From: Miracles and Mercy by Carol Hobby
I am a big picture type of person, meaning I see the main idea and usually where it leads but I do not like details. For that reason, it is hard for me to remember everything that went on in my addict’s life for over 15 years. Considering the fact that I would rather forget most of the bad things that happened along the way, it has been hard for me to recall many of the reasons why Matt was arrested or why he was sent to rehab in the first place.
I remember several arrests because of the circumstances around them. I was facing a constant battle over what to do with this wayward child, both inwardly and with his father. His father followed the usual “fight and flight” mode fueled by male testosterone whereas I was given that forgiving and nurturing instinct of Motherhood. I would be furious at first but then after my initial anger subsided, I would take a more objective look at the situation. Spiritually, I would feel like the Holy Spirit would be leading me in a different direction. I was growing each day in my faith, but life was HARD!
I remember one particular arrest because his dad refused to
go with me to bail him out. When the
bailiff called a second time, we told him we wanted to teach our son a lesson.
His response: “Ma’am, this is no place to teach a lesson. You better come get
him.” And I did. His dad went with me.
When there is a problem child in the family, nighttime is
not a peaceful time. Sleep is never restful. I would imagine that my Fitbit
would record very little deep sleep patterns had I had it during those years.
Each time the phone rang after midnight, my stomach would knot up and I would
feel nauseous. My throat would get tight as if I had swallowed an apple…
whole. After his first arrest, Matt had
chosen to live with my grandmother since he did not want to follow our rules.
Anyone who knew Mama, knew how much she loved Matt. She had allowed him to stay
with her because she “just couldn’t kick him out,” like she perceived we had.
Yet, each time there was an arrest, he called his dad and me. Mama was not in
good health and the nighttime drama was too much for her.
On one of the arrests, my mother and I had to bail Matt out
of the Birmingham City Jail. I remember
this arrest specifically because of the circumstances. I had been trying to
bring a particular Bible study to the ladies of my church. After several
attempts it was finally going to happen. The number of responses from those
planning on coming was growing and I was beginning to get excited about this
new venture. I knew I might need some help with the small group so I called my
friend and prayer partner, Polly to ask for her help. She, too, was excited but
she gave me a piece of advice that I still remember to this day. She said,
“Carol, don’t get too excited because between now and tomorrow afternoon the
Devil is going to try and destroy this study because he knows how much you want
to bring this to our ladies.” Her words proved so true.
I got the call around
2 in the morning. My mother went with me. We had no clue where we were going
and no GPS at that time. We looked up the address and headed out not even
thinking about what we needed to bail him out. This must have been one of the
first times, since I know now to bring my property tax record. After a trip
downtown we had to turn around and go home to get the tax card. I was stressing
out because I knew my Bible study started tomorrow and I wanted to be refreshed
and prepared. On our trip back home, my mother could sense my tension. She
didn’t say a word but started quietly singing church hymns. I couldn’t help but
join in and the next thing I remember, we were singing “Standing on the
Promises” even better than Andy Griffith. We had turned our troubles into
worship and we didn’t even realize it. My Bible study was a success and I
finally got some sleep on Sunday night.
The calls would come at the strangest places. Once at a
dinner party with friends, the phone rang and the hostess said “Carol, it’s for
you.” Puzzled, I grabbed the phone thinking it must be some kind of joke. It
wasn’t!! My grandmother called to tell me Matt had been arrested. Thank
goodness I was with friends who knew my troubles, or I would have been
mortified. We all had a good laugh and I continued on with the dinner. I knew
by this arrest that it would be an all-night experience, so I just carried on
as usual.
As faulty and inconsistent as I am at parenting, the court
system is even worse. They give chance after chance and still do not carry
through on their threats. I’m not saying that is a bad thing, it would just
have made things easier if I had known. I did not expect the system to be the
parents, but a little backup would help. I spent so many worrisome hours
thinking Matt would end up in prison for life because of the three strikes
rule, but that only applies to major offenses like murder, rape, armed robbery.
I kept thinking he would serve some time for his positive drug tests or his
missed appointments. He was fortunate that his arrests came in different
municipalities so they did not show up on every radar.
I also had those occasional Angel stories. One Friday before
a Sunday arrest, I received a phone call. The caller introduced himself and I
knew him as a baseball father to one of my youngest son’s friends. He said he
had been following Matt on the road and he was weaving so bad he thought he
might have fallen asleep. He managed to get Matt’s attention and got him to
pull over. When he realized it was Matt, he had the guy with him drive the car
back to Matt’s house where he called me. As soon as I got there, I realized
there was something bad wrong with Matt. He was incoherent and drowsy. He kept
falling asleep mid-sentence. I kept quiet but I suspected some kind of drug
use. I didn’t know what kind or what combination would produce this effect. We
all questioned him, but he said he had been awake all night and worked the day.
He assured us that he was just tired. He had a friend to stay with him in case
it was more. I thanked the dad for bringing Matt home safely.
I got the call on Sunday this time that Matt had been
arrested in the parking lot of a local convenience store. Inside his car were
pain pills and some prescription muscle relaxer. I knew then that those were
the pills he had taken on Friday. That dad had been Matt’s guardian angel
protecting him, an answer to a mother’s prayer for the safety of her child.
Those prayers for safety would become my cry to the Lord during his stay in a federal
prison.
Matt had been seeing a counselor and a support group, but
his life was about to change again in a different direction. With the mounting
arrests and the failed drug tests, he found himself facing some prison time. I
was brought up with a respect for the law. I was afraid of going to jail. I
remember going to parties in High School and even college and if people were
smoking pot, I wanted to leave. I thought if the cops came, I would be arrested
just for being there. That never happened but I was always aware that it could.
I thought I had taught my boys the same respect.
I don’t remember at what point it happened, but Matt was
offered the opportunity to attend a work camp in Tennessee in lieu of serving
time in a state prison. He agreed to go to this place called Miracle Lake. The
camp was a Christian based facility that worked closely with the Tennessee
Board of Prisons. It operated only on donations which sometimes came in at the
last moment, but they came in.
Miracle Lake was run at the time by a staunch Baptist
preacher and his wife, Eloise. His idea of rehab was hard work and Bible study.
They had chores at the camp and worked hard during the harvest in the fall. It was a 9-week program with strict
rules: no smoking, no television, not
even any carbonated drinks with caffeine. Jack taught the inmates the Bible so
intensely those nine weeks that he boasted at graduation that they now know
more about the Bible than 85% of the people in the world. I don’t know where he
got his facts, but I believed him. It would take Matt twelve weeks to finish
because he got caught smoking a cigarette and Jack sent him home on a bus for 2
weeks. That was an experience in itself because Jack sent him to Birmingham by
way of Nashville and several stops along the way. I guess he wanted Matt to
have time to think. He didn’t think at some point because he had his shoes
stolen in Nashville.
I was hopeful Matt would have an epiphany at Miracle Lake
since I had sent him on despite the bad news I received at the beginning of his
journey. Matt and his dad were just outside of Chattanooga on the way to Knoxville
and Miracle Lake when I received a phone call from my brother. He called to
inform me that he had found a check that Matt had forged on a joint account we
had from my dad’s estate. He had signed my name on a check for $5,000. I was
heart sick. I knew I would never get it back. It meant trouble for Matt if my
brother wanted to prosecute. How much more could I take, Lord? The three of us,
his dad, my brother and me, decided to send him on and pray for a miracle at
Miracle Lake. I repaid the account and considered it my contribution to rehab
since Miracle Lake was a blessing and free of charge.
I could sense at graduation that Matt had not changed, at
least not that I could tell. He was still anxious and so ready to get out of
there. We returned home with hope which was soon interrupted with another
arrest.
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