A Journal Entry from 2010

February 23, 2010

       I must write this before I forget. Matt had a court date today. I took off to go with him. Prayer has been sent up for this manchild for years but especially since the incidences of January 9, 2010. I have had a peace all along about his defense attorney. I knew he could not afford one and Joe and I did not have the money to pay for one, so he would be at the mercy of the court system. After listening to the message on Sunday I was more convinced than ever that God would work this out.

       Matt entered the court room and took a seat on the back row which is where the people go who do not have paid representation. He waited his turn and eased down the bench toward the magistrate who would assign an  attorney to the accused. I eased my way in and sat beside him.

     As he inched toward the woman who held his future in her hands, I still had a peace.  When it was his turn I could hear him whisper the details of his charges to the woman.  Apparently there had  been a mixup in the dates. This case had been grouped with the other robbery and possession charges. He explained how he had hoped to get this particular case dismissed. She said it would be in his best interest if one attorney handled all the cases and she would assign an attorney to him today. She commented about the seriousness of his charges and said she knew just the attorney he needed.

          As she was talking to Matt, an older, seasoned gentleman entered the courtroom. She immediately introduced him to Matt. She explained that these were some serious charges, to which the lawyer replied, "You know me, I handle serious cases all the time." He gave Matt his card and told him to call and set up an appointment.

         While Matt was signing the papers, I had a quick chance to ask the magistrate if he was a good attorney. Before I could explain she said, "You can pay all you want, but you will never find a better attorney. He is the best."  I asured her she was an answer to prayer and thanked her for the assignment.

          As we were leaving, we met her once again at the elevators. This time she introduced herself as Paula. She asked Matt to call her and make sure all the cases were together. I reminded her that she was an answer to prayer. I felt a wonderful moment of hope when she said, " I'll see you in court. We've got to get this boy straightened out."

        I don't know anything about the attorney, but just the fact that the magistrate would make a comment made me feel blessed. I could see God at work in that court room, with the magistrate and with the attorney. Joe said not to get too excited, keep an even keel, but he was not there to witness God at work. If I see glory,  I'm going to shout. Praise the Lord.

Another post by Joe

Whenever I talk to someone about my son in Federal Prison, I will usually end the conversation by saying, “I wouldn’t wish this on my worst enemy.”  This isn’t a pandering statement or a cliché - it comes from the heart. I feel for anyone who has suffered through a loved one's addiction.  The pain, embarrassment, and humiliation cannot be put into words.  In our case, it was exacerbated when Matt was shot and then arrested. Trying to function was like trying to walk thru a vat of wet concrete.  Every step required an effort.  People went out of their way to avoid us.  In the grocery store I actually saw someone I knew turn and walk in the opposite direction.  I don’t think they were being cruel, I just think they didn’t know what to say.  Conversely, the comments section on AL.com gave a lot of mindless people a chance to say some incredibly hurtful things about my son.  (Sometimes I wonder how the internet would look if we had to use our actual name and address when we posted on forums). One of the most difficult things I faced was trying to explain to my relatives why this happened.  They could not comprehend it.  Honestly, neither could I.  

The one place of refuge we had was our church.  It was especially comforting to be with people who were (and are) supportive, empathetic, and non judgmental.   I’m still amazed that the day after Matt was shot and arrested an impromptu prayer service was attended by at least 2/3 of our congregation.

You may not face addiction or imprisonment of a loved one, but I can promise you that you will face a crisis in your life.  Without question, my one piece of advice to anyone in this situation is to lean on your church family, and if you don't have one, get one.  I'm sure people survive life crises without prayer, unconditional acceptance, and spiritual support, but I for one wouldn't want to. 

Testing Positive

I would have thought that metal detectors were enough to stifle illegal activity on a visit to a federal prison, but was I wrong! After the embarrassment of having to remove my under wires, I found myself once again being questioned by the authorities. This time I was asked to show my right pocket to the officer who waved a small wand over my hip area. I knew something was wrong when the machine it was attached to began printing a long strip of paper. I was asked to sit in an area that was away from the other awaiting visitors.

              Normally, we are scanned and taken back in small groups of 4 or 5. We go through several checkpoints where doors are closed behind us before others are opened. My son and husband had already been taken back while I had been delayed by the metal detector. When I was separated from the group, I knew there were complications.

               The female guard informed me that I had tested positive for a substance used to make illegal drugs. My reaction was one of shock and disbelief. I was calm on the outside but on the inside I was screaming my thoughts:   "What! No way! I have a son in prison because of drugs! I HATE drugs! Why is this happening! I just want to hug my son!"

              Inside the prison, my husband was not so calm! He was screaming on the outside! He had no idea what was happening except he now had to visit his son behind glass with only 2 visitors at a time!

              I waited in the waiting room until my son came out so I could go in. I had plenty of time to think and pray. I still do not know why all the bad things happened to me that day, but I do know Who was in charge. It was a test of my character, a completion of the verse I was reminded of with the metal detectors: Romans 5: 3-4

                     "And not only this, but we also exult in our 

                      tribulations, knowing that tribulation brings about 

                      perseverance; and perseverance, proven character;

                      and proven character, hope"

            When my son came out of his visit, I could see his puzzled look through the glass even before he entered the room. I couldn't control my emotions as I blurted out, “I tested positive for ecstasy!" After a good cry, I was able to laugh right along with all the other visitors in the waiting room!  Finally, with lessons learned for future visits, I was able to have a pleasant visit with my son even with the glass between us.

Matt Gets Money

Keeping a journal is not only therapeutic, it helps me remember things I most likely want to forget.  I  must admit I am not very good at it, maybe once a week if I am lucky. But even with that infrequency, I can still recall my emotions and reactions at the specific time of the entry. It’s a great way to look back and see God’s glory even through the darkest of situations.  In this simple journal entry from last year, I can still see promise and hope.

Aug. 5, 2013 Matt gets money

     Today I sent money to Matt. I had to send it to a fellow inmate because he is on restrictions. I would've have been hesitant several months ago but I understand the process now. The inmates have a network of friends that help them in certain situations.  Matt was caught holding contraband, just cigarettes, but still contraband.  The guard who caught him gave him one year without phone, visits or privileges in the commissary. The punishment was excessive and he has appealed. The appeal process takes a long time as well.

        I usually send money to someone outside the prison, or maybe to another inmate account. This money is used to purchase stamps. Stamps is the type of currency within the prison system. Inmates use stamps to purchase things that can't be bought through the commissary-- like moving up in the dental line or fresh fruit from the kitchen. I was skeptical at first, but I realized this is survival behind the walls.

       Matt is beginning to see how much support he has from his family. Some of the guys in there have no one - not a mom or sister or child -- no one. I pray for Matt every day and I think about him often.  It's a high price to pay for his actions, but only by the Grace of the good Lord is he there today. He could have been dead numerous times.  I hope I live to see what God has in store for the rest of his life.  

Another Perspective

This blog entry is written by my husband, Joe. I thought it might be interesting to have another perspective, since the entire family is affected by the actions of my son.

For almost 20 years I have talked with counselors, rehab clinics, group therapists, clergy, and law enforcement officials trying to help my son. Interestingly, all of the experts agree on a universal truth about drug addiction: there are only three possible outcomes.   No matter which path you or yours chooses, addiction leads to only three destinations.  You will clean up, you will go to prison, or you will die.  This is an absolute truth.  So in my daily prayers to God, I ask Him to steer my son to the best option:  sobriety.  Because he has been involved with the other two outcomes - he’s is in prison now, and nearly died before he got there.

Many people don’t know the entire story. Here goes:

On January 9, 2010   The phone rang at 11:45 PM.  Over the years, we have been conditioned to expect the worse from a late night call, but could not even imagine the horrors this one held. It was a nurse from UAB Medical Center telling us my son Matt had been shot at close range during a home invasion.  She told us our son was conscious; we even talked to him briefly.  He asked us to go to his house and lock the door before we came to the hospital. 

Nothing could prepare us for what we saw as I turned into his driveway. It was surreal.  A half dozen police cars parked in the front yard.  Blue lights flashing.  Yellow crime scene tape.  Detectives everywhere.  It looked like they were filming a crime movie,  Stunned, we just sat there staring.   Carol was unable to even get out of the car.  When I finally opened the door I was  approached by a detective. 

Without any specifics, he told  me my son was involved with some bad people and was in over his head.   Later I learned that as the police combed the home for clues to the attempted murder, they found evidence linking my son to two drug store robberies.  He didn’t take any money,  just prescription pain relievers.  Apparently word got out on the street that my son had made a large “score”.  So whoever came in the house was going to take the drugs and kill him.  He nearly succeeded.  The shooter had an AK 47 assault rifle pointed at his head.  The shooter was so close that my son grabbed the gun barrel as he was squeezing the trigger.  Instead of killing him instantly, the shot went thru his arm, shattered a bone, and then punctured his lung twice.  The surgeon informed us that from point blank range the velocity of the bullet was so great that if it hit him anywhere in the upper part of his body, the shock wave would have been fatal.   

I retrospect, I believe God took over on this January night.  It’s almost like He said to us, ”OK, you have been dealing with this for 20 years.  Enough!  I’m taking over from here. I will let our son face death.  I will imprison him. I will get his attention.”

Is it so different from Paul?  Paul was struck down, blinded.  He never knew if he would see again.  He had time to reflect.  God got his attention and his life was changed.   My hope is that the same thing is true of my son.  I believe the Lord has spared my son for a reason.  My prayer is that He uses him and his story as an instrument to help rescue others on the path to destruction. 

Whom Shall I Fear?

         Those who know me know I do not like surprises.  I used to secretly unwrap all my Christmas presents. But life with an addict is always uncertain, always a surprise. In a way, living with a drug addict is like playing with a jack-in-a-box. You know he is going to jump out at the end of the song, you're just not sure which turn of the crank will be the last one.  My son would be positive and pleasant for a few weeks. He might even work a job and carry on normal actives. We would even start thinking that he was heading in the right direction and then... Surprise! Out comes the jack-in-the-box!

         We never knew when or where it might happen. Once we were having dinner with friends, when the phone rang during desert. I knew there was trouble even before the host handed me the receiver. The crank had been turning. Another arrest and the mood switched from silly to somber in seconds.

               After several surprises, we learned never to let our guard down. I always watched and waited for the surprise. Sometimes they came with a little forewarning, kind of like a premonition or feeling. Once when my youngest son was playing an important football game his senior year, I noticed paramedics scanning the crowd. I knew they were looking for me even before they approached my seat. My grandmother had called 911 after my son had attempted to take his own life. He had run into the woods behind our house, bleeding profusely, and the authorities needed to notify us.

               All the surprises were controlling my life. I was living from surprise to surprise.  I was becoming afraid of the jack-in-the-box. I knew I hated the surprises, but they were consuming my thoughts. They were directing my actions.

               It was in the middle of a Bible study on strongholds that I felt a nudge from the Holy Spirit. The author defined a stronghold as anything that keeps us from being what God wants us to be.  I had checked off my list each week – no addiction, no insecurity, no obsessions. It was about the fourth week that I opened my lesson and there on the page was my stronghold—FEAR. Those surprises had become a stronghold because they represented my fear of the uncertainty of what might happen next. I was afraid and I needed help.

           Through my study I learned a lot about my stronghold. I began to see fear as the opposite of faith. I finally learned to cope with the surprises by letting go of the fear. It was not an easy task and I could not have done it without the help of the Holy Spirit. I found Bible verses that reassured my faith, like Psalms 23:4,” Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil, for you are with me; your rod and your staff, they comfort me,” and Isaiah 41: 10 “So do not fear, for I am with you; do not be dismayed, for I am your God.”  But perhaps the best one was a verse that used the word stronghold in the interpretation that I read:

Psalms 27: 1 (NIV) The LORD is my light and my salvation-- whom shall I fear? The LORD is the stronghold of my life-- of whom shall I be afraid?

               Controlling my fear impulse is a daily struggle, any stronghold is. I read somewhere that the Bible say "fear not" some 350 times. God must have wanted us to listen if he mentioned it that many times. That is almost one for every day of the year. Coincidence? I think not.

A Visit to Jail

             Visiting jail is not like visiting prison. Yes, both are correctional facilities but, prison is serious stuff. A visit to the jail is usually one night a week for 2 hours at the most. There are long lines of anxious people following written and unwritten protocol. Sign a form, show your driver's license and wait and wait and wait. When you are called back, you get to visit through a glass divider. Some jails have a phone to communicate with the inmate. I always wanted to wipe it down with Clorox wipes, but you can't take anything back with you. So you talk and you smile and blow kisses, but you can't touch.

             Occasionally, you meet a guard who enjoys his job. Those are rare. Most appear in a bad mood. Maybe it's a way to tune out the sadness. If I were a guard I would feel sorry for every person that walked in to visit. I really do now that I know what most are going through.
             No one ever told me what to expect. It is bad enough facing the consequences of what your loved one has done, but there is so much added stress in not knowing what to plan for at a visit. It takes courage to ask complete strangers where to sign in or where to sit. I once got reprimanded by another visitor because I unknowingly broke in line. Evidently there was a certain seating order and I sat down ahead of my turn. I just wanted to rest my knees.
               Being a woman of faith has helped me keep a positive attitude amid all the frustration.  I chose to see the positive in people. I chose to see God at work in even the direst situations. I chose to smile.
                When you are going through the experience, it is hard to imagine not being immersed in the culture. Some never get to escape. I remember waiting for a visit at the Cullman jail. In the lobby were several children playing as best they could while they waited to see their loved one. I overheard one say, "now you be the Warden." How sad for such young lives to even have that knowledge at such an innocent age.
                I hope my story can bring words of encouragement to someone who is dealing with the court system right now.  Maybe you have a relative in jail, maybe it's you. Whatever the circumstances, there is a light at the end of the tunnel - and it's not a train. Stay the course, keep the faith and The Lord will see you through the gale of the storm. It could always be worse. It could be prison.