Angel Cop

One morning last spring I was driving down US1 at 5:30 in the morning. Well, I wasn't just driving, I was speeding. I was going at least 15 miles over the 45mph limit, and my mind was not on the road. I was in a hurry to get from Kendall to Coral Gables to the meditation center where I go to slow down.

Before I noticed the red lights of a police car flashing in my rear view mirror, my thoughts were elsewhere. I was silently repeating the steps of "The 12 Step Program of Co-Dependents Anonymous" in my head. I was dissecting each word, thinking they would make an impression on my brain, and an imprint on my life. Each time I reached the 12th step, I'd start over. I was thinking about how interesting it was that I hadn't had a "Higher Power" in my life before, and now I was living a life based on just that. I was thinking about God.

I had no idea how long I had been speeding or how long the police officer had been following me, but I did slow down and pull over somewhere between South Miami and Coral Gables. I felt overwhelmed and a bit confused. I searched for my registration and pulled out my license, anticipating the moment when I had to answer that famous question, "Do you know how fast you were going, Madam?"

Just Tell The Truth

I just sat there. I wondered why they always make you wait so long before coming over to your car. I felt a sense of surrender come over me. All of a sudden a very strong thought entered my consciousness. It said, "Juanita, just tell him the truth. Explain what you were doing and what you are going through so that he can understand and help you. He is a person, too. It will be alright."

Finally, he got out of the car and walked over to my window. I didn't really want to look at him directly because I was scared, but I did anyway. He asked in an authoritative police officer voice, "So, where you think you're flying to so fast?"

Under my breath, so that he couldn't really hear me I said, "I was thinking about God and I was flying through my steps." I told him my thinking was not on my driving. Then I lost it. I really tried hard to hold back my emotions, but they were out and I was crying in front of this tall, dark and serious man in an official uniform.

He said in a firm voice, "I don't want any tears here." I cried even more. It seemed that once I noticed I was crying, it just opened a faucet in my eyes. I felt relief. I didn't care anymore who saw me crying, even a police officer. The flood gates were already open and I began to talk.

I told him I was on my way to meditation and that everything in my life was a real mess right now: I was planning a divorce, I'd had breast cancer a year earlier, but was better now, and that I was working at putting my life together. I kept talking, as he stood outside my car window listening to me in the dark of dawn.

Then something unusual happened. He handed my driver's license back to me. I thought, "What, no ticket? No driving school?" He told me I needed to slow down. If something was wrong, I needed to pull over for a while, then get back on the road when I could pay attention to my driving. He talked. I listened. I talked. He listened. This went on for about 15 minutes.

Wise Advice

Now that I had my license back in my hand, the pressure and anxiousness was eased. He kept talking to me and asking me questions. He began moving around in a sort of animated way outside the car. It seemed like he was trying to cheer me up. This would take some doing considering how I felt. He asked me about my marriage and my previous marriage which I had mentioned to him as well. He asked me what I was doing to take care of myself. All of a sudden, it felt like this man understood exactly what I was talking about. He praised me for having courage to do all that I was doing and making the efforts to build a new life for myself. It felt really good to hear all this. He told me that any time I wanted to talk, to just call Lawson, and he pointed to the place on his pocket where his missing name tag was supposed to be. The name Lawson stuck in my mind.

Lawson had a distinctive voice. He told me I could be and do whatever I wanted to do in my life. If I wanted to paint my house pink with purple polka dots, I could do it. It was my choice now. Not someone else's. This encouragement felt good.

We shared more about my particular situation at home. He said more wise things. He had a sense of humor that got me to look at my life in a different way. I had been seeing the negative for so long that it had become difficult for me to see anything else. But because of this police officer, I began to feel excitement about the possibilities of my new life on my own. I felt lighter. I really began to believe that all would turn out okay, actually, better than just okay. From where I had been, I began to realize that things could only get better from now on. I started believing it could be easy.

More Than An Accident

Lawson and I were brought together that morning for a reason. He was doing his job, but actually doing a whole lot more. He was yet another person on my path to teach me just what I needed, when I needed to know it. He taught me to slow down my car and my racing thoughts. He taught me that people in authority aren't there to make me wrong. He got me to laugh. He helped me in ways I am still finding out about today.

We finished talking. I felt like I had made a friend in that moment. He asked to shake my hand and I extended it out the car window. He bent over and kissed the top of it in a gentlemanly way and told me to take good care of myself. I smiled, said I would and drove slowly down US1 toward my destination.

The next day, I called both the Coral Gables and the South Miami Police Departments looking to locate Lawson's address. I wanted to send him a note to thank him for his kindness and tell him what it meant to me. I found out his first name was Samuel and he worked for the South Miami Police Department.

I wrote the note and included a poem I had written about my recovery called "Silent Transformation." I included my phone number and sent it off. Within a week after receiving my letter, he called. We talked for about half an hour. It was as if we knew each other for a long time. We shared about our experiences and our lives. I told him I enjoyed writing short stories and poems and that someday I would write about this experience and that it would appear in the newspaper. I told him to look for it.

So, Officer Samuel Lawson, here is my story about meeting you. I drive the speed limit now. Thank you once again for your kindness and the unconditional love that you extended to me that morning as my car raced to keep up with my life. You are an angel in my book.

Recommended book:
"Breaking Free of the Co-Dependency Trap" by Barry Weinhold

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