left leg from the steering wheel and the roof of the car. He constantly reminded himself (out loud) that Ted and Marlo had promised not to bother him that day—but every time he looked in that mirror and saw something moving, he forgot and lost his head. Once, he even had a passenger in the back seat that he forgot about, so there he was, cruising down the freeway when he glanced in his rearview mirror and saw the deep black face behind him, it was all he could do to keep from coming to a dead stop there in the middle of traffic as he screamed for (from the passenger’s point of view) no apparent reason.

            Nighttime, in his bed, was no better. It seemed as though, goaded with the knowledge that Ted and Marlo could see his entire past, every little thing he did, even the secret things, his mind was intent on digging up every single occurrence of even the smallest amount of embarrassment Alex had ever experienced, broadcasting them in full view of Marlo’s big green eyes. Alex almost didn’t hear his alarm over the sound of Marlo’s inane giggling in his dreams…

            His alarm!

            Alex jerked upright before he was fully awake. His body was at an odd angle, mid-toss, so he promptly fell out of bed in a tangle of sheets. Sometime during the night, he’d ripped his t-shirt off. His body was drenched in sweat. It would be a cold shower this morning, for sure! He checked his clock: 7:52. His alarm was long since over, and there was no way he could even hope to get to work on time. Alex yanked the sheet of and tripped and stumbled his way into the bathroom.

            The shower felt good; he was more awake when he stepped out and wrapped himself in a towel. He grabbed his toothbrush and wiped the condensation from the mirror to begin brushing his teeth.

            “Mornin’, sunshine!”

            “GAAAHHH—“ Alex’s shrill scream at seeing Marlo’s face staring back at him from the mirror was cut short by his left knee connecting with the bowl of the sink at the same time he involuntarily jabbed the back of his throat with his toothbrush. He collapsed on the floor in a towel-swathed heap between the sink and the toilet.

            “It’s not like we didn’t tell you we’d show up at eight,” Ted shrugged as he casually stepped—fully clothed and completely dry—out of Alex’s shower.

            Alex flinched again, this time narrowly missing smacking his face against the toilet base.

            “Ge-get out!” he gasped, waving his arm weakly. Ted immediately disappeared. By the time Alex struggled to his feet, Marlo was gone, too. Warily, he peeked out of the bathroom door to check if they were in the bedroom. The coast seemed clear. He heard dishes clanking in the kitchen. So that’s where they were. Alex basked in the privacy of his room, noting that it was now 8:00, and since he hadn’t even left his apartment yet, he was now officially late for work. Who cared? Would anybody listen if he tried to blame it on a couple ghosts freaking the living daylights out of him?

            A far-more-composed Alex Davis met his two “ghost-parents” in the kitchen minutes later.

            “Don’t ever show up in my bathroom again!” he growled savagely as he ate the breakfast Marlo set on the table.

            Marlo scoffed, “Do you think I wanted to land in your bathroom mirror and see you like that?” she demanded. “You best be glad that—“

            “Marlo!” Ted reached across the table and silenced his wife with a gentle squeeze of her hand. He looked at Alex, “We’ll do our best, but honestly, Alex, we don’t control where we show up; you do. Our first appearance will always be near you, so if you don’t want another situation like this morning—“

            “Make sure you’re dressed and decent by eight o’clock!” Marlo finished.

            “Yeah, speaking of eight o’clock,” Alex glanced at the clock hanging next to the microwave in the kitchen, “I—“ he froze. The hands clearly pointed to 7:45. Why had the clock in his bedroom said 8:00, then?

            Marlo grinned at him and clasped her hands under her chin. “You’re what?” she prompted him significantly.

            Alex peered suspiciously at the pair. “Or maybe you two…”

            “We’re outside the realms of time and space, Alex,” Marlo reminded him with chilling calm, “With us, you’re outside the realm of time and space.”

            Alex stared at her, blinking hard, trying to make sense of the situation. “You’re making it whatever time you want it to be?”

            “Not quite,” Ted shook his head. “We’re not going to make it that arbitrary. We both agreed that at any time you needed it—such as this morning—we would make it whatever time you needed it to be. Right now, you need it to be 7:45.”

            Alex shook his head in disbelief, “Won’t that mess with the whole world, man?”

            “Right now, our priority is you, Alex Davis,” Ted replied. “Now it’s 7:50. I suggest you start walking if you want to get to work on time.”

            “I’ve never been on—“ Alex stopped protesting as the two ghosts lifted him out of his chair and compelled him to walk toward the door. They didn’t set him down until he was just outside the door of the station.

            “Let’s do it!” Marlo cheered as Alex walked inside.

           

            Marnie scanned the names as they showed up on her computer screen whenever the officers clocked in; she murmured a greeting as the names showed up.

            “Hi, Brian… Morning, Sylvia…Hi, Darren…Hi Al—“ she stopped, actually taking her eyes off the screen for once. “Alex Davis?” she gasped.

            Alex froze guiltily, keycard in hand. “H-hi, um…Marnie,” he stammered.

            She stared back at her screen. “I think this is the first time all year you’ve clocked in—“ she turned her monitor so Alex could see, “—right on time!”

            Alex looked at the time next to his key-code: 8:00:00:00. He glanced at where Ted and Marlo waited for him inside the station. They flashed him a thumbs-up.

            “Well, um,” he responded weakly, “W-would—would ya look at that!” he dashed through the doorway before Marnie could utter another syllable.

            Alex checked the schedule on the wall; he wasn’t on beat till 9:30. That gave him plenty of time to look over and fill out the modest stack of paperwork on his desk. He sat down and commenced working.

            “Davis!” Captain Prosser’s gravelly voice boomed out across the office. Alex snapped involuntarily to attention, sending his chair skidding out from under him.

            “Sir!”

            “Good to see you on time… for once!” Prosser raised his mug of coffee in salute and returned to his office.

            Alex’s knees buckled as he prepared to sink into his chair, but Marlo caught his elbow. “Whoa, easy there!” She held him up till Ted brought the chair back over for him.

            Alex grabbed the chair as soon as it was close, and sat down, collecting his wits for a moment.

            “Are you okay?” Marlo asked him.

            Alex wagged his head, “I’ve just—I’m not used to being called out for a compliment by my captain like that.”

            “How did it feel?” Ted asked with a chuckle.

            Alex didn’t answer. He only shook his head and grabbed a pen.

Not long after he began forging through the small pile (one benefit of choosing only few cases, and only the ones he would enjoy? Less paperwork, and what he had brought up pleasurable memories), Marlo sidled up next to him.

"Whatcha doing?" she asked.

Alex was self-aware enough to know that at any time, there was a good chance there was at least one pair of eyes on him at every moment. He kept his voice low as he muttered, "Filling out paperwork."

"What kind of paperwork?" Marlo shuffled through the stack of papers, but when Alex went to re-straighten it, he found them exactly how he left them.

"Reports from the week's beats," he answered.

Marlo began searching through the drawers of his desk. "What's in here—"

"Would you stop that?" Alex hissed. "Do you even have any idea what that looks like?"

Marlo winked at him, "Hello, outside space and time, here!" she returned to her nosing, "Nobody can see anything. Ooh, what's this?" she pulled out a small envelope from the back of the drawer.

Alex glanced at her in alarm, knowing that things would only become obvious if he actually interacted with her. "Would you put that away!" he begged.

Marlo frowned at him just like his mom used to do. "Young man—" she began.

"Look, I'll explain that when we're alone, out on patrol," Alex proposed. "Now will you please just let me finish my reports?"

Marlo nodded and joined Ted in wandering around the station, peeking over shoulders and peering into cabinets, and passing comments about the other cops, all within earshot of Alex.

Suddenly, Alex heard Marlo cry out, "Ted! It's our file!"

Alex glanced up as husband and wife surveyed the report from the night that ended their mortal lives.

"Who was the officer in charge?" he wondered under his breath.

"Lieutenant Morgan Haversham, it says."

Alex flinched and bit back a cry as Marlo appeared next to him with a file in her hands. Alex glanced into the file and saw that as far as the robbery goes, a few items were listed, then a reference to an insurance list. Alex wondered what was on that list.

He returned to finishing the forms, ending with the report on following Miss Adelaide.

"Who is she?" Ted appeared beside him, and Alex was suddenly aware that his expression when he thought about Adelaide gave him away.

"Um, well," Alex flushed with shame, "she's just someone who...crossed my path on a beat a few days ago."

"Do you like her?" Ted asked.

Alex shrugged, "Well, I don't know, we haven't really had the chance to talk yet."

"But you want to get to know her?"

"Well," Alex snorted, "yeah!"

Ted laughed, "Good luck with that one!" he cried.

Alex eyed him warily, "You wouldn't—I mean, you guys wouldn't, you know, mind if I stopped to talk with her, would you?"

Ted shrugged, "In the off-chance you had a small opportunity and she was there and not doing anything?"

Alex nodded, "Yeah."

"No, Marlo and I would not interrupt. Just as long as no calls come in while you're—chatting."

Alex bobbed his head, setting aside the last case file and turning away from his desk. He gave the Brendons a look that asked, "Are you ready to go?"

They nodded, and Alex stood just as Captain Prosser emerged.

"Davis!" he barked.

Alex immediately approached his captain, ready to head past the office and out to the garage. "Yes sir?"

Prosser looked toward the front of the room and beckoned a young cadet with bright-red hair and an easy smile.

"This is Jones," Prosser said, "He asked to shadow you today."

"Shadow... me?" Alex echoed, wondering how he was going to have a chance to talk with the Brendons if he had another person in the car.

Prosser glared at Alex, mistaking his tone for reluctance. "Yes; you'll take him out on your beat today. He'll ride in the front seat...unless you decide to stick him in the back." Captain Prosser said this last with such dangerous certainty that Jones flinched in horror, but Alex had been around long enough to know not to take the Captain seriously when he said things like that. He clapped Jones reassuringly on the shoulder.

"Nah, I don't think I'll need to do that! Let's go, Jones."

Jones bobbed his head and tried to smile again.

Alex felt a little proud of his capabilities as he took Jones over the procedures and "bells and whistles" of his patrol car. Jones seemed to know quite a bit already, but even with only seven years under his belt, Alex knew that mere knowledge did not separate the "men from the boys," as it were. Jones seemed to know a lot about Alex himself, as well.

"I'm really honored that you're letting me do this," the young cadet gushed as they pulled out of the station. "Captain Prosser said if I wanted to run with the big dogs I'd have to get by you first. And another cop I talked to, Officer Van Derby, said he considers you the most streetwise cop of all the juniors." Jones hesitated before remarking, "He did say you don't generally take your calls by-the-book, and that you tend to meet a lot of girls on your beat." The young boy grinned and asked slyly, "So...are we going to meet some girls today?"

Alex glowed at the praise from his superiors, and he was about to answer in the affirmative, when he saw Ted and Marlo frowning at him from the back seat, and Ted shook his head.

"We'll see," he conceded, not quite willing to give up the idea but at the same time scared of what the ghosts might do if he ticked them off. He already discovered their uncanny ability to manipulate time; who knew if they would choose to force him to live this one day over and over again, like so many movies he'd seen?

"Say, Jones," Alex decided now would be a good time to change the subject, "do you have a first name?"

Jones shook his head, “Yeah—it’s Leroy.”

“Leroy Jones?” Alex tried the name and found it cumbersome. “Really?”

Jones’ red eyebrows danced, “I know, I don’t like it much, either. Most people call me Tom.”

Alex tried that one, “Tom Jo—“ he stopped and flushed when he realized the joke.

From the back seat, Marlo giggled, “Tom Jones? Heehee! I like this kid!” she squealed.

Alex shook his head, “Well, okay, Tom; let’s see what we have on the scanner.” He turned the knob, and the dispatcher’s voice came through as monotonous as ever.

“Geez,” Tom remarked, “you have to listen to that all day? No wonder you’re always trying to find somewhere to hook up! Any chick would be more exciting than her!”

“Hey, man,” Alex spoke up defensively, “this is where I find the chicks!” The words were out of his mouth before he could stop them. He glanced back at the furious ghosts guiltily, and added, “…but hooking up is not why we’re out here,” he saw Ted nod approvingly, but at Tom’s combination of confusion and disappointment on his face, he finished, “—it’s a side benefit!”

“Ahem!” Marlo cleared her throat noisily, knowing that Alex would be the only one to hear her. She wagged a warning finger at him, and he tried to shrug at her without Tom noticing.

Tom sighed, “Okay, Mr. Cop-Man,” he teased, “where do we go first?”

Alex paused to listen to the dispatcher.

“Available units respond to a car theft at Marley Avenue…Available units respond to medical emergency at Northwood Drive…”

“Ooh!” Marlo spoke up, “there’s a good one!”

“Northwood Drive?” Alex replied aloud, “That’s—“

“—A residential area, isn’t it?” Tom finished curiously. “I thought you normally do the high-profile stuff.”

Alex saw that this was the call Ted and Marlo wanted him to take, so he didn’t have a choice. He tried to excuse himself, “Yeah, but Northwood’s only a short ways down from us, and I like to keep my beats close…”

“Whatever, dude,” Tom sighed, “I’m just riding in the car.”

Alex reached for his mic. “I’ll show you how to respond to the dispatcher,” he told Tom, clinching the “call” button and replying, “Dispatch, this is 145, I’ll take Northwood.”

“Fourteen-five?” The dispatcher sounded as incredulous as Tom had been. “Are you sure you want to? I think it’s just an accident, a young kid, and the EMTs are already on their way. I could get someone else—“

“I’ll get there before they do, Dispatch,” Alex responded, flicking on his lights and steering down the road that would take him out to Northwood Drive.

Alex arrived at the small residential house in time to console the frightened siblings of the young girl, who had tripped and broken her ankle, but none of the kids were old enough to drive, and the parents weren’t answering their cell phones. Alex gave the obligatory congratulations for proper use of 9-1-1, and stayed with them till the ambulance arrived to take the girl (and her siblings) to the hospital.

When he returned to the car, Tom was listening to the scanner again. “I think I found something for us to do at the Mountainside Golf Resort!” he crowed.

“I have a better idea,” Ted offered, “Try going down Martindale Avenue, and take a right at the donut shop.”

“What’s there?” Alex asked before he remembered that technically he was talking to two people.

Ted answered first, “Marlo’s over there now; there’s a—“

“I think it sounds like a security issue or something,” Tom answered while Ted was still speaking.

Alex huffed in annoyance; as much as he wanted to look like he was listening to Tom, he figured he would get into trouble if he didn’t at least head over to where Marlo was waiting, even though it would be no trouble for her to just “jump” back into the car.

“Umm—“

“All units please respond to a car theft on Martindale Avenue! Suspect heading east!”

Alex sighed with relief and gunned the engine. “That’s us!” he told Tom. He roared off in the direction of Martindale Avenue.

“Awesome!” Tom cried, “A chase!”

“Unit 145, is that you?” Alex heard the transmission from another patrol unit at the end of the road.

“Roger, this is Unit 145,” Alex replied.

“All right, son; stay put in case he decides to bolt in your direction. If you see him, follow but do not engage, I repeat, follow but do not engage!”

“Copy that, sir,” Alex replied, wincing.

Tom scowled, “Aww, nuts!” he grumbled. “So now what do we do?”

Alex heard the back door open and he glanced back; Marlo climbed into the car and closed the door behind her—but at the same time the door had never opened. She saw him watching her and winked.

Alex shook his head, “Now, we wait for further orders.”

Five minutes later, the call came in: “All secondary units, suspect has been apprehended; thanks for your help!”

“That’s just wrong!” Tom snapped.

“Hey!” Alex tried to calm the young cadet, “It happens from time to time; it’s okay. Let’s see what else is on the scanner.” He turned the dial and the dispatcher’s voice came through the speakers.

“…lar emergency on the shoulder of Interstate 60, repeat, there appears to be a stalled vehicle on the shoulder of Interstate 60, would the nearest patrol please respond?”

“Alex?” Ted asked, “Interstate 60’s just down the way, isn’t it?”

Alex rolled his eyes and continued listening. “All nearby units, I have possible shots fired in an alley on Courthouse Way; repeat, shots fired, who’s listening to me?”

Alex lifted the mic to respond, and Tom encouraged him, “Yeah! Armed suspect! Let’s do it!”

Alex hesitated. Courthouse Way was across town; as much as he would rather chase down the shooter, Interstate 60 was closer. Before he could speak—

“Dispatch, this is Unit 561, I’m on I-60 en route to motorist.”

“Dispatch, Patrol Car 148, I have visual on the shooter.”

“Thanks boys…Unit 145, do you copy?”

Alex winced; he’d missed both calls, so what could she want now? “This is 145, I copy!”

“I have an officer requesting backup in front of the Justice Building on Main Street. Would you mind lending a hand?”

“Wilco, Dispatch; en route now.”

“Backup?” Tom asked as they drove away, “What does that mean? What will we do?”

“Sometimes they tell you ahead of time,” Alex admitted, “but if they don’t tell the dispatcher, there’s no way to know till we get there.”

He navigated the city blocks till he arrived at the imposing grey building on Main Street. He saw three other cars parked next to the curb across the street from the front steps. It seemed that numerous black sedans with tinted windows were always in front of that courthouse. Alex pulled up behind one of the patrol cars and radioed the driver.

“Unit 618, this is Unit 145,” he identified himself and the number on the car in front of him, “Dispatch says you requested backup?”

“Weeelll, Officer Davis!” Lieutenant Bree’s familiar icy voice slithered over the radio. “I was afraid you’d turn me down again, so I told Dispatch to keep it anonymous and spare you the details. I’ll be out to tell you myself in a second.”

Alex hung up his radio and groaned. Why did it have to be the lieutenant?

Bree was at his window in ten minutes. She held a paper bag in her hand.

“Lunch?” she offered when Alex rolled down the window. Alex accepted the bag.

“What’s all the commotion?” he queried sarcastically, gesturing toward the empty street.

“Millionaire with a grievance,” Bree informed him, “Just wanted local eyes for the to-and-fro, he’s got his own set of bodyguards that went in with him.”

“How long is this going to take?” Alex asked as Tom started pulling the burgers out of the bag.

Bree shrugged, evidently enjoying the fact that Alex was committed to the thing he hated least: sitting and waiting. “It’s the Justice Department, it could take hours.” She elongated the word just to watch him squirm. Her icy blue eyes darted over to the redhead in the passenger seat. “You gonna introduce me, or do I have to ask him myself?”

“Lieutenant, this is Cadet Leroy Jones; he’s accompanying me on beat today.” Alex turned to Tom, “Jones, this is Lieutenant Bree Munroe—running point on this operation.”

“Ha! You know it!” Bree crowed. “So, Al’s supposed to be showin’ you the ropes, huh, kid?” she winked at Tom. “Has he taken you out to his old stalking grounds yet?”

“All right,” Alex began to roll up his window, “Thanks for the lunch, Lieutenant. Radio if you need us to do anything else.”

Bree shook her head and strode away from the car.

“What did she mean, stalking?” Tom asked, glancing nervously at Alex, “You’re not a stalker, are you?”

“No,” Marlo muttered to herself and to Alex, “he just loves watching pretty girls!”

“She’s just teasing,” Alex reassured Tom. “She’s one of the ones who doesn’t think the way I pick calls is very cool.”

“I don’t know why,” Tom scoffed, “I certainly haven’t seen you do anything that looks anywhere close to stalking, and I haven’t seen any of these girls the other officers talk about—“

“Bogey on your four,” Alex murmured, nodding out Tom’s window. Tom discreetly checked that direction. A girl wearing chunky Prada sunglasses, a tea-length summer dress, and carrying a Gucci purse strode up the sidewalk.

“Oh yes,” Tom gasped, and Alex admired the way her brown hair curled around her face.

As the girl crossed over to approach on Alex’s side of the car, he saw her heel slip a bit—and in that slight, tipsy movement, realization hit him like a thunderclap: it was Adelaide! Here was the chance he’d been waiting for! She was nearing his window now. Alex rolled it down.

“Careful, ma’am,” he called to her, “wouldn’t want a pretty thing like you to be a danger to yourself!”

Adelaide Donahue stopped and turned, “Do I know you?” she demanded, walking over to his car.

“Maybe you don’t remember,” Alex suggested smoothly, “you were pretty full-up the night we first met.”

“Wait a minute!” Marlo burst out, “That’s the chick he followed the night we—“ she was too overcome to finish her sentence.

Adelaide, meanwhile, smiled as she remembered, “Hey! You’re the cop who followed me home after Sandie’s party!”

“That’s right, ma’am,” Alex answered, “I did; you don’t mean to say you remember that night?”

Adelaide blushed, a slight reddening in her tanned cheeks, “Well, no, that night’s pretty much a blur, but I heard from the neighbors what y’all did for me,” she leaned closer to Alex, “And I think it’s really sweet,” her voice dropped as she leaned in so close Alex could almost taste her breath, “…and I was just hoping for the chance to thank you…”

“Um, hello?” Tom was getting uncomfortable at being forced to witness the scene.

Alex fumbled for the handle of his door, wanting to continue this tryst outside the car so the cadet would not feel so uncomfortable, but Marlo screamed out, “Don’t you dare touch that handle, young man!”

Her voice was so shrill, Alex jumped and banged his head on the rim of the window. “Ouch!” he cried.

Adelaide pulled back, visibly disappointed. “Well, I have to go,” she said, still leaning her elbows on Alex’s door. “Do you have a name, Officer?” She winked.

“Alex, Miss—Alex Davis.”

The petite heiress winked, “Call me Addie, Alex.”

“All right—“

“No, seriously,” she reached into her purse and pulled out a small piece of paper. Addie dropped it through the window and into his lap, “Call me.”

She sauntered easily away.

Silence reigned in the car for ten seconds, and then Tom could not resist a long chuckle.

“Oh-ho-ho-ho!” he laughed, with an astounded grin on his face. “Is that how you do it, man?”

Alex ignored the frowns of the couple in the back seat and basked in the admiration of the rookie sitting next to him. “That’s sorta how I do it,” he answered, “yeah.”

“Dude!” Tom cried, “I feel like I should be taking notes or something!”

Once they received the “okay” to leave the Courthouse steps, Alex immediately requested permission to drive around the higher-end side of town, just to avoid being close to the sort of “small” jobs he’d spent all morning taking. It was easier, too, to avoid looking in that rearview mirror and seeing the disapproval of the Brendons, because the more they drove around the beachfront highways and the large outlet malls and the gated neighborhoods, the more Tom gushed about “chicks” and “lookers.” In particular, he would compare every girl he saw to Adelaide.

“Aw, look!” he cried out to Alex, whose eyes followed a pair of easy, slender young blondes with bleach-white smiles and flawless skin. One of them was walking a pint-sized terrier. “That one is wearing the same dress Adelaide had on!”

Alex glanced over to where Tom pointed, “Yeah, but it looks different on her, doesn’t it?” he remarked to the young cadet.

“True that!” Tom agreed.

Alex spent the rest of the day being choosy and basking in the raving adulation from the passenger seat. Tom was in high spirits by the time they pulled back into the garage at the station.

“Man! That was the most awesome beat I think a cop could ever have!” He told Alex as the young officer filled out the driving log for that day. “Thanks, Officer Davis; when I get to be a cop, I can’t wait to get a beat just like yours!”

Alex shook his head, “You’ve gotta put in the work first, man!” he reminded Tom loftily.

“Oh, right,” the redheaded cadet conceded, “Play comes later, right?”

Alex laughed, and Tom returned to the station.

“When you mentioned that you saw her the other day,” Ted remarked, “I should have known you meant that night.”

Alex turned to face the ghosts, “Why so worried?” he demanded hotly.

“Alex,” Marlo gazed at him with pity, “Obviously she’s an alcoholic, she’s spoiled-rotten, she thinks you’re a tool, and she—“

“Hey!” Alex snapped, “You know what? You guys have lived your lives already; I would appreciate it if you would let me at least live my personal life how I want, if you’re gonna claim custody of my professional life!”

“Alex,” Ted cautioned him, “Don’t you see that the choices you’re making in your personal life are affecting your professional life, too? You think you can just float through relationships and be choosy—and you’re trying to be choosy about your job, too?”

“Yeah, I am!” Alex retorted. “Maybe you never had the chance to get it, but that philosophy just happens to work for me, so I don’t intend to give it up any time soon, thank you very much!” He crossed his arms. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I believe I’m off–duty now, so I’ll be seeing you!” He stormed out of the garage.

“Yeah, you bet you will!” Marlo hollered after him.

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Communion: A Commitment To Unity

*This is an essay I wrote last fall. I don't pretend to be any sort of scholar or authority at all on Biblical matters; this was not a result of any length of arduous study. It is merely a frank understanding of some passages that I have read dozens of times without really understanding, and a straightforward look at a concept I had for so long taken for granted.

Imagine a friend asked you to come along to a memorial service for a relative of hers. You would go, right? Of course; you desire to support her in her time of grief.

            So you go, and once there, you discover that this particular relative has actually been dead and buried for some time. The “memorial service” turns out to be a detailed, ritualistic reenactment of the last twenty-four hours of the relative’s life, complete with the last meal she ate, the death, and the burial. Your friend’s grandfather stands and recites the last words of the deceased.

            Would that not be bizarre? Let us imagine a second scene.

            This time, it’s your own grandmother who has died. This venerated matriarch was regarded in your family as the anchor, the one who taught all your relatives everything they knew about life. At the funeral service, you all gather around her coffin and confess every wrong you’ve ever done her. Once confessional is over, the service ends and everyone goes about their business.

            Still crazy, right?

            Yet so many Christians treat Communion—the “memorial service” for Jesus Christ—in just these ways.

            Some are like the family in that first scene. Communion is a spiritual ritual, a disciplinary tradition complete with the recitation of the original Biblical account. The congregation goes through the motions, passing the plate and taking their specially-designed “Communion cups” of watered-down grape juice and the small corner of kosher matzo, and waiting for the Pastor to give the “okay” before you drink or eat… but that’s all it is; a synchronized ritual.

            Others try to pack the “ritual” with significance, and so treat Communion time as “confession” time, listing out every sin they’ve ever done. They rehearse the crucifixion scene in their minds, desperately trying to convince themselves that they did the act of nailing Jesus to the Cross, that the broken bread and the blood-red juice are more like evidence at a trial than tokens of remembrance. The Last Supper is a somber affair, very much like a “last rites” as opposed to a party feast. They feel that this is the right way to take Communion, because Communion represents a very serious time in Jesus’ life.

            I am not saying that either of these are “bad” or “sinful”, per se—but perhaps they are both a bit unbalanced, slightly skewed off-kilter. I do not pretend to offer the “right” way of taking Communion based on years of research and study and a thorough exegesis. What I intend to offer, if you’ve never thought about it before, is some context and a bit of perspective, Amen?

            First, let’s place the First Communion in it’s context. What exactly was the Last Supper? It certainly was not like the “last supper” of today, served to criminals on death row, where they are going to die soon, but at least they can die marginally happy with a belly full of whatever food they want.

For those who don’t know, that night every Jew in Jerusalem (including Jesus Himself) was observing the Passover Seder. For those who remember somewhere in the Gospel of Matthew something about the Passover before the Crucifixion account, but are not sure where the whole “supper” thing comes in, there is in fact a meal that takes place in the midst of the symbolism and the ritual and the recitations and the guzzling goblets of grape juice. It’s not something Christians decided to stick in there to “redeem” the tradition from Judaism just because Jesus happened to be having a regular meal with His disciples while everyone else in the city followed a prescribed reenactment.

In the Seder (which Jesus and His disciples observed), there are traditionally four cups of wine (or juice) poured at specific times. Two cups come before the meal. Immediately following the meal is the traditional breaking and eating of the afikommen, a specially-named “loaf” of unleavened bread, followed directly by the Third Cup. Incidentally, the Cups all have names and special significance, too: The Cup of Sanctification, The Cup of Deliverance, The Cup of Redemption, and the Cup of Praise.

            With that in mind, let’s look back at the account of the Last Supper, according to Mark 14:22-24:

            “And as they were eating…”—This is the traditional Seder meal, remember?

“He took bread, and when he had blessed, he brake it, and gave to them, and said, Take ye: this is my body.”—This is the afikommen, still within the Seder tradition.

“And he took the cup…”—What Cup? The Cup of Redemption.

 

“…and when he had given thanks, he gave to them: and they all drank of it.”—

Still the traditional Jewish Seder happening.

 

“And he said unto them, This is my blood of the covenant, which is poured out for many.”

........OH!!

The light goes on. Jesus had already poured out the Cups of Sanctification and Deliverance, remember? Why did He wait until the Third Cup? A cup of drink is a cup of drink, is it not?

As it says in the Seder, “on other nights”, a cup of juice is certainly a cup of juice, a means of refreshment and hydration. But you see, during the Seder, the cup of juice or wine is more than “just a cup.” They have names with special significance attached. So you see. Jesus had very good reasons for waiting until after the meal—waiting till that Third Cup, the Cup of Redemption—to try once more to get His disciples to understand what was about to happen. Because in His Blood, we have Redemption; not just Sanctification, nor simply Deliverance—we have Redemption.

Now do you understand? Communion is not just a reenactment or a ritual. It’s a realization. When you drink the juice at Communion, you are partaking in that Cup of Redemption, acknowledging that Jesus brings Redemption by His Blood, which He shed for that very purpose on the Cross.

So if Communion is more than a ritual, does that mean that considering it a time of arduous confession is right? Not entirely; confession is valid and worthwhile, and should happen during Communion, if it never happens anywhere else, lest we “eat and drink unworthily,” as Paul writes in 1 Corinthians—but permit me to contend that it ought not be our whole focus during that time!

Let us consider again that First Communion: did Judas Iscariot feel any remorse or feel the need to confess all of the sin in his heart? No; but look at the consequence he suffered because he ate and drank, and then betrayed the One he had Communed with.

Did the disciples use that time to confess all their sins? The Bible doesn’t say so; yet they were Communing in their hearts with Jesus, and so were not “unworthy” of the Lord’s Table. They did not “eat and drink damnation”; they ate and drank Redemption. Was it a sober moment? Was any man there considering the cross and the devastation? No; in fact, they had no idea that Jesus was about to die. After all, it was only the Passover.

So what is Communion if not confession time? Confess, yes, but be mindful of why you are confessing! It’s not just to kill time, and it’s not to make you cry or because you feel awkward about sitting and waiting while everyone else is praying. The opportunity to confess is if the Holy Spirit brings to mind something that is disrupting the unity between yourself and God, or yourself and another believer. Communion is not about sin, it’s about Redemption. It’s not about killing Christ over again; it’s about the fact that He now lives, and the same Power that gave Him life has also redeemed us to live as well.

Here I will offer a third view of Communion that takes the two views I expressed in the beginning and combines their valid points with the perspective and the context I have just described.

Communion is an act that I participate in that involves confessing my sin to God or the one I have sinned against as a demonstration of my COMMitment to the UNION between myself and God, and the unity between myself and fellow Christians.

Very often a wedding ceremony will include the couple’s first Communion together. Why? Is it because of tradition, like walking down the aisle or exchanging vows? No. Is it necessary for the couple to confess their sins to one another right there in the middle of the ceremony? No.

In taking that communion, the couple is demonstrating their commitment to each other and to God in a much deeper way than repeating their vows.

Jesus demonstrated his commitment to the restoration of the unity that sin had disrupted when He established Communion with His disciples. When we take Communion at church, we are affirming that same pledge for unification, demonstrating that same commitment that nothing should come between us as believers, or between God and ourselves.

More than a pious custom; more than personal confession; Communion is a public, corporate COMMitment to UNION.