Might need tissues for some of these!!

The Cop

Jack took a long look at his speedometer before slowing down: 73 in a 55 zone.
Fourth time in as many months.
How could a guy get caught so often?

When his car had slowed to 10 miles an hour, Jack pulled over, but only partially.
Let the cop worry about the potential traffic hazard. Maybe some other car will tweak his backside with a mirror.

The cop was stepping out of his car, the big pad in hand. Bob? Bob from Church?
Jack sunk farther into his trench coat. This was worse than the coming ticket.
A Christian cop catching a guy from his own church.
A guy who happened to be a little eager to get home after a long day at the office.
A guy he was about to play golf with tomorrow.

Jumping out of the car, he approached a man he saw every Sunday, a man he'd never seen in uniform.
"Hi, Bob. Fancy meeting you like this."
"Hello, Jack." No smile.
"Guess you caught me red-handed in a rush to see my wife and kids."
"Yeah, I guess."
Bob seemed uncertain. Good.
"I've seen some long days at the office lately. I'm afraid I bent the rules a bit - just this once."
Jack toed at a pebble on the pavement. "Diane said something about roast beef and potatoes tonight. Know what I mean?"
"I know what you mean. I also know that you have a reputation in our precinct."

Ouch. This was not going in the right direction. Time to change tactics.
"What'd you clock me at?"
"Seventy. Would you sit back in your car please?"
"Now wait a minute here, Bob. I checked as soon as I saw you. I was barely nudging 65."
The lie seemed to come easier with every ticket.
"Please, Jack, in the car."
Flustered, Jack hunched himself through the still-open door.
Slamming it shut, he stared at the dash board. He was in no rush to open the window.

The minutes ticked by.
Bob scribbled away on the pad. Why hadn't he asked for a driver's license?
Whatever the reason, it would be a month of Sundays before Jack ever sat near this cop again.

A tap on the door jerked his head to the left.
There was Bob, a folded paper in hand.
Jack rolled down the window a mere two inches, just enough room for Bob to pass him the slip.

"Thanks." Jack could not quite keep the sneer out of his voice.
Bob returned to his police car without a word. Jack watched his retreat in the mirror.
Jack unfolded the sheet of paper. How much was this one going to cost?
Wait a minute. What was this? Some kind of joke?
Certainly not a ticket.

Jack began to read:
"Dear Jack, Once upon a time I had a daughter.
She was six when killed by a car. You guessed it - a speeding driver.
A fine and three months in jail, and the man was free.
Free to hug his daughters. All three of them.
I only had one, and I'm going to have to wait until Heaven before I can ever hug her again.
A thousand times I've tried to forgive that man.
A thousand times I thought I had. Maybe I did, but I need to do it again.
Even now. Pray for me. And be careful. My son is all I have left."
"Bob"

Jack turned around in time to see Bob's car pull away and head down the road.
Jack watched until it disappeared.
A full 15 minutes later, he too, pulled away and drove slowly home,
praying for forgiveness and hugging a surprised wife and kids when he arrived.




Heart of Hearts

One day a young man was standing in the middle of the town proclaiming that he had
the most beautiful heart in the whole valley.
A large crowd gathered and they all admired his heart for it was perfect.
There was not a mark or a flaw in it.
Yes, they all agreed it truly was the most beautiful heart they had ever seen.

The young man was very proud and boasted more loudly about his beautiful heart.
Suddenly, an old man appeared at the front of the crowd and said
"Why your heart is not nearly as beautiful as mine."
The crowd and the young man looked at the old man's heart.
It was beating strongly, but full of scars, it had places where pieces had been removed
and other pieces put in, but they didn't fit quite right and there were several jagged edges.
In fact, in some places there were deep gouges where whole pieces were missing.
The people stared - how can he say his heart is more beautiful, they thought?

The young man looked at the old man's heart and saw its state and laughed.
"You must be joking," he said. "Compare your heart with mine,
mine is perfect and yours is a mess of scars and tears."
"Yes," said the old man, "Yours is perfect looking but I would never trade with you.
You see, every scar represents a person to whom I have given my love -
I tear out a piece of my heart and give it to them,
and often they give me a piece of their heart which fits into the empty place in my heart,
but because the pieces aren't exact, I have some rough edges,
which I cherish, because they remind me of the love we shared.
Sometimes I have given pieces of my heart away,
and the other person hasn't returned a piece of his heart to me.
These are the empty gouges - giving love is taking a chance.
Although these gouges are painful, they stay open,
reminding me of the love I have for these people too,
and I hope someday they may return and fill the space I have waiting.
So now do you see what true beauty is?"

The young man stood silently with tears running down his cheeks.
He walked up to the old man, reached into his perfect,
young and beautiful heart, and ripped a piece out.
He offered it to the old man with trembling hands.
The old man took his offering, placed it in his heart
and then took a piece from his old scarred heart
and placed it in the wound in the young man's heart.
It fit, but not perfectly, as there were some jagged edges.

The young man looked at his heart, not perfect anymore
but more beautiful than ever, since love from the old man's heart flowed into his.
They embraced and walked away side by side.