Originally posted in an "emergency" group.

One of the banes of being a cop is working on holidays.  Some years
ago,
as a young cop, I worked the 4pm to 12pm shift on Christmas eve.  I
drove around most of the night feeling sorry for myself.

At around 10pm, I was called to the home of a terminally ill man.  He
was an old man, dying of cancer and had very little time.  He had asked

his wife to call the police.  When I got to his bedroom, he motioned me

to his bedside.  He said nothing.  I asked his wife why she called the
police. She just shrugged and motioned toward her husband.

Then I saw the picture on their dresser.  A young man, unmistakably the

dying man, in a police uniform.  I knew why I was there.  I sat down by

his bed and he took my hand and smiled.  Soon he died.

He had wanted to move from this world to the next with the protection
of
a fellow cop.  That night I was given the honor of being his escort.  A

caring God had seen to it that one of his children was delivered safely

to Him. I left his house a little later and finished my tour.  It was
cold, but I was warm.  And when I went home that night, I felt I had
been given a most precious gift.  And since that day, I've alway's
considered it an honor to share another human beings final moment in
this world.

I have never again felt sorry for myself for having to work on
Christmas
eve.  And when I leave this world, I pray there's a cop with me to hold

my hand and let me know I have nothing to fear.
  Sgt. Stan Kid, Long Island PD

 Merry Christmas to all from our house to yours.  May the New
Year be the best ever and above all, "Let's be careful out there".