Chapter 1 The Runaway and Rehab

from: Miracles and Mercy by Carol Hobby

I don’t even know where to begin with this convoluted story called my life.  My only hope is that I have a strong faith in Jesus Christ that helps me make it through the day. Some people think the story of Job in the Bible is a myth, a legend, an untruth, but I can tell you that bad things happen to people who try their best to be upstanding, moral human beings. As a child, I feared the Lord, I feared my teachers, and I feared my parents. I must have missed parenting 101 because somewhere along the way I missed getting that message to my children. My boys are all grown men in age, but they skipped that lesson on how to be and act like an adult.

My middle son has managed to live on his own. And he is also the only one to live 4 years away from home during his college years. They were not the easiest years for him and he developed some annoying habits but for the most part he learned how to live off Ramen Noodles and do his own laundry. He has a mortgage and a car note and partially understands a budget.  He has refuted the theory of the middle child.

But my oldest…. I have been through hell with that one.  He was always the brightest child. In fact, he was chosen for an accelerated first grade/second grade split class because he could already read when he started school.  He could identify letters of the alphabet before he was a year old and started reading between 3 and 4 years old.  I did not do anything out of the ordinary to encourage his precociousness, except offer him flash cards and a Speak and Spell. His was yellow, not red like the one in ET. I read to him and rocked him nightly.

In 4-year-old kindergarten he was frequently in trouble. Once while sitting in the Principals office, he read a note on her desk. When she sat down, Matt asked if it was true that the class could bring a toy to school tomorrow. Surprised by his inquiry, she asked him who had told him that information. Matt said no one and pointed to the note. “It says right here: ‘Children may bring a toy from home to kindergarten tomorrow.’”  After our behavior discussion we both agreed that Matt was getting in trouble because he already knew how to read and the program did not challenge him.

I often wondered what factors contributed to his feeling and behaviors during his pre-teen and teenage years. He was born with Phase 3 bilateral reflux which was detected after running a high fever at 12 days old. The doctors assumed it was a form of meningitis and performed several spinal taps before noticing the abnormal urinalysis. He was monitored for 5 years and even participated in a study at the Center for Development and Learning Disorders at UAB. His early giftedness was observed and noted during his sessions.

Matt was a very well-mannered and obedient child. He did not have to be scolded frequently and he followed the rules for the most part until he was about 14. Then life took a swift change of course. He went from a complacent, compliant child to a sneaky, deceitful teenager. My first clue that there was trouble ahead came during a weekend youth retreat at Gatlinburg. I had volunteered to go as a counselor along with another adult friend and about 8 kids from our church. We were scheduled to attend the conference session at night but the youth were given some free time to shop in the afternoon. When time was up, the other counselor and I learned from his friends that Matt had been

arrested for shoplifting less than $10 worth of merchandise. His excuse was that he saw everyone leaving him so he rushed out the door forgetting he had unpaid items.  Whatever the reason, the other counselor and I had to pool our cash and come up with $85 to bail him out. We made the trip home with no souvenirs and no fast food on the way back.

Tennessee sent the case to Alabama where Matt was required to meet with a probation officer periodically. They suggested we see a counselor so this is where the process officially begins. I have said to many of my friends and their children, “Stay out of the Criminal Justice system at all cost.” Once you are in the system it is hard to avoid further confrontations. It’s like you name goes on some kind of list of usual suspects. Bad things seem to follow. In Matt’s case, bad things followed him for over 15 years before his big incident that send him to prison.

His dad and I decided to take the courts suggestion and take him to a counselor. At the time there was a huge psychiatric practice that saw many, many patients with Blue Cross insurance. They were like the big obstetrical practices in the 1980’s that saw so many patients it was impossible to make a relationship with any one doctor. I remember the frustration in waiting hours to see a doctor only to spend the first 15 minutes of my visit recounting my prior visit and my medical record. We knew there were mental issues with our son, but this way of practicing medicine was giving ME mental issues. Not until Matt’s arrest just prior to his 18^th birthday did any medical professional suggest he might have a drug problem that was affecting his behavior. They ruled out ADHD and assured us he was depressed and suffered from social anxiety. Matt had failed to make the school basketball team and his dad and I had noticed his change of attitude with the reality that he would never play basketball at the next level. I think they made their conclusion based on the information we had given them.

I remember one visit when Matt was scheduled to meet with his psychiatrist. He did not want me to be in with him in his session so I stayed in the lobby. He had a list of questions to ask the doc, but I knew he would use every excuse to get finished as quickly as possible. When he returned to the lobby in about 7 minutes, I was furious. I saw the doctor in the hallway and proceeded to give him my thoughts which were not pleasant at that time. His hallway diagnosis: “it looks like you are the one who needs medication, Mrs. Hobby.” I learned from my experiences that there is not much you can force on an uncooperative fifteen-year-old teenager.  Their rights begin at age fourteen and there are people, not parents, who will enforce their rights. So, we were not able to make Matt take a drug test. At that time there were no home tests. Our only recourse as parents was to withhold privileges, which led to numerous confrontations and arguments and eventually more arrests.

Matt’s first arrest in Alabama came just 2 weeks before his 18^th birthday. He was in his car with 2 other boys. They were attempting to make a phone call at a pay phone in a convenience store parking lot in Argo, Alabama when they were stopped by the police. The owner of the store though they might be trying to break in so he called the law. When the officers searched the car, they found marijuana and drug paraphernalia so all three were arrested.  Before the judge, Matt took the punishment for all three since it was his car. I remember the judge had made them sit in the courtroom while a man was sentenced to life in prison. I know he had hoped it would be a wakeup call. It might have been for the other two, but it was just the beginning of a life riddled with problems for Matt.

Prior to his arrest in August, Matt had failed to walk with his class at his high school graduation. We had found pot in our house and confronted him about his drug use. After we laid down our rules and the terms of our punishment, Matt decided to run away from home. He stayed gone for several days missing school for almost a week. When we located his whereabouts, which were not too far from home, I picked him up and took him to Bradford. He was not happy but once again, insurance would pay for his stay in rehab. He finished the program there and returned to school with a medical excuse for all the days missed. His dad and I met with each of his teachers and they agreed to give Matt the minimum of makeup work so that he could graduate. There is something to be said for applying knowledge and intelligence early on in the educational experience because teachers tend to favor those who work hard and persevere from the beginning of high school. They perceive a given level of excellence that follows even when the student begins to perform below their expectations. In other words, Matt started ninth grade as a straight A student and whatever work he did was perceived at a higher standard even if it was not. He had mastered the art of deception and he found a clever way to BS his way through high school. He even found a way to successfully change his grades even before there was a need to hire a computer hacker.

His manners and good grades, along with the fact that his mother knew most of the teachers from her years of substitute teaching, opened doors for Matt that would not have been opened for other students. Even the feared assistant principal, Mr. Wilson, gave Matt some slack he had not given to other students. Matt was likable, polite, and most teachers loved him. Which is why his failure to walk at graduation was such a disappointment. He refused to take a makeup Civics test for his government class. All he had to do was take the test. Maybe it was a control issue. Matt has a photographic memory. He can read a page, or basically just see the page, and it is imprinted in his mind. So, retaining information is not a problem for him, at least it was not at 17 years old. He had the knowledge, he just refused to take the test. So, he failed Senior Civics and did not graduate. I insisted he get his diploma so he took a correspondence course from the University of Alabama to complete is requirements to graduate.

Matt’s stay at Bradford was only the beginning of a long list of facilities and programs he would attempt on his way to sobriety. Bradford was a forced intervention and Matt did not want to go. He played the sympathy card and worked the system well, but as I have learned, it takes more than one attempt at rehab. I remember those long trips to visit Matt, nothing compared to the ones to come. Oak Mountain seemed like a vacation trip away. With all the somberness at this time, the Hobby family still managed to find our sense of humor. On one visit with the boys we stopped at a Wendy’s on the way. They had a promotion advertising a meal in less than 3 minutes. Of course, ours took 10. When I got up to the window to pay, the lady said “Sorry about your wait (weight) ma’am.”

From the back seat I heard Jeffrey reply, “Are you going to let her talk to you like that, Mom?” I stalled for a moment but when it sunk in, I exploded with laughter. We all did! Leave it to Jeffrey to always make me laugh!

So, the August arrest followed the stay at Bradford. The first try at Rehab did not take.  It was just the first of many to come. 

That Time of Year

 It’s that time of the year again. Holidays! All the festivities and merriment, the parties, and luncheons, gifts, decorating. Things that go along with celebrating. This year seems especially joy-filled since only last year we were in the middle of a health scare that none of us had ever experienced. It is not over but at least it has become more manageable, more tolerable.

And yet just today I was reminded of what a sad time Christmas can be for many. Those who have lost loved ones will have fewer places to set at the Christmas table, fewer presents to unwrap, fewer hugs and kisses. Those who are homeless will spend yet another day in their cars, on the streets, in a shelter, or anyplace they can find to just stay warm. Many hurting people with many different problems.

Even I have forgotten what a sad time the holidays were for me just a few years back. When my son was in prison, I dreaded the feeling I got when I thought about what he was going through as we filled our hearts with the laughter and the excitement of Christmas morning. The sense of hopelessness can over power the love and hope found in Christ Jesus and the wonder of His birth, death, and resurrection.

The pastor’s message in worship today really touched my heart. The scripture was from Isaiah who saw his people really disheartened with their circumstances. The Children of Israel were in captivity and Jerusalem had been practically destroyed.  Just as his sermon title stated, the people were trying to cope “When Everything is Wrong.”  In the search for meaning amid the chaos, they had forgotten where true hope lies. Isaiah promised them that hope in a coming Messiah.

In many ways we are just like those ancestors of long ago. We search for meaning in the material and physical things of this world. My pastor’s words struck a personal hurt that I had not recalled in many years.

When I was about 13 or 14 years old, I had a particularly difficult Christmas. My parents had just divorced, I had moved to a new school, and I had developed a very low image of myself. To put it frankly, I was just hurting. I had asked for some store-bought clothes for Christmas, not just store bought but name brand items. I was tired of wearing my homemade ones. My mother, being a single mom, had tried her best. She purchased two beautiful sweaters for me from a fashionable retail shop.  Although they were stylish and trendy, they were expensive and all that she could afford. I remember the disappointment on Christmas morning when I saw there were just two and they didn’t even fit me properly. I was a tall and awkward size at that time which is probably the reason most of my wardrobe was hand made. I must have cried and thrown a terrible fit, because I can still feel the pain and the heartache, not just my own but the hurt I caused my mother as well.

I see the same actions today in others trying to fill the void in their heart with “stuff.” Christmas lists with impractical items for hearts longing to feel better, searching for hope.…trying to find their store-bought happiness

That’s where we as believers can help. Unlike Isaiah, we know the promised Messiah. We can be the hands and feet of Christ. We can offer that hope to a world that has forgotten what it means to care for our fellow man. And it doesn’t take a lot of time and money either. We just have to offer ourselves to others. A simple smile, a kind word, a handshake can start a transformation and, who knows, it just might change someone’s life in the process.

We Have the Power

      Last week I experienced a breakthrough! Not one that anybody would notice, just me. Those who know me are familiar with the struggles I battle with my oldest son, Matt. He struggles with past experiences that often trigger bouts of explosive behavior which happen without warning. A single word, a strange look, a whispered comment can ignite a fire storm of gigantic proportions. These episodes are not only scary, but can be dangerous as well. I have seen Matt and his dad resort to a physical altercation from a simple disagreement. Granted, there have been times when there was a reason for the dispute, but most frequently they are brought on by simple misunderstandings.

      We had an altercation this past week. To be honest, I don’t even remember what it was about. I just figured it came from his PTSD, but it was a big one. Some of the time I am the focus of blame. Being a mom and a woman, I just want to “fix things.” I end up opening my mouth with suggestions, when a simple listening ear would suffice.

      The incident this week was particularly bothersome. I went to bed that night in a state of frustration and anxiety. What am I going to do with this 40-year-old adult man-child that is still trying to change? Will he ever get it? Will I always have to live this way?

      I managed to “think” my way to sleep. As expected, I was awakened at my normal 3:00 a.m. talk with the Lord. For at least the last 30 years, I have gotten up at that time of night. It may be for a rest room break or a glass of water, but I think it probably started with the nighttime feeding of my baby boys. I would rock them as I fed them and pray over them as I sang softly until they fell back to sleep. Whatever the reason, it has been my quiet time with the Lord.

      As I was sharing my complaints, I began to ask for help. What I am supposed to do? How can I take this conflict? I know it is not from the Lord because this type of behavior is not His nature. My God is a God of peace, and love. How do I make these arguments stop?

     That is when I heard that small inner voice I have heard so many times. This time it was convicting me. “You have been given the Resurrecting Power of Jesus Christ! Use it!” It was at that point that I felt a breakthrough. I knew exactly what I needed to do. I began to cry out, well, actually I whispered out since everyone was asleep.

      I raised my hands to the heavens and called on those evil powers that were attacking my family to leave. I claimed the Resurrection power of the Lord. I went from room to room whispering and praying. “In the name of Jesus Christ, leave my house, you demons of anger, demons of depression, demons of addiction. Any of the powers that oppress just get out!”

      Now, I am no Earnest Ainsley, but that night I was filled with the power. I took the Resurrection Power of Jesus Christ and I used that power to kick some behinds! Afterwards, as I settled back in bed, I had the most unbelievable sense of Peace, the Peace that passes all understanding.

      I am reminded of two passages that were both written by the apostle Paul and both reassure me of the power we have been given as children of God. The Greek word Paul uses for power is dynamis, the same root word for dynamite. We need to wake up and address our problems head on. We do not have to live in fear, we have been given the Power.

I pray that you will begin to understand how incredibly great His power is to help those who believe Him. It is that same mighty power that raised Christ from the dead and seated Him in the place of honor at God’s right hand in heaven. – Ephesians 1:19-20

For God has not given us a spirit of fear and timidity, but of power, love, and self-discipline. --2Timothy 1:7

That Small Inner Voice

Sometimes I hear a story that just touches my heart. I heard one yesterday.

    I ran into a friend at the local grocery store. She looked exhausted. When I asked where she had been, she sighed and said, “I have just driven to Daphne and back.” After further questions, she explained that she and a friend had driven the 350 miles down to the south Alabama town to get some much-needed personal items for another friend then turned around and drove back.  Apparently, the friend from Daphne had come up to Birmingham to attend to some business and have lunch with the two Birmingham friends. They were all retired and had previously worked together for many years. That working relationship had led to a strong friendship and the three met whenever possible.

     On the morning of the lunch date the Daphne friend had called to say he could not make it, he had slipped in the shower of his hotel and broken his hip. He was at the hospital awaiting surgery. His two Birmingham friends did not even hesitate. After checking on him with the hospital staff and the doctors, the two headed to his hotel room to pack up his things and clean it out. Then they traveled together to his home in Daphne to retrieve what he needed for an extended stay in a rehabilitation facility while his hip mended.

    The Daphne friend had lost all of his immediate family and he had no children of his own. His Birmingham friends had stepped in just when he needed them. They were there by the grace of God, to help him in his time of extreme need. What an awesome testimony to love and friendship.

    I often question what it looks like to love someone, friend or enemy. If we are called to Love one another, just what does that look like? If I disagree with the ideas of others and feel strongly about my beliefs, how do I show the unconditional love of a generous God. How do I use my actions for His glory? The simple answer is, I don’t! I have to let the Holy Spirit take over in the situation. I can only let God work in me and through me supernaturally.

    If I listen to my inner thoughts, I am often amazed at what the Holy Spirt says to me. It’s not a loud voice from heaven, it’s not fire coming down from the sky. It is often a simple unexpected thought that pops in my head at the most inopportune moments, a thought that makes me say, “Where did that come from?”

   Recently I was questioning why God would allow a young woman whom I watched grow up and have children of her own make a conscious decision to change her sexual identity. I knew she was a true believer that Jesus was the Son of God who rose from the dead. I was there at her confession of faith that Jesus had died for all our sins, so why was she making this decision. That small little voice said this to me, “Just let me be the judge.  You know she is a believer, so maybe I have chosen her to meet others like her and tell them about my grace and mercy, to tell them about Jesus Christ. Who better than her to reach those like her because …..You sure aren’t going to try and reach them.”

    I was shocked! But it was true. That inner voice had just given me a slap in the face. Somehow, I felt a peace about me that was calming. I felt a release that I cannot explain knowing that I am not in charge of the salvation of others. My charge is to share my story of God’s grace as it applies to me, not judge the behavior of others. As an older believer, I can lead them and guide them in the truth but I must do so with compassion and calmness and direction from the Holy Spirit, guidance in Spirit and Truth. That, my friend, is true love and friendship.

   When my son was living at home awaiting his prison sentence, he developed MERSA from an infection. I remember thinking and praying that the authorities would show mercy and lighten his sentence since he could be a health risk. In the midst of my morning quiet time I heard that small voice say, “I’m going to protect Matt, you let me worry about the How!”  And the God who is Faithful and True did just that during his entire prison stay.

    A small voice, inaudible to the outside world but spoken loudly to my inner spirit. It resonates both in my head and in my heart.  It reassures and affirms. It comforts and convinces. It speaks the Truth and beckons me to listen. It has changed my life in so many ways. It continually forces me to relook at situations and see the good in people.

   Without a doubt those Birmingham friends heard a small voice telling them to go help a friend in need. That small voice is what directs us on when and how to love. So, the next time I face a difficult situation or a test of my patience and understanding, I pray that I can listen to that small voice and let God show me what to do. I pray I will continue to let Him handle the How!

Why I Write my Blog

   It has been some time since my last post. I thought that maybe no one would want to hear about life after prison, that life would be boring and routine.  I would love to say that Matt came home, found a job, started a family and beat the odds to live happily ever after, but life doesn’t work that way. That’s what I dislike about so many televangelists. They paint an unreal picture of reality for Christians. Heck, for anybody if you get right down to it. The only difference Christians have is the hope in an eternal life with Jesus Christ.  I want everyone to realize that life is tough even in the best of circumstances, so I post again.

   Yes, Matt survived the seven years in a federal prison. Yes, he has a safe place to stay at home with his family. Yes, he has a job with all the medical benefits. He has even begun to get dental work done, a blessing since he didn’t lose any teeth during his incarceration. But there are still issues, more like an adjustment to real life. His sobriety came during his jail term. His dad and I had sent him to many recovery programs, some local and some out of state, but his actual time to become clean was during his stay in prison.

   I’m sure it was not an easy accomplishment since he has said almost any drug was available in the Yard. But sobriety does not bring maturity. There was such a span of years from his dependency to his sobriety that he missed so many years of emotional development. He had been using some type of drug from the age of 14 and he just turned 39. I feel like I am teaching life skills to a grown man who thinks he can handle things on his own, who gets frustrated with the simple things, who is accustomed to a world of structure when my world is full of constant change with flexible adjustments.  Life is not easy.

    When I first started my blog, I wrote for two reasons:  my sanity and a desire to help others who were in similar situations.  I wanted to inform parents about what to expect on a first visit to a penitentiary. I wanted to let them know just what to wear and what to say. I had no one to answer my questions, no one to confide in, no one to give me suggestions or directions on what to do, so I wanted to be as transparent as I could about my feeling and my thoughts about having a child in prison. But God had a different plan for my blog.

    Each time I wrote I could feel the Holy Spirit directing my words. Thoughts would appear at the strangest times, at 3 in the morning, on a walk with my dog, in my car at rush hour. I never knew when I would feel a prompting to pen my views on the penal system or the effects of drug addiction on the family unit. One thing I felt for certain was that God was directing my brainwaves as I sat at the computer. What started as a simple How-to Manual for Visiting Prison became an instrument for sharing God’s glory at one of the darkest times of my life.

    So, I am still writing. I still feel the need to share my feeling from the heart.  To those who have dealt with addiction, my words are too familiar. To those who have never felt the fear and the uncertainty of the next event in the life of an addict, count your blessings.  I’ve learned to embrace the words of the Serenity Prayer. I have learned to work on the things I can change, like my attitude and my anger. It’s only through repeated tries and failures that I have found a way to accept the things I cannot change, and I trust in the Lord to give me the wisdom to know the difference.

Christmas Joy!

      I am giddy about Christmas this year! I have no Christmas tree up, there are no presents wrapped, and most things have not even been ordered; but I feel an overwhelming joy this Christmas! I think it began on the Sunday after Thanksgiving when our minister asked the congregation to write down three things we were thankful for every day. She called it The 30 Day Challenge. What a wonderful exercise in self-reflection.

       As I begin to write I thought first of the obvious...my family, my church, my granddaughter. Our challenge was not to repeat what we were thankful for but to expand and observe how our list was woven together and connected to each other. We needed to start looking at the why and how of our thankfulness and not just make a list.

      When I was a child, I saw Christmas as a time to get things I had wished for throughout the year...that special toy, that new dress. As an adult I saw Christmas as a time to make up for things that we needed but had not gotten during the year... that new refrigerator, that microwave oven. Christmas is not about wants and needs. It's about love and giving. It's about thanksgiving. I feel that more than ever this Christmas!
       A few weeks back I received a message from a friend. She needed toys for her children this Christmas but had no idea where she would get them. I knew I could help a little but I couldn't provide the whole Christmas so I just began to pray. The very next day another friend asked if I knew anyone that needed help. I knew without a doubt God had heard my prayers. I was thankful to be an instrument of His love! What an awesome feeling of joy!
       Recently I attended a memorial service of a friend who had become very ill in the last few months. Rather than mourn his passing, his wife chose to celebrate his life with thanksgiving. It was only within the last few years that her husband had accepted Christ as his savior, something she had been praying about for over 40 years. Another awesome feeling of joy this Christmas!
       Yes, this is the first time I will have my family together in many years. No prison visit over the holidays, Matt will be joining us for Christmas dinner. Praise the Lord! But this season I seem to feel the blessings all around me. My joy is renewed each time I hear a story of hope or witness an act of love or thanksgiving.  And just to make sure I continue to feel the joy inside, God sent the most beautiful blanket of snow on an unexpected Friday in December! What an awesome feeling of joy! Merry Christmas, everyone!

Homecoming - Some Are Not So Happy

Only 17 more days until my son comes home. Seven years is a long time to sit and think about past mistakes. I guess that's why they call it "doing time," sort of an Adult Time-Out.  

It is my prayer that Matt has forgiven himself and asked God's forgiveness for his actions. I believe he has simply because he has a hope for the future. He's excited to be starting a real job and making a new life. I only hope he is patient enough to wait on directions from the Lord. He realizes how much of his life he has wasted and he's anxious to get it going on the right track. 

My son is one of the lucky ones. He's coming home to a loving family and a tremendous church family who has supported him through this whole ordeal. He has been blessed in so many ways. That is why I decided to write this blog. I wanted to share what God has done for me in the middle of such horrific circumstances. I wanted to send a word of encouragement to others in unimaginable situations.

Some prisoners are not so lucky. I want to share a recent  Facebook post from a friend of mine. I hope you read it. We need more Angels like her out there. After all, Jesus Christ asked us to be His hands and feet in the world we live in. Thank you, Jeanie Thomas Emblom, for your compassion and your actions. God Bless you!

So, I ran into my little man again at the Winn Dixie. The one that I got advil last time for because he was in pain. Seems , we have a relationship of few words and straight to the point. I stopped  (hesitating because I had so much to do and didn't want to be late to work.) I said "what do you need?" He said "I'm Hongry"(his pronunciation). I said "what do you want? "  "I don't care , I'm hongry". I was in a hurry, so I took a chance and gave him enough money to go to McDonald's and watched him slowly walk over there. As I was in Winn Dixie rushing around , I started thinking about how McDonald's was not very nutritious,  so I quickly  grabbed 3 bananas, some grapes, gatorade,  some chips and a brownie and ran to the checkout. Upon leaving the store, I circled McDonald's to see if I could find him and spotted him walking down a side road, burger in one hand and drink in the other and chased him down to give him his healthier food for later. When he saw me. He said" yous going to give me a ride? " Against my better judgement, I told him to hop in and drove him 5 miles to near his brothers house, where he stays. On the ride, I found out that his name was Joe and that he had just gotten out of prison after serving 22 years. I didn't ask him what he did to get himself into that mess, I don't want to know.  He had walked to the WD shopping Center to try to get a job. He has no social security, 19 dollars a week in food stamps and says his brother has more rules than prison. But he is confident that somehow he is going to get a break. He really , really wants any kind of job. Broke my heart and I cried all the home. 

Please pray for Joe. He made a very bad mistake over 20 years ago and really has not much hope. He's not young at all, probably in his sixties. So , if you see him at the Winn Dixie southside, be generous. He wears black glasses, skinny as a rail, and has something wrong with one of his eyes.

Pray that he finds an honest way to make a little money.  He's strong because he walks miles and miles every day.