Presence

Yesterday, while driving home I noticed that there was a strong police presence in I-26 after I crossed into NC. A state trooper watching for speeders, a car pulled over in the other traffic direction, a semi-truck pulled on an exit ramp, there were a lot of them.

And then, after about 5 minutes of driving carefully and watching my speed like a good citezen, I saw something daunting in my rear-view mirror. It was another trooper. He tailed me for a mile before making to pass me; but, after coming alongside me to take a look at me (a suspicious character I'm sure) he moved back behind me and soon turned on his lights.

Arg! I wasn't doing anything wrong! I hadn't been speeding. Then I remembered my sister who (I think) once got a ticket for going 1 mile over the speed limit from a cop trying to meet his quota for the month. This is not what I needed.

Very politely the officer greeted me through the passenger window and said why he'd pulled me over: "North Carolina law states you can't have anything blocking or covering your liscence plate." Oh. A fair rule I sure; however, I wasn't aware that my liscence plate frame which says Tar Heel Alumni on it was blocking my plate. He asked if I'd like to see what he meant, and I agreed. Behind the car he pointed out that, yes, the lower bar on the cheap plastic $6 frame was indeed covering the bottom half of the still-clearly-intelligable words North Carolina.

Apparantly, I was doing something very wrong. So now, you are indeed reading the blog of, yes, a criminal. I confess I was concealing my liscence plate in a devious attempt to carry out my master scheme of......concealing my plate. I understand if you quit reading from here on out and don't want to be associated with me anymore. I, personally, wouldn't want to be involved with such riff-raff myself, but apparantly I do reside in a den of theives.

The officer issued me a warning and indeed wrote on it that this violator's violation was to "cover/conceal registration plate."

My real guess is that the armada of state troopers was attempting to make known their presence on this stretch of highway. They did a good job. Presence noted.

But this got me thinking on the power of presence. Because I know more keenly of the troopers' presence on the highway, I will surely be driving more prudently during my last week to-and-fro from Spartanburg. Presence can make a big difference. For instance, there are times in the hospital when the security guards hang around the ER or the cafeteria (to keep people from stealing 24-packs of soda), and I'm convinced they make a difference. Because of the vast amount of shady characters who enter the ER I've no doubt the staff feels a bit more secure with a security presence.

Presence is also a big part of my role as a chaplain. When a baby dies, or there's a horrible car accident, or when someone's wife passes away after a long bout with cancer, when heart attacks take the life of a loved one or when someone is terrified about a risky surgery there's usually not much I can say that will do much good. No, words are more often less helpful than simply my presence.

My presence is the best and most life giving gift I have for sufferers in the hospital. My presence let's them know they're not alone, let's them know that I'll walk with them step-by-painful-step through these few hours. Often my stays with people in the ER begin with my asking, "Do you mind if I just sit you with?" and they end with someone hugging me tightly and saying "thank you" even if they can't articulate what the thanks is for.

Similarly, there's something about the divine presence with us during these moments that has a life-giving result. My role as a minister reminds people that God is also present, also hurting, also wounded. My being present with them is God being present with them. No, I'm am not God; but, by loving them with my caring presence I believe I am in fact incarnating a God who is most often described as just that, love.

Rob Bell, in his book Velvet Elvis writes:

Suffering is a place where cliches don't work and words often fail. I was at lunch last week with a friend who is in the middle of some difficult days, and I don't have any answers. I just don't. I can't fix it for him. I've tried. And we sat there and talked and ate, and I let him know that I'm in it with him. It isn't very pretty and it isn't very fun, but when we join each other in the pain and confusion, God is there...And it is in our suffering together that we find out we are not alone. We find out who really loves us. We find out that with these people around us, we can make it through anything. And that give us something to celebrate.