The beauty of bee-lievable grace

You never know what's going to happen on a 36-hour road trip. My niece had once been artist-in-residence at St Gertrude's Monastery in Cottonwood — or I might not have known about this beautiful place. I invited a couple friends — and my 13-year-old grand — to hear a “pocket lecture” on Idaho County history at the monastery museum.  

The speaker had developed a set of playing cards based on people from the county's early years — fascinating stories like that of Moses “California Joe” Milner, 1829-1876. He took a shortcut and shot and killed a guy who had absconded with his horse — leaving a note on the body that this is what happens to anyone trying to steal his mare. 

We overnighted in Grangeville and toured the scenic grounds of St. Gertrude's the next day, including its museum and chapel, and a “hidden” cemetery tucked in the woods. I loved the museum note of the Sisters fresh over from Europe in the late 1800s — unaware of American customs — who were thirsty and entered an eating establishment and ordered a beer. 

All went well until a few miles from Lewiston on the return home. A state trooper was tracking me — and then the “flashing blue” lit up. He had clocked me doing 75 across the bridge. I admitted to 70 because “I thought I was allowed 5 over.” He said it didn't say that in the rulebooks. 

He thought I'd been weaving on the road — and suspected me of driving impaired. It didn't take him long to table that idea. I introduced him to my friend and in the back seat, her 95-year-old mother and my teen grand. 

About then my grand yelped there was a bee in the car. I told her to get out. The trooper said he'd get it. I asked my friend to hand him the note pad from the glove box to swat it. His partner — seeing the trooper in my car, stretched over the back seat trying to get the bee — came walking over. 

My friend and I were shaking with silent laughter in the front seat. We did not think it wise to let on, we found the whole thing funny. The officer did not locate the bee. He let me know I would not be getting a ticket. I said sincerely, “Well, if you think I need one …” That was met with a “no.”  

Since that was over, I asked him where a good place was to eat lunch before driving up Lewiston Hill. He advised us to go on to Moscow. The nearly 96-year-old had been getting hungry. I told my friend since we were pulled over maybe we should get some snacks out of the trunk for her mother.  

By now a third trooper had stopped. All three officers were standing behind my car in conversation. My friend saw this in the rear-view mirror and wasted no time exclaiming, “No! We are not opening the trunk!” 

When I arrived home that night my husband informed me that, with the bigger tires on the car, that my speedometer is five miles faster than it says. I just said, “Oh really.” 

That young officer — while we were stopped — said, “I like to help people.” He certainly didn't have to dive in the back seat after a bee — which we later nabbed, and it turns out to have been some kind of flying ant — and he could have ticketed me for speeding. He showed us a lot of grace.  

Who knows — maybe he has a soft spot for his own grandma. 

Carol Shirk Knapp writes the "Preacher's Kid" column.