The following story is an odd mix of beauty and heartbreak. It is a picture of the messiness of life, relationships, and God's tireless pursuit of our hearts.
I had not seen or heard from her in over a year. We would frequently search for her, driving the streets that had been her home, her place of work, her place of entrapment. But I had nearly given up hope that I would ever see my friend again. I prayed that she had escaped her demons and broken the chains of addiction; that she was living clean and sober somewhere in a whole new part of the country. That she was thriving, not merely surviving. Then one day I decided to look her up in the prison system, one last time. One last effort to find her. And there she was.
She was in Denver Women's Correctional facility, a higher security prison that seemed to be her second home (or maybe her first). Her picture on the offenders web-page was close to terrifying. Freshly inked face tattoos, spiked hair, and eyes that stared daggers at anyone who dared to meet her gaze, had taken the place of the beautiful, blond girl that I once knew. The streets are hard. And the drugs are harder. I, and many of you who have never even met this young woman but have prayed for her for years, have gotten to walk through life with her for some time. Her roller coaster of an existence has taken her through addictions, pregnancies, rehabs, homelessness, and myriad of other experiences that would threaten to break even the strongest of human beings. The picture I saw was exactly that. Broken. Heartbroken.
Needless to say, I was thrilled that she was alive, and I wrote to her immediately. Weeks later, I finally got a letter back. Her loopy handwriting gave away the point in time of innocence lost, the point in time when her development stalled. The "I's" were occasionally dotted with hearts as if the letter had been written by a middle-schooler. The letter was beautiful. She wrote about God, going so far as to tell me that He was, in-fact, "what she had been searching for this whole time." Years earlier we had given her a copy of a book called Redeeming Love, a book I highly recommend. She told me that somehow that book had followed her into prison yet again, and she has read and re-read it over and over. "It gives me so much hope," she wrote. Tears filled my eyes and the eyes of my co-workers as we poured over her words.
She told us in the letter that she was going to be imprisoned for a long time. Possibly life. I couldn't believe my eyes, and I couldn't believe that she would have done something so heinous to deserve this. My friend. Whatever she did, she didn't say. She isn't ready. But she told us that she had a court date soon, and pleaded with us to come. We put it on our calendar, and I couldn't wait to see her.
The day finally came for her to sit in front of a judge for the preliminary hearing. I sat and waited as the men went first, one by one, to the podium for sentencing. They rushed through them quickly, and the room cleared except for the five armed guards. The back door creaked open, and in walked my dear friend. She wore the red jumpsuit indicating a threat of some kind and segregated housing. She had been on 23 hour-a-day lockdown, which means no communication, no interaction, no life. There was no fear in her eyes, only disdain. I had only seen her like this once before, when she had protected my life the day I wandered into a potentially bad situation. She didn't notice us sitting there, so we just watched.
My heart broke with every passing minute. I began to realize the permanence of this situation. She was on her way to being sentenced for a lifetime in prison. And there was nothing I could do about it. She had broken the law to such an extent that it warranted extreme punishment. There was no protecting her. There were no answers. This was it. Years of relationship and love, years of victories and defeat, years of walking through life together, had culminated at this moment.
Just as she was about to take the stand, and just after a particularly terrifying glare to one of the police officers standing by, she finally saw us. Her harsh exterior melted in an instant, less than an instant. She wept, and smiled, and wept some more all at the same time. That was the girl I knew. She mouthed "I love you guys" over and over again until she was told to stop, which she did for a moment, only to pick back up when her accusers turned away. She tried to tell us what she was facing. 32 to life in prison. "But it's ok guys, I have God. He's with me" she whispered, comforting us when we had nothing to comfort her.
The next hour is a blur. They read some of her charges, I will leave the details out, but they were indeed horrible. She had been consumed in the past year, having been overtaken by the fire of a life that was hijacked by horrendous circumstances and poor choices. They led her away, her hands and feet were chained. She cried. And as they led her through the door, she yelled at us over her shoulder, "I'm so sorry! I love you guys!" She said it over and over until we could no longer see her. And that was that. We walked out of the room, not to return until the final hearing when she will be sentenced officially. That date is June 7, 2012.
Friends, you might be thinking that this is one downer of a story. There is a tension here that is inescapable. And the tension is this: our efforts didn't "work". Plain and simple. The love that we got to show her didn't "fix" all of her "problems". And let me tell you, this is difficult for me to come to terms with. Over the years, I have maintained hope and excitement in her story. And I still do hope, but there is a certain feeling of closure now. There is a feeling of finality. Do you feel it too? But for there to be tension, there must be an opposing force, another side to the coin.
Allow me to encourage you with a few things. Number one, God is still not done with her. I have seen this time and time again. He is always in pursuit and I believe He always will be. In-fact, she is in a place of surrender and peace like I haven't seen her in before. Number two, though she may be incarcerated for the rest of her days in this world (and maybe not, things can always change), she still has choices and she still has opportunities for reconciliation and rescue. What a good God we get to live life with who chooses to give us the gift of choice and the ability to execute decisions. Our friend has these opportunities, in or out of jail. And number three, maybe her story is a lesson to all of us as to what love looks like. Maybe it is a lesson as to why we choose to love someone. Is it to fix them? Is it to come up with a formula that "works" and saves them? Or are we choosing to live a life defined by love because it is the best choice and because it is what Jesus did and told us to do? I have come to believe that it is as simple as that. My friend has taught me this: that love is powerful and that it can indeed change hearts and lives*. We have all seen this! But even if our efforts in love change nothing, to love is worth it simply for love's sake. Thank you for having gone on this journey with me and with my friend for these years. If you would, keep praying for her. I pray for you often, that you may be encouraged to continue loving in your own circumstances, whatever those may be.
*For an encouraging story about what can happen when we choose to show love, check out the beginning of Mark chapter 2 in the Bible.
