Blessed are the merciful, for they will be shown mercy.

I had an appointment scheduled for 11:15. I loaded my three children in the van, along with a friend & her teenage daughter to help babysit and drove an hour to the office. It was raining and thundering when we got there. I checked in. I went to the car to unload the kids and thankfully, decided against it due to the rain. I went back in, sans children, learning that my midwife had to go to the hospital to deliver a baby. “You can come back at 1:30 or reschedule for Monday or Tuesday morning.” Rescheduling was out, so we entertained ourselves until the appointment. As suspected, my previously problematic ovary was enlarged. Great.

We get some snacks from Fresh Market and head for home. I’m exhausted. The kids are wild and ready to be out of the car. My mind is reeling thinking about things, including all I have to do when I get home to prepare for dinner tonight, preschool group tomorrow, Easter next week, Emma’s first communion next month, and my cousin’s wedding in June.

As I turn off one country road onto another, I start thinking about how I need to turn right on the correct highway as I approach town so that I can pick up our farm fresh milk at the country store. I make two wrong turns because I don’t usually come from that direction and because my mind is in a hundred different places. I approach a school. You know where this is going right?

I am so distracted by the school grounds themselves – some giant, windowed postmodern monstrosity juxtaposed against cotton fields and farm houses, with the old brick building in the process of being torn apart by a giant wrecker – that I don’t really pay attention to the 20 mph speed limit. I’m just driving along, letting my mind wander when I see a car pulled over up ahead by a police officer. Poor lady, I think as I catch a glimpse of her out my side window. Poor me, I think as I catch a glimpse of another police SUV flashing its lights at me in my rear view mirror.

I hear my crime: “You accelerated to 41 mph in a 20 mph school zone.”

“I’m so sorry, I didn’t realize,” was my sheepish reply. You have got to be kidding me. How could I possibly have been so careless?

“What’s the year of your vehicle?”

“2005.”

“What’s your phone number?”

Confused, I offer it up, thinking he’s probably trying to make sure I’m sober.

I hand over my driver’s license and insurance card. He takes a long glance into the backseat of my van and then proceeds back to his vehicle.

Finally, I watch him emerge from his SUV. He has my citation in hand. My very first speeding ticket. And I was only going 41 mph. How boring.

The good news was that he cut me a break – my ticket would have been over $400 if he had written it for my real speed. Instead, I would only owe $156.

I don’t know what made me do it, except for the fact that I just felt like I really could not stand the fact that this was happening to me. Today. With all the upcoming expenses. With my heart so heavy over so many things lately.

Like a pathetic worm, I begged him, please, if there was anything he could do – to not give me the ticket. I told him the story of my day and that I could not afford this right now. He calmly explained that there were payment plans. I begged one more time. buried my face in my hands, and then calmly, with a twinge of pity in his voice, heard him instruct me to “just take the ticket.”

I slowly pulled away, and then I cried. My daughter asked to come cuddle with me and the boys started calling for me sweetly. I told them it would be okay. We got our milk. We went home. End of the story, right? You pay your fine and you deal with it, right? Not today.

As we were sitting on the couch resting, I heard my cell phone ring. I thought it was probably my mom calling me back, so after a few more minutes of snuggling, I got up to call her back.

Missed call and voicemail from “Private Number.” I dialed to listen to the message.

It was the police lieutenant who had pulled me over, and would I please return his call. I had to replay the message to write down the phone number, and then I immediately called him back.

You might not believe this, because I almost still don’t because I have never in my life heard of anything like this happening before, but after our initial greetings, he told me that if I would just go ahead and tear up the ticket that he would take care of it on his end. He instructed me to be more careful. And then he reminded me again that I could just tear up the ticket. I thanked him profusely and hung up the phone, reeling from complete shock.

Then, like a torrent of rain, it hit me: this is what it feels like to be shown mercy. Beyond the ticket and the immediate situation, the reality of the unfathomable divine mercy of God pierced my soul in an entirely new way. I would not have felt that mercy had he initially obliged my pathetic entreaty. It was only after I felt the weight of my crime and the shame of the impending punishment that I could truly and fully appreciate the mercy. The mercy of not getting what I deserve. Of not getting what I truly thought I was going to get. The mercy of being pulled out of what I was already getting.

I buckled under the emotional pressure of everything and once more, bent over, fell to my knees and cried hard. I needed this lesson today. I needed to be humbled, yet again, and remember just what God has done and continues to do for me in His deep, unfathomable mercy. I realized that it takes humility to seek mercy. In my case today – sheer humiliation. But I also realized that this humility is the starting point for how humans are to approach God. We come, begging His mercy. And when we do, He never disappoints.