The police had come to my house and served a search warrant on my son and his friend shortly after arriving home from school. They were ordered to sit on the couch and not move, or use their phones while the police searched the house looking for more evidence.
After coming home I wanted to take my mind off things so I started cleaning the house well into the night. After picking up all the clothing that had been dumped onto the floor and putting back all the items that had been emptied out of boxes in the garage the night still dragged on.
I was desperate for information about my husband and called one of my longtime friend’s daughters that worked for the Sheriff’s Department.
My husband and I had taken her to my company picnic once when she was a small child and it was pretty embarrassing telling her my husband had been arrested. She was able to look in the system and tell me which jail he was in. She was very professional to me, and at the same time I could tell she was concerned.
I had told my father-in-law in an earlier conversation my husband better not call me from jail because I was so mad. Turns out I didn’t have to worry about it because he used his one phone call from jail to call his dad to come bail him out.
After that call my father-in-law called his siblings to see if they could help out with bail money. This ended up causing a huge division in the family. Mostly all of his siblings felt that my husband had caused this mess and he could get himself out of it.
These tensions affected almost everyone in the family down to cousins that were fighting with their own siblings. Some were of the opinion that what he had done was very wrong and still others had sympathy for him. These tensions still exist today, over 10 years later.
The next day when my husband came home from jail he walked in the house and grabbed his basketball. I said “We need to talk about what happened – I’m really upset” or something to that effect. He said “You’re upset? I just spent the night on the floor of a jail.” He took his basketball and walked out the door.
I sat in my car and cried so my kids wouldn’t see me upset. It seemed like he could care less about me, or even try to tell me what was going on. A million questions ran through my head, and I had no answers.
Sometime before I had heard of a Christian radio station and not having anyone to talk to I decided to call in. An elderly man answered and he sounded exactly like my grandpa that had just passed away the year before. He prayed for me and just like that hung up before I could say another word. His voice comforted me and his prayers strengthened me enough to face the day.
I dried my tears and walked back into the house.
Psalm 18:2 The LORD is my rock, and my fortress, and my deliverer; my God, my strength, in whom I will trust; my buckler, and the horn of my salvation, and my high tower.