Rewind real quick. On February 28th, after John was found guilty, he was quickly handcuffed and brought into the hall. He had a mouth full of stuff, and in a panic, thinking they would find it during the search, he swallowed it.
They brought him to MCJ and placed him in a cell for booking. The amount of time he was there is unknown. When they found him, he was unresponsive. The deputies spent 15 minutes doing CPR before calling it. A sweet older nurse rushed over and said, "We aren't giving up yet," before hitting him with some Narcan and bringing him back.
John spent a week in the hospital before going back to MCJ. He spent a month there before they shipped him to CRC. Once he left, I was able to pick up his personal items. I called the jail to let them know I was coming down to get his stuff. When I entered, I had to sign a paper before they brought it up to me.
It was a little brown bag with his clothes and personal items. I got home and put the bag in the garage. I figured I would get to it another day. The days turned into weeks, and the weeks turned into months.
Since I didn't have much going on tonight, I decided to go through the garage to clean some of my stuff out. As I was sorting through things, I came across that brown bag. I don't know if I put it on the shelf in April because I didn't have the strength to go through it, or if I put it there so it didn't get lost. Whatever the reason, God felt tonight would be a good night for me to look at it.
I put the bag on the kitchen table and started pulling things out. His shoes that we bought specifically for trial were on top. I set them aside and looked further. His tie, dress shirt, slacks, and socks are now in the washer. I then found a piece of paper and two white envelopes that were labeled "glasses," and the other one I couldn't make out.
I opened the one with the sloppy writing first. The first item I pulled out was a monastic scapular, worn for protection. My mother gave it to him the first day of court and encouraged him to wear it. When I gave it to him, he wore it every day. The second item was a pendant cross with the face of Jesus in the middle and a handwritten note. He kept it in his pants pocket and clenched it when he got scared or anxious. The last item was the cross bracelet I got him that he didn't leave the house without.
As I was looking at all of this stuff, it hit me. I couldn't fight the tears anymore. He was wearing the full Armor of God the day of the guilty verdict. He didn't have a chance to take it off. He lay there covered in God's protection. You don't think God sent that nurse over to save him?
I wanted to tell everyone about this, but it dawned on me that not everyone shares the same beliefs. I continued to sit at my table staring at the items. I couldn't formulate a thought; I just remember being overwhelmed and grateful in his glory.
Moments later, I thought, "Every single moment of my life, God has planned out." Every moment of John's, God is working on. Do you ever look back at past events or situations that happened in your life and think, "Wow, now it makes sense"? It's like the pieces of the puzzle are starting to connect.
I don't know what's going to happen with the appeal. I am adamant it'll get denied because of the county we're in, but part of me knows God is in control and he's still paving our path.
I had another unexpected conversation this week. I'll save the details for another time, but it was relieving to get confirmation on the information I already knew.
Thanksgiving was rough, but as I sit here typing this out, I realize how incredibly blessed I am. My girls are amazing, my man is perfect (to me), and my friends are one in a million. While this isn't the life I wanted or expected, it's a part of God's plan. We don't question God's plan or the timing of it. I have to learn to trust and surrender.
John 3:16 "For God so loved the world that he gave his one and only Son, that whoever believes in him shall not perish but have eternal life"
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