The Bishop and the Police Department

How do you know when it is time to be released as the bishop's family?

A couple of Sundays ago, I was trying to catch up on a bad night's sleep, and the phone rang in the early a.m. "This is the Police Department," I heard on the line, "and we are looking for your husband."
"Well, he's not here," I said.
"Do you own a Mercury Villager blue van with license plates"  . . . . the dispatcher asked.
"That sounds familiar," I said, a little concerned.
"Do you know where said car is at this moment?" she asked.
I had stayed up late to lock the doors after the teenager and pre-missionary were in. Would they had got up and took the car? The van with peeling paint and dents on every side?
"My husband had to have taken it to the church," I said, decisively.
Well, yes, it has been reported as abandoned overnight at the Green Oaks church."
At this point, I was struggling not to laugh, and relieved at the same time so I said, "Actually that van has been abandoned at the church for five and half years."  Finally I had the dispatcher surprised. I went on to say, "My husband is the bishop."
"Well, the people that reported it must not go to church, she replied.
I hung up the phone and laughed and decided it is time to be released when your car is reported abandoned at the church.

And the day came two weeks later. The announcement came at our daughter's opportunity to speak (aka farewell) before leaving on her mission to Poland! What a two weeks that was.

One last bit of irony: While my husband, now the ex-bishop, was giving his final testimony as bishop on the day of his release, the sign on the bishop's office with his name came unglued and slid to the floor. The second counselor saw it and gave it to him after the meeting.

It was time.