Jail...part 2......

“When a man does a piece of work which is admired by all we say that it is wonderful; but when we see the changes of day and night, the sun, the moon, and the stars in the sky, and the changing seasons upon the earth, with their ripening fruits, anyone must realize that it is the work of someone more powerful than man.”

— —Chief Standing Bear

I have learned a lot-I already know that Someone more powerful IS in control.  I knew that.  But it is still always good to see HIM-my GOD-YHWH- in action.  I have also learned about friendship and about support. 

 I have learned that some say they support-yet hold the knife, so you should not turn your back on them...(remember the saying keep your friends close and your enemies closer?  It is true.) 

I have seen that you will get support from those who want to see the midwife laws changed-who will fight with all they have to do just that.  I have learned that you get support from those who want to see the government out of the family’s private business-and who do not want to regulate midwifery, but just want the government to stay out of the people’s business. (Wouldn’t that be wonderful?!) You will get support from many, for different reasons, but you will receive it from all over the world.  It has been amazing.   I have ‘met’ many, on line, many wonderful people. I thank all of you for your ongoing encouragement. 

The prayers from those people who support me--- have also been such a blessing.

Going thru this, going thru something tough-standing up for others and their rights ---it does make me think-

--how many of you would stand up for what you believe to be wrong, how hard would you try to make changes-, to take that stand-no matter the price you may pay?  

 I have been called a freedom fighter, a warrior, a law-breaker, a true friend, a strong woman, a woman of faith---a fighter for women, a fighter for families private rights, a trail blazer. 

 The day of my first hearing: 

before I walked into the court house, they sang a hymn.  My sister reached out to give me a hug, because I began to cry...it was the hymn that our daddy use to play his guitar and sing to us....she whispered to me, stop, dont let them (the authorities) see you cry,....

they lined the sidewalk, and I walked thru the crowd, now they follow me into the court house

speaking with a reporter...

going into the court house

My daughter and sister counted about 180 people in attendance and in support of me-even though the newspapers only reported 100 supporters who showed up on that day.  All of those people showed up in support and I thank them for that support. 

This guy was great! Got the town honking! 

the president of Indiana Midwives Association and I talk (photo from Goshen newspaper)

  GOD is still in control, and HE has exposed the hearts of many whom I thought was a friend.  Even Jobs friends came and sat with him.  I am thankful that HE-the FATHER has not left me.  HE is still in control of my life and I pray HE uses all of this for HIS glory. 

So here is the rest of my story:

The cement is cold.  The strange thing is it actually feels good on my back and neck. My head is pounding. My blood sugar is way off, I can tell.  But I rest a little.

I think about how I will have to sleep this way.  I am not sure I can rest while lying down on this hard (steel) bench. It is actually more comfortable sitting up like this. The little mat they give you to put on the steel “bed” is not even long enough for a child.  I would have to curl up into a ball to fit on it. I think about the freedom of having as many pillows as I want at home, and how that is not possible here. I do not even have one pillow.  If I am to be here for some time-I will miss those simple freedoms.  The thin mat is only about an inch thick, not thick enough to provide any type of comfort.  It is also a weak mat, meaning, it does not seem to hold up so basically provides a barrier between the steel bed and me, of the thickness of a sheet.

Tears flow again….and I think of this:

“There is sacredness in tears. They are not the mark of weakness, but of power. They speak more eloquently than ten thousand tongues. They are messengers of overwhelming grief...and unspeakable love.” 

Washington Irving

I also remember this verse:

 Psalm 56:8 says:

You keep track of all my sorrows.  You have collected all my tears in your bottle.  You have recorded each one in your book.

I think about all of my freedoms that are now restricted, taken away, and all because I am helping women with their rights to choose.  I battle for rights for women and their families.  Now the truth will come out as to if they in turn, will be supportive of my sacrifice. Or at least supportive of me personally- their actions will expose all hearts. 

 I am a warrior.

 I have often been alone in my battles. 

I have always been willing to work in the trenches, even if I am alone, for years. 

The mission work I did was often alone.  I almost always-sat alone sorting clothing, I often went alone-driving across the country to deliver the items---

  I sat once before the pastor and elders of our church, arguing with them as they questioned me and the reasons I did what I did with the mission work.  Since they did not see people getting 'saved'..  They did not support me and what I was doing-because they did not see the numbers of those saved....  Sometimes its about trust before the harvest comes in.  I got that. I always did.  Others, did not. 

I told them I would go alone then. I am accountable to GOD first. I would not allow men, even if elders, to put themselves before GOD.  GOD speaks to me-I listen.  If I always go alone, I would rather blaze the trail than follow the crowd in blindness.  I KNOW what GOD said to me-and I alone am accountable for following HIS will or not.

 I sit here alone.

GOD whispers to me-no you’re not alone.

I rest.

I pray.

I rest again.

The door opens and there is the female police officer I met before--here to ask me something.  I again ask about: -- my pants that are too tight, and ask about a bible.  I ask again about my insulin. 

I do not receive my insulin, I do not receive a bible and I do not receive a change of clothing that will fit better.

This happens a total of about 4 times.

I do not know what time it is.  But I know I am not given a lunch. I am not hungry, but as a diabetic-I have to eat something, even just a little-to maintain a proper blood sugar balance or my body does bad things to my sugar level.  I also know I am not given my insulin or able to test my blood sugar.  Stress does a number on my blood sugar….it is probably the cause of my headache, I am sure of that.   My blood sugar is way too high because of the stress---but I cannot do anything about it.  They will not let me.

I sit in solitude.  

The LORD tells me some things, and some of it is not good-like the fact that some whom I have called friends/family- will leave me as a friend.  HE warns me of that.  But HE also tells me HE has not left me and will not eveleave me.  HE has called me, and I am to continue to trust HIM, not to depend on humans, but only on HIM and to listen closely.

HE tells me-other things, things I am not allowed to share with anyone at this time.... But HE warns me of what is to come with some....

So there I sit.  Waiting for someone to bring me news, to bring me pants that fit, to bring a bible, to bring a note pad and pencil, to bring my blood sugar supplies and insulin….I sit and wait-for hours.

The room has no window to the outside.  There are no bars; it’s not like in the movies.  This is probably what they call a holding cell.  There is no way to tell what time it is by the sun since there are no windows.  It makes me wonder how dark it is in here at night.  

Will they keep the light on all night? Do I get a say in that?  If they do, that would be too bright to sleep.  But with the light off, it would be complete darkness.  I doubt that it would be as dark as if you’re in a cave….I have been in a cave and had the light off, that is true darkness—I wonder if that is the way it is in hell. 

But for this cell, I am sure the light from on the other side of the door will shine under the door.  Funny the things you think about at a time like this.

The door is a heavy door, thick steel.  It has a small window-about the size of a foot wide by a foot tall.  It has a steel door on it that they can open and shut to look in at us.  It has a covering on the side of the cell so the prisoner cannot reach the officer, but allows the officer to look in at the prisoner.

I hear something at the door, and that little door inside the door opens, and an officer I have not yet seen today, asks me if I am ok.  He is obviously in a hurry, and begins to shut the little door prior to my answer ---when I yell out a loud “”NO””

He opens the little door back up, and asks what is needed.  I tell him my leg is swelling enough that if I do not get a different pair of pants I am going to have a big problem.  I also ask for a bible ---again.  He does not give me enough time to ask anything else before he shuts the little door, so I do not even get to ask about my blood sugar, and medicine.

About what seems like a half an hour later, I hear the door opening-the big door-and that officer stands there with an article of clothing in his hands.  He says that he only has one large size, and that they are very large, telling me they will probably be too big-and there is no belt to hold them up. 

He then throws them towards me purposefully to land on the floor. He could have just placed them on the floor at the door (I understand for safety reasons they cannot walk in and hand them to me nicely, but there appeared to be an attitude behind the action-which was rude).  He tells me that I can place the others on the floor when I am done changing. 

Before he leaves-I ask about a phone call to which his reply is that he will try to get the phone.

Once he shuts the door, I change out of the one pair of pants, and put on the new pair, which are so large, I have to hold them to keep them from falling down.  That would be embarrassing if they would fall down yet they watch me use the bathroom so I guess they have seen it all already anyway. If I would have to walk anywhere, they would come off, I bet the cops would get a laugh out of that too, naked bottom of mine exposed as I walk with my hands so they could see them, hand cuffed in front of me, and nothing to hold my pants up. I guess they must like this torment, or they would try a bit harder to provide something that fits.  The unfortunate thing about the new pair-the tight older pair held the peri pad in place, with this new pair- the pad falls out onto the floor.  I finally give up, it will not stay in place. Well, wont this be fun.

Again I sit and wait.  No bible yet.  No anything.

They finally bring food.  

It is a mess of starch thick noodles mixed with a sauce and some mystery meat, (all things a diabetic can NOT eat) then white bread and corn.  Really? All are things that I as a diabetic can NOT eat.  Especially all together in one meal! With the way my blood sugar is (although I do not know the actual reading it is since they will not allow me to check it) I can tell my  the migraine headache I have had that it has to be well over 350 close to 400.  If I eat this meal, it will kill me.  It would cause me to go into a diabetic coma! There is an apple and milk, so I ask the female cop who brought me in the meal if they have anything else like fruits and vegetables or just cheese or meat.  She looks at me like you're kidding?  She tells me no, and asks me what I usually eat.  I tell her organic vegetables, fruit and meat---she again looks at me like I am nuts and says no.  I tell her this meal will kill me.  She leaves and comes back with a carrot stick that has been sliced so thin so it looks like there is more than there really is.  I eat the carrot stick, apple, and drink the milk.  Not the best but better than the rest of the junk.  I will either loose weight here or die.  I had asked this female cop earlier about my medicine and checking my blood sugar but again, they bring nothing so I can do that.

Finally a phone comes. 

Now when I was put in this cell, remember they did not allow me to wear underwear or a bra.  After all, I might hang myself with them.  (If I really wanted to –I could do that with the pants and shirt too!)

But they bring me a phone, hooked up to a cord…a really long cord that reaches across the cell with some left over going out under the door.  I guess they are more worried about me hanging myself with my bra than this phone cord!  There is enough cord here to wrap around my neck about 20 times.  I could strangle myself instead of hanging myself.

  That is just stupid.  Really? Worry about a bra but not this?  I am surprised they do not give a cell phone with no cord!

I call home.  It cost 10 dollars for 5 minutes.  Finally Scott answers. 

We cry.

I tell him remember anything I say or he says they will use against me, so do not say anything.  They are after all, taping the call.  It is not that I have anything to hide, but still-they will twist things.

Scott tells me everyone is there, (our children and their families) and they are all trying to figure out what to do.

The call ends all too soon.  Then I am all alone.  I sit for a long time.  It seems like a long time. 

They do not come to get the phone, so I sit with the phone.  Again, they must not be worried about the cord, not like they are about the bra and underwear. 

After some time, just holding that phone, I call again.  It is the being lonely that is tough. I know I am spending a lot of money to make that call, but I need to hear my husband’s voice again.

Despite all of this, I have peace, true peace from GOD.  I know HE is in control.  I am not.

I am on the phone for that second time, and the door opens.  The police officer says I have bail.  I am very excited…I had thought I would not have bail until Monday sometime.  I ask him how much, and he tells me a $10,000. dollar bond.  That means $1000.00 to pay now.  He asks if I have it, and I say yes.  He looks sort of surprised, like he thought I would not have that much cash or something. Teachings thru the years of Larry B and now Dave Ramsey, pays off.

(they-the jail- dont take checks, visa, masercard or american express!)

I tell scott, and he asks what he is to do.  I tell him I need a bondsmen, so ask Jeannie who is at my house right now, as she knows what to do (she has been arrested for being a midwife too and knows how to help us with the decision of a bondsman)

I tell Scott where the money is, and how to get it, and tell him to hurry.

I sit and wait now, but the wait is easier. I am getting out and will sleep in my own bed tonight.

Later I hear the door open, and the officer tells me I can change (in that little bathroom, I changed in when I first got here) and that I am going home.

Then in a little while, he escorts me out, thru a series of steel doors.  I see my husband and son Nathan, and the bonds man.  I want to hurry out of there…just get away from that place-to just run...

I sign the necessary papers….I am not really listening to the others talk, my mind goes to thinking how you can almost smell freedom, I have heard that before-but now I 'know' what they mean.  I walk around, feels good to walk more than a few feet-then I look around on the walls in this room.  One bulletin board has (I count) 78 photos of criminals   ---all sex offenders ---for just this county. with a county of 37,000 people and 78 "known" set offenders....that means for about every 500 people there is one "known" sex offender. 

I know that some may actually be innocent, but still I think-why go after a midwife with that many sex offenders in the area?  Dont you have a lot to do to keep track of them?  If there are really that many that are in this county that have been ‘caught’, think of the ones who have not being caught.   Plus, the drug dealers!  The meth labs!  Really…spend the tax money going after the drug dealers and criminals that hurt women, children, with drugs, beating them, all of that. 

No, instead, the streets are safe now, since they have one less midwife.....

I walk back to where my son and husband are signing the final papers.  I am now in their hands….instead of being a ward of the county, I am now a ward of my husband and son...

We walk out the door of the jail and across the parking lot. I want to run...but I walk...

 I look over and I see the sun setting….the sight is beautiful, I turn and walk to the truck and cry….