The Scandal of Grace

McCrea sat in the small room, head down, staring at his dirty hands. He could hear nothing but the rumble of his stomach, but that didn't matter to him. He was in trouble. Three days ago he had stolen a car. He stole the car so he could sell it for parts.  He was cold, hungry, dirty, tired and afraid - the money could at least help him with some of that. But now he was sitting in a room with a metal table and two folding chairs waiting for his fate to be sealed.

His eyes burned as he fought to hold back tears, his throat ached as he choked back the sobs. He couldn't cry. He had done something wrong and now he had to pay the consequences. His stomach growled again as the door opened. He stared at his dirty cuticles until someone cleared their throat. First he saw the shoes, brown leather with thin brown strings, a matching belt was looped through his khaki pants, a red plaid shirt was thrown over a white t-shirt, his large arms, folded across his chest, his jaw line covered in last night's 5 o'clock shadow, his dark brown hair stuck up haphazardly all over his head. McCrea recognized the man's face from many billboards and his stomach dropped - it was the Governor.

"What's your name?" he asked.

"McCrea", he whispered.

"McCrea, When's the last time you ate?"

"I dunno, sir. A couple of days ago."

The governor studied him for a minute, then he turned around and walked out.

"Now you're in for it," McCrea said to himself as the knot in his stomach pulled even tighter. "You must be in huge trouble if they're calling in the Governor."

Time moved slowly as McCrea sat alone. All he could do was think and wait.

He thought about life - and waited.
He thought about the mistakes that he made - and waited.
He thought about the good times that he had before his whole life fell apart - and he waited.
He thought about the hurt that he felt - and he waited.
He thought about what a disappointment he was - and he waited.
He thought about how unfair life was - and he waited.
He thought about how much better his life would be...if only - and he waited.
He thought about how many people would miss him if he were gone - and he waited.

He sat there with his head in his hands and tears on his cheeks. Broken. Hungry. Dirty. Tired. Afraid. Ashamed. He had nothing to offer. No money for a lawyer. There was nothing that he could do to get out of this, then again why should he? He was guilty anyways. Worthless to society. Nothing he could ever do would make him or anyone else better off. He could work for years, but he would still be broken, tired, afraid and ashamed.

The click of the door pulled him out of his thoughts and there stood the Governor.  In his hands he held two bags.  As he began to unload them, McCrea's mind was spinning.  Salad, bread sticks, pasta, chicken, sweet tea, cheesecake. He hadn't seen that much food since before his mom died.

"Eat." The Governor commanded, but McCrea just sat there.  He couldn't move. His stomach was roaring, but he was too ashamed to eat anything.

"Please, eat" he said and McCrea reluctantly complied.  He started off slowly, but then quickly began to shovel the food into his mouth.  He ate his fill and then a little more, while the Governor sat and watched.  His brown eyes catching McCrea's every move, not saying a word.

When he was finished eating, he was ushered into a small room, instructed to remove his clothes and then guided into a shower. His first shower in weeks; the water was hot on his cold skin and he watched as a month's worth of dirt and filth washed down the drain.  When he got out of the shower he reached for his old tattered clothes but found in their place, a pair of brown leather shoes, a belt to match, socks, khaki pants, underwear, a white t-shirt and a red plaid shirt. Confused, McCrea dressed with trembling hands and made his way back to the small room where the Governor was waiting.

McCrea sat down, kept his eyes on his hands and his hands in his lap and waited.  Finally the silence was too much and he burst out:

"I'm sorry!" He cried.
"Did you know that the car that you stole was mine?" asked the Governor.
"I am so sorry! I've never done anything like this before! As soon as I get out of jail, I promise I'll pay you back!"
"Son," the Governor said, "How long have you been on the streets?"
"About six months now, sir."
"Where are you parents?"
"I never knew my father and my mom died about a year ago.  I was in foster care for a while, but I couldn't stay in that house so I left."
Silence...
"I really am sorry! I was just so hungry and I didn't know what else to do! I swear, I'll pay you back as soon as I get out of jail!"
The Governor looked a little confused. "Who said anything about jail?" He asked as he slid a piece of paper across the table.  "Do you know what this is?" McCrea shook his head.
"This is an official complaint against you for your crime."

McCrea's vision became blurry as he fought back tears.

The Governor reached over, picked up the paper, tore it in half and then again and again until it was just small pieces of confetti on the table.  McCrea stared at him, bewildered as tears rolled down his cheeks.

"McCrea, I'm going to make you the offer of a life time. Are you ready?" McCrea slowly nodded his head.
"You're going to come and live with me, you're going to go to school and get your diploma and then in the evenings after school, you're going to work for me.  On the weekends, you are going to take me to every chop shop that you sold parts to and I am going to pay to get my car parts back, then you and I are going to to put that car back together.  When we're finished the car will belong to you."

McCrea couldn't speak, the tears rushed out as he shook his head in disbelief. Finally he managed to ask "Why?"

The Governor reached over, grabbed McCrea's hand and looked him square in the eye. "I know that you stole my car because you were hungry.  You were scared, you didn't know what else to do. You didn't know that you had anyone that you could turn to, but now you do. From now on I'm the one you turn to. I am on your side. I want you to be able to become like me so that you can help others."

"But sir, I don't deserve this," McCrea whispered.

The Governor chuckled. "Son, the scandal of grace is that I'm going to front the cost of everything that you did while you were lost, in order for you to have a free life now that you are found."

With that the Governor stood up, pushed in his chair and walked to the door while McCrea sat and watched. He opened the door and turned his head, "Are you coming?"