Oreos and Doritoos, phone numbers and home.

Wednesday, as I stood at the last Honor Roll Assembly of the year, with my phone on vibrate, the phone started to sound like a Wii Game.  I looked down and there were five missed call from Franklin and six text messages.

"Call Me ASAP."

I text back, "cannot, at school, honor roll."

"Call me.  ASAP.  ASAP. ASAP."

Ok, this sounds important.

I used my phone illegally in the school at the honor roll assembly.  What a rebel.

He picks up and I hear, "we have to be in the court room in an hour, today is the day."

What?

I am a planner.  I hadn't changed sheets, gone to the store, got his clothes out, nothing.

And then my inner voice took over and said, "get a flipping grip.  Those dirty sheets are better than his sheets.  Relax.  Stay calm."

I did.  And I have never experienced a day quite like this and I doubt I ever will.  Ever.  None of us.

We both arrived at the court house about the same time. 

This was like delivering your first child.  I had seen it on TV but really didn't know what to expect.

We walked into the court room which is way different than the traffic court room.  Way different.


And I felt like that scene in Animal House when they go to the club.  We did not belong there.

Again, "if you take your troubles to the market...."

Apparently, 10th grade is the year that people quit school and get into trouble, lots and lots of trouble.  Even the 34 year old cocaine addict was there with her mom.  And that southern judge looked down at the defendant and said, "aren't you a little old to be dragging your mother around to help you clean up you life?"

Next was the 18 year old who never graduated and owed six THOUSAND dollars in restitution.  The judge made getting his GED part of his probation.  That was after he gave him a lecture like even I have never given.

Finally, the "button" appears.   Let's just say that when the judge asked him if he had anything to say, I panicked.  The others said, "uhhhh, no."

Thankfully, the button did.  He was kind, gracious and authentic.  And well spoken.

The judge asked him if his parents were in the court room.  Of course he said yes. 

Then the judge says, "Come up here."

OMG.  I was as calm as I could be and I had NO idea what to expect next.

"Identify yourselves and tell me about your son."  This scene is Franklin's worse nightmare.  Speaking in front of people, and a Superior Court Judge no less.

So, I started.  I can honestly say that I only remember one thing that I said," My son is very handy around the house, and helps me a lot.  He is much handier than his father and I have several things that need fixed."  That is it, that is all I remember and really, what a stupid thing to say.  But, I did.

And as Franklin started to speak, I noticed a woman with huge tears streaming down her face.  "Really, you have sat here a million times in this court room  and you are crying?"

And then the judge gave our son the biggest gift of his life.  Ever. 

The "button" was sent down stairs and we left and waited for his release.

Without getting into the specifics of the case, the "button" can vote and he was awarded handsomely for 10 months in summer camp.

I hugged my husband outside the doors of that court room.  This part was over.  For all of us.  And we did it together.  It made us stronger.  There were so many blessing that came out of that court room and out of the attached summer camp building.

While we waited, I made a trip to the kind people who greeted me each visitation day and thanked them.  While I was there, a lady that comes in AFTER visitation says to me, "do you have another son?"

"Yes, and he was here yesterday.
"I knew it, well, I thought I knew it. We were so uncomfortable, we didn't know what to do with his peers and we were worried for him and we just were a wreck.  We said hello to him because we were he was the "button's" brother but we didn't know what to do."  

"It was fine, it was all fine."

"I know, he came back down and looked at us and said, "he was sleeping."  It broke my heart."

  
  And then I left.  I wanted out of there.  For good.  I wanted to go to the store and buy kiwi, milk, Oreos and  Dorritos for my son.  I wanted a family dinner.  On a Wednesday.

And so I did.    As I walked out of the store, my husband called me.  After all the calmness of the day, his news sent me into a sobbing, hysterical moment.

Right there, in broad daylight, at the Lowe's Foods parking lot, I had my meltdown.  This was highlight film for the security crew when they watched me on the security film.

My husband called to tell me that a bailiff searched him out and handed him a phone number.  It was the phone number of the lady in the court room who was crying while we spoke. The bailiff relayed that she too has had a "button" and she was so moved by us because she has never heard those kind of words and love and HOPE and she wanted to talk to us.  She said she "needed to fall in love with her son again."  She wanted to know what the seeds of greatness were.

After all of this, and all of the struggles, and the questions, and the feeling like we were never getting a break, and never getting out of our own way, and they feeling that we never, ever, ever should have started a blog, or let our story out, or that the results were going to be bad, all of it, I LOSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSST it.  I just cried my heart out.  That was it, it really is that simple, you have to fall in love with your child again and she got it and had the courage to ask for help.."

I called her.  She said it was the words, "seeds of greatness, heart at peace, walking forward and I love my son more than he can ever love his drugs" that sent her into tears.

Thank you Anasazi.  They told us at Anasazi that it takes about six months to let the lessons penetrate hearts.  We were a little behind but they had penetrated nonetheless.

I got my act together and drove home.

Walker burst through that door like a sheriff in a bar room salon from an old western with a big grin on his face.  He looked around and I said, "He is not here."

He slumped his shoulders and went into the kitchen.  He was disappointed.  I know he read my text messages from Frank and was expecting him.

  He opened up the cabinet and saw two things, Oreos and Dorritos.

I heard him say to Addie, "He is coming home.  There are Oreos and Dorritos here."

And about ten minutes later, they heard TWO car doors in the driveway.