Interesting experience today.

Jan and I were really tired of trying to pack things and decided (I know it is silly when we are in disposal mode) to go around to a bunch of the local yard sales this morning. When we were through, we contacted our carpenter son (who is doing touchups on the new house) to join us for breakfast at Shoney's. (Our Shoney's had the most wonderful biscuits and gravy, and their "Sunrise Special" has been a long time Saturday habit with Jan and me. It is our one great adventure with carbs and calories each week.) We ate and talked, and killed a couple of hours, so that, about noon we arrived home. As we were entering the house I looked over at the pick-up truck that second son had left at our house for our use, and there was a lady sitting in the truck.

I went over and asked her what she was doing there and she asked, in reply, when our house had caught fire, and if there was a great problem putting it out. Stating that our house had not been on fire, and that she was sitting in my son's pickup, she "picked up" several things, including sunglasses, a tripod, some exercise bars, handed them to me to hold and stepped out of the truck, putting out her hand to receive the things she had handed me. I knew that they belonged to second son, so I didn't give them to her, to which she indignantly replied that Mr. McMillan had given them to her. As I was explaining that I knew no Mr. McMillan, I noticed a series of three hospital bracelets on her arm. One of them gave her name and labeled her as a patient at the Georgia Regional Hospital.

As she was telling me that she needed my car to go to the mall, my son called the police and explained that we had a lady at our house who was completely disoriented and had hospital bracelets on her arm. They replied that they knew her well, that she had checked herself out of the Mental Hospital a few days ago against doctors recommendations (How any one totally disoriented could check herself out of anywhere is beyond me) but they would be along to pick her up. Ten minutes later, when they hadn't come, but we had invited her up on the porch out of the rain, she exclaimed "I have to go to the bathroom", turned, walked into our house and went directly to the bathroom. (We hadn't locked the door when we left) demonstrating that she had been in the house already. She then picked up an empty cardboard box and left, walking out to and down the street. We doubted that we had the right to restrain her so we just called the cops again and told them what way she had gone. (Obviously they were in no hurry). They just said that they would find her, and, after locking the doors securely, we went on to move stuff to the new house. The refrain that kept haunting me for much of the rest of the day was Jesus' statement "As you have done it unto one of the least of these, my children, you have done it unto me." And I wondered what else I could have legally done.