I almost chose not to include my mugshot with this blog post, after seeing how awful I look in it. But in my defense, when the police arrived to arrest me, I was asleep, in bed. They hardly gave me the opportunity to get dressed. Couple that with the fact that, before taking the shot, I was left in a holding cell with one anti-social psychopath who was being deprived of her pain meds and an overly social woman coming off of some kind of drug that makes you twitch and see things. So, for three hours, I huddled in a corner, pretending to be asleep while secretly fearing for my life as the socialite kept pestering the woman detoxing from her prescription to "get off the fucking bed, bitch." The bed in question was a raised cement block, which they both felt entitled to. After a short while of arguing, they were ready to duke it out and kill one another over it. I prayed they wouldn't turn on me, since I was only taking up a corner in the floor.
I really was praying, between moments of panic and fear. I couldn't help but wonder why God would allow this, after all I had done cleaning up my life(isn't that an arrogant thought?) Realizing this, I began to pray instead that whatever would come from this would glorify God--that it would make Him look good. Soon, they pulled me out of that holding cell of hell, let me make a phone call, and got me into the fashionable gray and black striped jumpsuit, which swallowed me. Apparently, they didn't have a small size. They gave me a basket with a blanket, a towel, a mat, toilet paper, shampoo, a bar of soap, a cup, and a comb. It was about 4 a.m. when I got put in a cell block. I was stuck in there til my husband could bail me out the next day. I quietly found an empty place on a bottom bunk, and settled in. I was expecting the block to be like the holding cell, full of crazy and/or violent people. Instead, everyone was asleep, except for one woman, who I later found out was the equivalent of the head of the block--the convict who took charge and delegated to everyone. She greeted me, and explained a few things before we both layed down on our respective mats to try and sleep, which I found surprisingly difficult without a pillow.
An hour or two later, they brought in one of the crazies I had been in a holding cell with. She proceeded to act crazy, and woke everyone up. I think a few of the people would have beat her if breakfast hadn't been served right then. Everyone ate, and a few of them spoke to me, wondering what I was in for. I told them--aggravated assault, with a $30,000 bond, which apparently made me a 'badass'. I didn't feel like it, though. If they knew the whole story, they wouldn't think so, either. But I allowed them to think what they wanted, hoping it would keep me from getting picked on for any reason.
Time passes so slowly in there. By lunch time, I felt it should have been evening. Eventually, though, my husband got me out. I thought it would have been 5 or 6 in the evening, but it was only 1 p.m. Thankfully, it was a Monday, so I had my Celebrate Recovery family to go see that evening. That was truly a blessing, having the opportunity to be received by a group of people who can understand and comfort and help and love me unconditionally and be so supportive of me directly after something traumatic. These people had come to be closer to me than my own family.
A month or so later, my arraignment date was approaching. I was very nervous, but I had maintained in my heart that if I ended up going to jail, then God wanted me there for a reason. Maybe someone in there needed ministering to, or maybe it would help me grow in some way. Being arrested already diminished my pride greatly, so, as hard as it was, I made myself grateful for that. I had always reassured myself in my using days that even though I was bad, I was never that bad. I had never gone to jail, so I was more in control than those who let themselves get caught. Ha ha. That was me, sitting chest deep in quicksand, looking down on the guy next to me who was neck deep, thinking I was better off. God nipped that in the bud.
On the morning of my arraignment, I left for the courthouse with my dad, leaving my husband at home with Kiley. Though terrified, I also had faith that God would take care of me and my family. Solemnly, I walked into the court room, finding seats near the front for me and my dad. Listening to all of the proceedings gave me time to become more nervous. I listened as a woman charged with the same offense was sentenced. At that point, I would have cried if I hadn't been in a 'deer-in-the-headlights' state. Finally, the judge had all those present for an arraignment file for a public defender, should they want one, as he took a recess. The bailiff passed the sheets out as a group of us shuffled from the court room to fill out the paper work. Returning to my seat, I resumed the position of cowering down low, as if it would make me invisible, hoping the judge would forget about the Rodgers, Hailey case, as he returned to the court room. The judge began to call the first in line on the list of arraignments, beginning with the last name of Anderson, but the district attorney politely interrupted him in order to give me a heart attack. "Before we begin, I would like to bring the Hailey Rodger's case to the stand." My heart stopped, and I shakily made my way to the defendant's table. Surely, they were about to throw me back in jail, for whatever reason. Why else would they go out of alphabetical order?
"The Prosecution moves to dismiss the charges against Mrs. Rodgers." I'm pretty sure my jaw was hanging open at this point. Even as the judge officiated it, "Case dismissed, you are free to go," I remained petrified. After an eternity, it sunk in, and I slunk toward the exit. My heart was finally released from it's prison of terror when my dad pat me on the back. I looked over and finally managed a meek smile. Realizing what had actually happened, my heart swelled with the joy only someone condemned but set free could feel. Reaching my car, I immediately called my husband to relay the grace that God had worked for us. I left the courthouse with a renewed belief that we are all sinners, no matter how good you have been or will be, and that some of us are lucky enough to get caught while others are sufferers of socially acceptable sins(like pride), and a new appreciation for the song Amazing Grace.
Have you ever endured something bad, but come out good on the other side, or experienced something miraculous? How about being humbled?
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