Always an Opportunity

I doubt anyone, except lawyers and judges, feels comfortable in a court of law.  Although my case was not without its repercussions, it was not as ugly or contentious as others I heard that day.  The cases were mostly family issues tended by a judge who was either too tired of her job or going through some serious issues herself.  She was not pleasant, patient or kind.  Far from it.  She scolded everyone for the most minor things, such as not speaking clearly or not giving her the documents she asked for as quickly as she wanted them.  Her behavior was perfunctory, rude, impatient and unfeeling.  I suppose I expected a little different from her since this was family court after all.

A woman in her late 50s approached the bench.  She felt lucky, she told the judge, because the judge spoke Spanish.  Obviously I understood her.  She told a very exasperated judge that her daughter and son-in-law were in jail and would not be out for seven years.  She needed to take custody of her granddaughter.  The judge kept barking questions at her: ‘why did you bring the child with you?’ ‘Because I had no one to leave her with.’ ‘Where are your orders?’  ‘I don’t know what that means.’ ‘Do you think your daughter will contest this?’ ‘Ummm, no, she’s in jail for at least seven years.  I’m the only family my granddaughter has.’  Then she barraged this humble lady with more questions that she didn’t have a clue how to answer.  ‘Do you have an attorney?  Are you going to get one?  Did you notify your daughter?  When did you do that?  You have to notify her again.  Do you have new orders?  Do you know what orders are?  If you don’t know someone needs to tell you what they are.  You have to get them from the library.  You can’t come into my court without orders.’  The woman was reduced to nothing; didn’t have a thing to say.  The judge handed her a piece of paper telling her a court date had been set.  As she walked away holding her little granddaughter’s hand I couldn’t help but feel compassion for her.  She needed help.  I handed her my name and telephone number on a piece of paper and told her she should call me and I would explain to her what she needed to do.  She smiled at me through her tear-stained face and just said, ‘I will call you.  My name is Juanita.’ 

Today I’m grateful that, if we ask Him, God always gives us a tender heart and the opportunity to help others.