Fair Warning: This is going to be a LONG post. I've got a story to tell and it'll require going back a bit, to something I debated posting here, and never did.
A year after our divorce was finalized, my ex-husband was convicted just before Christmas 2009 on charges of possession of child pornography. The drama of our separation and subsequent divorce was finally over, I thought, but I also thought I would never be able to forgive him. After a little while, I decided to write to him. I felt compassion enough that I didn't want him to think I hated him, or that he'd been locked away & forgotten. I got his address from our friend Taylor, who we knew from church. That was in January, because I told him about all the snow we had, and how Harding & Abby (our/my cats) reacted to it. He wrote back a couple of weeks later, and I think I might have written once more between that time and April.
Sometime in February, I think, Taylor made an announcement at church that caught me completely off-guard. I was sitting with him & his family (wife, Elizabeth, and their four kids) and he got up to announce that Mike's lawyer was collecting letters to petition the judge overseeing Mike's case for leniency. I wasn't expecting anything like that that day, and I'm still not sure why it shook me up the way it did, but I remember that I wound up sobbing. I thought about it the rest of the service, and at the end, I asked Taylor for the instruction sheet for writing the letters. I said I didn't know if I would...if I'd even be ABLE, but I wanted to know how just in case. I debated with myself for weeks, and finally about a month later, sat down to write. Mike's letters told me that he was doing better; told me that when the spotlight was thrown onto the secret he'd hidden for so long, it had released him from its grasp. I asked the judge to be merciful...not to ignore the crime, but to rule to help Mike rather than just punish him. I said at the beginning that I knew it might seem strange that I, who divorced him over the whole matter, would advocate for him. The letter went on to ask that his sentence not be harsh, but that it include some form of counseling or therapy. I said I was confident that he would be a better man from then on.
Writing that letter was done as much for myself as for Mike. It was a conscious decision to forgive him. Every word was sincere, but after writing it, I woke each morning and had to decide over and over again to forgive him. Most days, I was able to, though some days still presented a struggle, but it got easier.
March and April presented me with another decision. I hadn't witnessed any of the legal proceedings in dealing with all of this, aside from our divorce hearing. I hadn't been questioned in relation to anything. I didn't see the men who came to confiscate Mike's computer. I saw their car, only by accident, but I never saw them. When his sentencing date came up, I asked Taylor if it was something I could attend if I wanted to. He said yes, and that he was going, too, so I could ride with him if I decided to go. Again, I deliberated for a while...probably about a month...and when it got down to a couple of days before the sentencing, I decided to go. I called Taylor and said I was in, and he said that there were some others from Covenant going as well, and we made arrangements to carpool to Little Rock. I felt like I needed to see it for myself. I'd known all along what was happening, but I hadn't seen it and that made it feel surreal; like a bad dream. I needed to make it real so I could move past it.
I met up with the group the morning of the sentencing (April 16, 2010). Taylor & Elizabeth knew I was coming, but I don't think any of the others did. Some of them didn't know me...they were friends Mike had made after we parted & I'd never met them. As it turned out, two of these strangers were among my traveling companions that day. Taylor drove his SUV, Wayne rode in front with him, Elizabeth & her boys rode in the back, and I was in the middle with two people I didn't know. I've become friends with one of them since...his name is Mat. I was really quiet on the ride out there...just kind of staring out the window. Elizabeth reached forward & asked if I was alright, and I said yes, and that I was just processing & trying to keep my nerves under control. Mat asked why I was nervous, and he and the girl on the other side of him sort of recoiled in shock when I told them I was Mike's ex-wife. It was actually pretty funny to see their faces.
When we got to the courthouse in Little Rock, I think the security guards were surprised to see a group of about twenty people coming in the door. It really was an incredible showing of support for Mike. I met Chris, Mike's lawyer, in the lobby. He seemed like a very nice man. There was another sentencing ahead of Mike's...a woman...and it was the same judge. It was clear to me that this man was pretty much by-the-book. It was also clear to me that the prosecuting attorney was young and cocky. He walked into the courtroom like he was king. I thought that they were going to throw the book at Mike when his turn came. I was glad that we were there for the hearing preceding Mike's...I thought it would prepare me for his. But I was very wrong. The judge didn't read the details of her offenses...just the charges & his ruling, followed by his sentence for her. I don't remember either lawyer speaking...they were just there, and it was over very quickly.
When Mike was brought into the room, he was in a bright orange jumpsuit and ankle shackles and I believe handcuffs, though the handcuffs were removed shortly after they brought him into the room. I hadn't expected that...I guess I thought he'd be in street clothes, or even dressed up, so it was a shock to see him that way. His hair was buzzed short, and it was clear that he'd been working out a lot, because he looked pretty buff. My totally erratic mind's first thought was "Oh my GOSH he looks good!", to which the other part of my brain thought "What?! You can't think that way about him. Not anymore." The tugging at my heart had begun.
Mike slowly scanned the room upon realizing that there were people there to support him. Because of where I was sitting, I was one of the last that he saw, and at first, his eyes sort of skipped over me, it seemed. It was like he saw me without recognizing me. But then it seemed to click with him and he came back to me and I could see something between surprise, confusion, and maybe fear in his eyes. I hadn't told him I'd written to the judge, so he had no idea what my purpose in being there was. I gave him a little smile, though, and I saw his eyes swell with tears and he swallowed hard & smiled back at me. He then started back at the beginning and smiled individually at everyone present and kept patting his heart with his hand in a gesture of thanks.
When the judge came in, he read ALL of the charges. Up to that point, I knew the charges, but not the specifics, and I hadn't heard what had been found on the confiscated computer. The numbers terrified me and I just closed my eyes and ears after hearing the numbers and started praying. I prayed that I wouldn't hate him, and I prayed it over and over and over again and wouldn't let myself cry. That moment passed and when I looked up at Mike, I felt all the anger I felt toward him dissipate, and it hasn't returned. I've had recurrences of anger at what happened, but none that were directed at Mike. In that moment, I went from *choosing* to forgive him, minute by minute, to finally forgiving him completely. I felt the change from human forgiveness to a divine forgiveness that I KNOW my God put in my heart...and it is a beautiful thing.
After the charges & findings were gone over, the judge allowed statements from people in the group. He said he normally doesn't allow that, but that given the showing that day, he would. Four or five men raised their hands when he asked who wanted to speak, and Taylor went up first, followed by his brother, Spencer, then Luke, then a guy I didn't know, named Dane. Taylor said he knew Mike from church, and that he was confident that Mike would ever after stay away from his addiction. Spencer said that he also knew Mike from church in Searcy, and the judge interrupted him, saying in his deep, slow Southern drawl, "I've spoken down in Searcy a time or two, but my family has been Methodist since the Crucifixion, and I don't know what y'all think about that." Most of us gave an uneasy laugh, but Spencer took it in stride and said "Well, sir, we're all one in Christ." The atmosphere in the room immediately shifted. The judge liked us. He knew we respected him. We knew he'd listen to us and maybe be lenient. Taylor's father-in-law, John, went up after that, and then a doctor Mike knew from after we split. That was a neat testimony, too...the judge asked him if he was a medical doctor, and he said yes, and then the judge said "I'd like to have your opinion as a medical professional. What would you recommend to treat this man?" The doctor said "It's a pretty controversial opinion, sir." The judge interjected with "I know it's controversial. I want your opinion!" (he was smiling as he said it) and the doctor said "I believe that Jesus Christ is the only Healer, and that Michael won't be healed without Him." And this by-the-book federal judge smiled and genuinely thanked him! Wayne spoke after that, and then, he was coming back to sit down, the judge asked if anyone else wanted to speak.
I found myself on my feet before I realized what I was doing. A second later, I DID realize what I was doing, and thought, "Oh, God...what AM I doing??" and then figured it was too late to sit back down, so I went forward. I am NOT a public speaker...my hands sweat, my voice goes quiet, and my speech speeds up. Mike, who was standing at a podium facing the judge, didn't see me coming, but when he looked to see who was standing beside him, I saw the same surprise/confusion/fear in his face as when he walked into the courtroom & saw me. Naturally, I had no idea what to say, since I hadn't planned to speak (I hadn't even thought there would be opportunity, and wouldn't have thought ahead of time to take it anyway). So I introduced myself to the judge, as the others had done, and his response was "Yes, ma'am, I read your letter with *considerable* interest." I mumbled "Thank you" and glanced over at Mike, and saw tears in his eyes again. I asked the judge for mercy for Mike. I said that I firmly believed that he would never have acted on his sickness; that I knew he would be a better man on the other side. At least, that's what I *wanted* to say. I got really emotional pretty quickly and am not convinced that anyone understood a word of what I said. When I got to the point where it was clear that my speech had become unintelligible due to the lump in my throat and my nerves, I said "Thank you" to the judge and I think gave some strange little curtsy (the image of that in my head is rather comical, really) and then I laid a hand on Mike's arm before making a bee-line for my seat. I didn't look at anybody...just the floor and my seat, and then I sat down VERY quickly & just sort of stared at the judge, who then gave Mike a chance to speak for himself. Mike said, "I ask for NO leniency. I just want to make something good out of what I did and make the world better." My heart swelled with pride for him in that moment. Then, the cocky prosecutor stood to speak, and each of us was entirely blown away. He was choked up! His voice was strained and his eyes were watery. He said he hated to ask for any punitive action. Most of the time, the people he sees in court for Mike's particular offenses are "dirty old men", but it was clear to him that Mike did not fall in that category. The sentence he asked for, because of that, was entirely for the sake of providing the mental rehabilitation that might not have been available outside of the court system.
The judge gave his sentence then, but not before saying that "we need[ed] King Solomon to come handle this case." He looked at his notes & papers for a minute, and then gave Mike five years in prison, then another five years of house arrest, and of course he'll be registered the rest of his life. We'd been told that the guidelines for Mike's conviction were 7-12 years in prison, and were all sort of prepared to hear something like that, so we were thrilled that he'd given Mike a lesser sentence.
Mike was led out of the room then, and the judge left, and the rest of us filed out of the courtroom. We stood just outside the courtroom for a little while, just processing it before trying to talk about what to do next. While we were standing out there, one of the court officials came out into the hallway and got Taylor's attention. He pulled him to the side, near me, and asked "Sir, do you know what y'all just did?" Taylor looked a little confused, but he smiled, and the man said "That judge (who was probably in his 70s) has NEVER gone below the guidelines. In fact, he usually sticks to the high end! You people just cut that man's sentence in HALF." He patted Taylor on the shoulder and then went back into the courtroom. Taylor grinned from ear to ear, and I finally just broke down in tears. Happy tears, but the emotion of the day finally all caught up with me. As the group started for the elevators to leave the courthouse, Elizabeth held back a little and walked with me. She held my hand and didn't say anything, which was perfect, and I realized again what incredible friends my God blessed me with.
I went into the bathroom to compose myself before leaving the building, and then we all went to lunch and celebrated. It had been a very emotional, but very beautiful, morning, and one I'm not likely to forget.
The next day, I found myself in the awkward position of being the one to tell Mike's mom how it had gone. I thought someone else would have called her already, but apparently I was the first. I called with the intent of finding out how she'd taken it all, but found that she had no idea what the outcome had been, so I related the whole story of the day to her, and listened while she blamed herself for the things he'd done to get there in the first place. I tried to soothe her and let her know that she couldn't afford to blame herself, and I just tried to be a comfort to her. It was the first time we'd spoken in a long time, so, as difficult as it was, it was nice.
Since that day, Mike and I have written a few letters to each other. I never wanted him to feel forgotten or abandoned. I know he needs good friends on the outside of the prison walls, so he'll know he has a good place to go when he leaves them. He needs to know that he'll have a support group and people to surround him and love him when a lot of the world will have a hard time with that. I decided one day that I might want to visit him at some point, so I asked Taylor how to go about doing that, should I ever decide to go. He said there was a form to fill out, and that he'd get Elizabeth to send me a copy of it. When she sent it, I filled it out and mailed it back on the very same day. I wanted to get the process started quickly, so that when and if the urge to visit struck me, I'd be able to go, according to the law.
His most recent letter worried me, though Daddy and Taylor both said that they thought he was just describing his surroundings and that he himself sounded fine. Nonetheless, I was worried, so I called Taylor and told him that I wanted to see Mike, but not alone. I didn't know the process of getting into the prison, and the whole idea was rather intimidating. I asked Taylor to take me, at least the first time, and he agreed.
I'd actually really wanted to go on Labor Day, since I had an extra day off from work, but Taylor had to be out of town. Instead, we went on Sunday, September 12. I think now that I've been through the process, I'll feel alright going on my own next time, but I just really didn't want to try to get into a federal prison by myself. He picked me up at 6 :30 in the morning... and if you know me at all, you know I'm NOT a morning person. I had to get up at 5, haha! Taylor had told me not to wear orange or khaki (which I don't anyway) and other than that, to dress like I would to go through airport security. I wore a cute top & jeans & flip flops, and we drove an hour and a half to the prison.
It LOOKED like a prison...middle of nowhere, nothin' else around except for the next level security prison campus across a field. Concrete block & fences with the curly barbed wire at the top...a total cliché. It really is like you see on television. When I told Josh about it the other day, he said it made him think of "The Shawshank Redemption", and I laughed, because I'd just watched it the night before with David & Angela. Probably not the best idea I've ever had, but it's a great movie! Anyway...I've driven by prisons before, but actually walking up to one is SO intimidating!
After the crazy early morning & long drive, Taylor and I walked in and the guard at the door looked Taylor over, then me, then looked back at Taylor & said very matter-of-factly, "She can't come in." Taylor looked at her and asked why, and she said, "No open toed shoes. I can't let her in." Gah! Taylor went white, looked at me, and threw his hands up in that "I don't know!" position & said "I had NO IDEA." He asked the guard if we could go on & fill out the admission form, and we'd go back out to his car to see if his wife happened to have any shoes out there. She gave us the forms (they're numbered & they take you in batches, so we wanted to be as early in the numbers as possible.) We went to his car, but had no luck finding shoes. There was another guard in the parking lot, just coming on or off her shift, and he asked her where we could go to get an allowable pair of shoes. She told us how to get to a Walmart, and naturally, none of the $5 flats had my size in stock. The $5 ones were ugly anyway. Taylor felt so bad for not knowing about that rule that he bought the shoes for me. I tried not to let him but he insisted. We headed back to the prison, and I filled out my admission form in the car on the way. Taylor did his once we got in, and we turned them in at the desk with our IDs. A minute later, they called my name over the loud speaker, so I went back to the desk. The woman there said, "You can't use blue ink." (Why didn't she say that when I handed it to her in the first place? and it wasn't written on the form anywhere.) I had to re-do that, but she was nice and gave me the same number. I turned it in again & went back to sit down with Taylor, and as soon as my derriere hit the chair, they called me again. They had to take my picture that time...I don't know why.
I went back to the visitor's room (but didn't bother sitting down that time, just in case) and the guard came in a couple minutes later to get everybody. We went through a metal detector, just like at an airport...shoes & jewelry went into a bucket to be x-rayed, and we walked through the detector gate. It went off on me. They sent me through again, and it went off again, so they sent me through a third time. It went off again! The guard asked if there was an underwire in my bra, and I said yes. She said that's probably what it was, but she'd have to wand me. Yikes! She took me into a side room and had me stand spread-eagle, and she passed the wand over me. It didn't go off at my chest...it went off at my crotch. My only guess is that it was the zipper on my jeans...but oh my GOSH I panicked! I thought they were going to strip search me or something! She didn't, thank goodness. I suppose she assumed the same thing I did about it and didn't pursue it further. Taylor had a slightly worried look on his face when I came back out of the room, but he got a good laugh out of it when I told him what happened.
A guard then stamped our hands with an invisible/ultraviolet stamp, which we had to show to another guard like two feet away, within eyesight of the one who stamped us, and they took us through a locked door. We were cloistered in this tiny little room until they closed the first door and opened a second, and you know that LOUD buzzer that goes off on tv when they open gates & doors in prisons? Well, it's even louder. We got through the second door and went outside into the yard, and up to another building, where another guard checked our clothes before letting us in. Another guard inside that door checked our hands for the stamps, and THEN they called the inmates.
This is a LOW security prison! I can't imagine what the process would be for a maximum! Once we were in, though, it was really laid back...just a big open room with chairs & coffee tables...the cheap lawn furniture type...and vending machines. The inmates couldn't go to the vending machines, but the visitors could get stuff for them, which was nice, since it's stuff they don't normally get. We got Mike the first Dr Pepper he'd had in 10 months. We just sat & talked. We stayed for two & a half hours, and Taylor found lots of convenient excuses to leave Mike and I on our own, so I had a good bit of time to talk one-on-one with him.
I guess I'd read a tone into that letter that wasn't actually there, because he's doing REALLY well! He was a little nervous to see me (Taylor said that, not me) but generally, he was more relaxed than I've ever seen him. He was always really tense...you could see it in his shoulders. I had literally NEVER seen him with his shoulders relaxed until that Sunday. It really was amazing! Most people that knew him before have been kinda shocked when I said he was so at ease, but it's like having that horrible secret brought to light just totally relieved him. He's not bearing the weight of it anymore. He talked a lot about how free he actually feels, because he's not covering up this terrible thing in his life now...and he's especially not hiding it from himself. There was not even a HINT of the darkness in his face that I used to see...not a hint.
I think I hugged him a dozen times that day...not that that's surprising, coming from me! My heart has a lot to process, though. The man I saw that day was the man I *thought* I married. My logical brain knows I can't afford to go back to him. It'd kill so many of my dreams...but my heart is just kind of exploding. I'm proud of the progress he's made. I'm thrilled at the faith he's exhibited in this, and the change I've seen in him. I KNOW that Jesus, The Healer, has worked in him.
I loved being able, at long last, to look him in the eyes and tell him that I've forgiven him. That I'm not angry at him anymore. I loved telling him about the moment that all of that negativity was washed out of me. I can only imagine what the lifting of HIS burden must have felt like, because I know his was much greater than mine. He wants to help people as a result of his experiences. He wants to help those with addictions like his to break free of the prisons they create for themselves, so that they can experience the freedom found only in a closer walk with God. He's going to be an inspiration to a lot of people...he already is to me. We're going to be friends for the rest of our lives. I'm confident about that...and I can't wait to see where his life takes him and the lives that God can change working through him.
I'm not trying to preach, but forgiveness is such an incredibly beautiful thing. It is beautiful for the recipient, but for the giver as well. It is perhaps even more beautiful for the giver, since sometimes the recipient never even knows. Having given up the burden of anger and hurt, there is a lightness and feeling of freedom in my own heart and soul and that has allowed me to smile and laugh again in a way that I thought might never happen again. There is a block of time several months long from the beginning of all of this that is nothing more than a blur. I remember a few specific things, but if you were to ask me about Christmas that year, I would describe pictures that my dad took...not memories. I didn't start experiencing my own life again until sometime the following Spring. But now...I have hope again. I can love again. I can laugh again...and I can even love and laugh with Mike again. I can't see myself ever being his wife again, but I do and will consider him a friend.
If you read all of that, thank you. I hope it somehow enriches you and inspires you. I wrote it all down because I don't want to forget it, ever. I hope it all makes sense. I didn't write it to say "Oh, look at me, look how good I am..." because I'm not. I know that God worked in me to allow my fallible human heart to experience the divine, and I truly hope that you can experience that miracle, too. It is a mere glimpse, I think, of the wonder of God's grace.
I hope you'll keep praying for Mike, that God will continue to use him to shine a light into the darkness around him. Pray that God will protect him when he starts opening up to the people around him about what he's done. Pray that he holds on to the Rock of Salvation when his body leaves the prison and goes back out into a world where he'll face temptation again. And pray for me, that I never forget or take for granted The God who led me through everything, or the family and friends who incarnated that same God in my life when I couldn't see Him myself.
**Quick Edit**
In spite of the time stamp, I posted this on Tuesday, September 21...it took FOUR DAYS to get it all out! :-)
