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Ten years ago my husband boarded a bus to New York to begin a three-month felon sentence for a crime he had not committed. He lived in a half-way "house" on 41st Street between 8th and 9th Avenues. He was interned each evening and weekends and did the reverse commute to his company in the early weekday mornings. He remained stoic and grateful that the maximum sentence of 150 years in prison had not been handed down. My fear for his safety and sanity gnawed in my stomach. My rage at the "justice system" and his former employer was scattered all over the place. Friends listened. I went back into therapy. Not only was I angry with "the system"; an organized crime figure had just been acquitted and it was all too ironic: I was angry with a good man for not being able to protect himself against false accusations. It's fine to be "innocent as a dove", but shouldn't one also be as "wise as a serpent"? However, in hindsight there was nothing he could have done other than what he did do: tell the truth. Watching helplessly while that 6'6" good man stand straight before the judge and heard: "I hereby sentence you to 3 months in a halfway house, for which you will pay one fourth of your monthly salary, 1,000 hours of community service, 3 years of probation and a fine of $10,000," left me speechless for a short while. He'd been betrayed by his co-workers, and the system. There was no justice. Even then I was identified with people living on the margins who are subject to injustice regularly. We are part of the privileged class with access to power, whatever power this is, it belongs to "the system itself". However, Vernon had inner God-given power. Recently we found the file containing letters from thrity-five friends testifying to his good character. How good it was then and it is now to know what others think of him. These friends prayed for him and for me the whole time; it was the power of their truth and their prayers that got us through our suffering. In this sense, we are very much like the underprivileged whose faith, families and communities strengthen them. While living on 41st Street, Vernon sometimes shopped, even cooked Swedish pancakes for his fellow inmates. He listened to their stories, job counseled, and like them bore the indignity of frequent urine drug checks, the random changes in scheduling times to check in, the constant light and city noises with grace and fortitude. Returning home physically and emotionally drained, living faithfully, he remained whole with his integrity in tact. His self image did not rest on being president of his company, because he knew his self worth rested with God. His conviction changed his life. He made the best of a situation neither of us could have imagined when we married: "for better or for worse". He lived through a wasteland experience without becoming bitter, mean or violent himself. lt's taken years of inner work and prayer for me to heal, whereas, Vernon felt God's steadfast presence sustaining him through his ordeal. There is no social restitution; society cannot pay him back for its justice system errors. Yet he remains kind and giving. Redemption occurred when he chose not to be bitter but to become even more loving and more spiritually and financially philanthropic. Vernon's life is faith at work. |
Psalm 71
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Marilyn Anderson writes from Short Hills NJ. Vernon resonates with Psalm 71