This past Monday, Rachel picked me up at work so that we could drive in one car across town to visit our friends who just recently had their firstborn son at Lexington Medical Center. We were going to drop by my workplace and pick up my car after our visit, but for some reason we didn't.

The next day, Rachel drove me to work. We got pulled over by a youngish-looking Deputy Sheriff of Richland County. He told us that the registration sticker on Rachel's license plate was not up to date, and that he was going to have to write us a ticket. (For those of you who are not from South Carolina, one gets a new registration sticker for the year when one has paid the property taxes on one's car.) The ticket was for over $200. He explained that all Rachel had to do was pay her car tax for last year, and bring proof of payment and her new registration to her court date -- on May 17th. I blurted from the passenger seat, "She's having a baby that week!" He smiled graciously, gave us his card, and said that we could just mail him proof of our tax payment and registration renewal, and he would nullify the ticket. "Oh, and your left taillight is out, too," he said, handing Rachel a Warning Ticket for that. Overall, he was eminently reasonable, and we continued on our way a little flummoxed by getting pulled over, but thankful that there was a way out provided.

I went home at lunch time that day, and found Rachel's car tax bill. Sure enough it looked like we had forgotten to pay it. It had come back in December, and it wasn't like we were distraCted by otHeR thIngS That Month or AnythingS. So I drove over to the Richland County Office building downtown to pay the bill, which was only about $70. The nice bureacrats told me that they could give me a receipt for my tax payment, but that they were out of last year's registration stickers, so I would have to go the the DMV to get the proper sticker. Oh well, progress made that day, and I've heard that the DMV isn't as bad as it used to be. I have to go over there anyway, because my drivers license is expiring on my birthday, which is in a few weeks.

So we arrive at today. I told my boss yesterday evening that I'd be late coming into work because I had to stop by the DMV. I was considering going out of my way to the Shop Road office of the DMV, because I heard that they moved people through really fast there. Nevertheless, I was sorry to go so far out of my way, and something told me that I should go to the Decker Blvd. DMV office, because it's directly on my way to work, and how bad could the line be if I leave early enough? I went over there, and was the fifth person in line in front of the door which was to unlock in about 20 minutes. I was happy to read my book until the doors were opened, and I managed to get the sticker and a new license in about 15-20 minutes. Pleased about how quick it was, I walked out the door and saw a Richland County Deputy Sheriff standing around and watching the premises. He looked vaguely familiar, and I looked for a nametag to see if he was the same guy. I caught his eye, and he said, "Didn't I pull you over earlier this week?" Our previous encounter confirmed, he asked if I did what he asked us to do. I showed him the tax receipt and the new registration, and he asked, "What's your wife's name again?" I told him, and he made some notes in a little notebook and told me that he would void the citation directly and that I didn't even have to send him anything through the mail.

Noone could wipe the smile off my face or take God's praise out of my heart as I drove to Rachel's workplace to put the sticker on her plate and the registration in her glovebox. I drove to work with the windows rolled down (breezy and 70deg F this morning) and U2's "In the Name of Love" played on my radio as I pulled into the parking lot.