Several days ago as I left a meeting at our church, I desperately gave myself a personal custom's style pat down. I was looking for my keys, but they were not in my pockets. I quickly searched the meeting room to no avail.
Suddenly I realised, I must have left them in the car, a common practice, I'd leave the keys in the ignition as it saved frantically searching for them when you misplace them. I calmly headed for the parking lot remembering the last time my wife, Claire, has scolded me for this very act, her concern was that the car would get be stolen. I'd told her if that were true it would have happened by now, and besides, if they have the keys they don't need to break anything, we could get it back in one piece. As I burst through the doors of the church, I came to a terrifying conclusion. Her concern had happened. The parking lot was empty, my car had been stolen.
I immediately call the police. I gave them my location, confessed that I had left my keys in the car, and that it had been stolen. Then I made the most difficult call of all, "Honey," I stammered. I always call her "honey" in times like these. "I left my keys in the car, and it has been stolen."
There was a period of silence. I thought the call had been dropped, but then I heard her speak through gritted teeth "Ken, I dropped you off!"
Oh the relief, slightly embarrassed, and trying to sound as humorous as possible I said, "Well, what are you waiting for? Come and get me."
Claire replied with a controlled frustration in her voice, "I will, honey, just as soon as I can convince these policemen that I did not steal your car!!!"