Under arrest

Of all the things I anticipated at work this morning, being arrested was not one of them. That, however, became a stunning reality at 9:00 AM as the sheriff fastened the handcuffs and ushered me into his squad car.

My charge: excessive politeness and riding my biking against the flow of traffic. The bond was set at 600$. The occasion: United Way’s yearly fund-raiser.

Here’s how it works, you pay the united way 20 $ and on November 5th, today, in cahoots with the county police, they arrest their victims (I mean, criminals). The victims then are put in “jail,” where they are held until they can raise the money to pay their bond. They are given a phone book, a phone, and the rest is up to them.

So I bid farewell to my co-workers at the bank, locked the drawers, and was led away with the officer. We arrived at the Wal-mart parking lot, where the the officer took my cuffs off. I was given a stripped prison suite. Standing before the “judge,” my charges were read. Then I was “thrown” into jail.

There were about 5 other people already imprisoned, passionately calling friends to bail them out. Through the prison bars I could see another vanload arriving, bringing more criminals to unload. I sat down in the last remaining chair, the local librarian on my left, the secretary from the lawyer’s office on my right.

Honestly, this was not the place I wanted to be at the moment. I would much rather have been in my comfortable office chair, sipping the fresh, warm cup of coffee which would now be left to get cold. Before picking up the phone, I paused, listening to the pitiful pleas of my fellow prisoners. Each was begging “will you pledge to give a gift to the United Way? They’ve got me locked up.” I can’t get out until I raise…”

How long had some of these “prisoners” been here? They already seemed so desparate to get back to their jobs, their normal routines. How long would they continue to be stuck here? How many calls would it take?

I, however, knew who I would call. In fact, I knew as soon as the officer had put the cuffs on me in the bank. So when I picked up the phone, I dialed my one and only hope of rescue, my manager. She was not in our office today. She probablly did not even know what had happened since she was filling in for an office out of town.

As the phone range, I waited for her voice. She answered, I explained. Immediatly she told me to give the phone to the president of the United Way. I did. Within minutes I was back in the squad car, on my way back to the bank.

I knew who to call. There’s no telling how long some of those folks were there in prison today. As for me, all it took was one call to the right person, and I was out instantly. It reminded me of alot of prayer. Too many times we forget who to call on in our times of trouble. How often do we treat God as a last resort, when he should be our first. The Bible reminds, “Call upon me in the day of trouble.”

When I walked back into the bank, still wearing my prison suit, everyone was surprised. But even more surprised was the lady I handed my chains and outfit to. It turns out, my boss wanted me at work. The officer had gotten the wrong person. Another co-worker would get the privilege of raising a bail-out for the United way. As for me, I was out with only one phone call because my first dial was to the right person. Will yours be?

There will be an article about all of this in tomorrows edition of the Franklin Times.