Judgment Day

After 2 weeks of waiting and dreading, I was making my trip to the court. Despite of all assuring effort from friends and family, I was still antsy about appearing before the officials. The night before my anxiety had become so intense that I could not think of anything but the court appointment: what would I say, what should I do and most importantly what would the judge find me. For others, my excessive apprehension was not only incomprehensible but also incredulous. I could see it from their eyes after my third, ok maybe 4th, attempts to seek comfort and support. Their dismissal look told me they had moved on and so should I. If only I could! I agonized silently, wondering if they would take it this slightly had the table been turned.

I had taken off a day from work even though the court hearing was set as early as 8:30am. It felt like the whole world had deserted me, my sleep included, leaving me melancholy and most sadly alone. I fussed over the clothes selections, fought with my GPS and fretted all the way to the court. A fine spring day, the weather was fair and clear, in contrast to the stormy turmoil inside of me. I paid no tribute to the gleaming sunshine on the sky, the historical downtown architecture or the manicured trees and shrubs along the side walk. My heart heavy and my mind distracted, I wanted nothing but the verdict be given and done with. Finally, there it stood – my worst fear and tormentor for the past 2 weeks – the courthouse so solemn and ready to condemn. I walked in with the rest of the guilty, wondering if they were as unsettling as I was. Their silent and blank looks told me absolutely nothing, which unfortunately made my poor heart sink even further.

I had been to the court exactly 2 times: one to get married and another one when I swore in my allegiance as a new addition for this country. This 3rd time might be “the charm” but definitely nothing “charming” with me being summoned as the law offender. I sat dejectedly among a roomful of the guilty though presumed innocent under the law, waiting to plead our cases before the judge. One by one we were called – some with a quick verdict and some with a small scale of drama as in movies or TV shows. What fascinated me were those that were accompanied by their counselors. Were they there for the gravity of their offenses? I wondered. Surely it must be nice to have someone professional, not to mention “legal”, to aid and plead for you in time like this! Like now. I thought forlornly. Here we sat, except for those accompanied by their lawyers, with but a seat or two from one another, together yet completely alone. And if there is anything worse than life’s trials and tribulation, it’d be facing them alone.

An hour and 30 minutes later, I was finally called. My heart pumping hard, I approached the bench. What do you plead? Guilty. I heard myself humbly reply, followed by my prepared speech, which I had rehearsed a hundred times: Your honor, it was my fault, (etc, etc.) I had a clean record (another etc.). He reached for my evidence and as all friends and family had predicted, fined me with the court fee and a 6-month probation. I was dismissed in 2 minutes.

The worst was over. By the mercy of the judge, I walked out almost cleared but definitely free. My debt paid, I stepped back to the sunny, glorious outside, ready to join the society. Suddenly, I noticed the sky blue, the lawn green and blossom bright. I took in a deep breath of air and realized finally what free smelled like. The court behind me, I continued on to the parking lot and vowed resolutely to stay free – not for the 6-month probation alone, but hopefully for good – so I would never have to return here. Somehow, I knew, three was not a charm. I am destined to go to another hearing despite of all my good intent and effort. That final appearing, unfortunately, will render me no probation. The verdict would be in – no plea or remorse would acquit me of this life’s misconducts. If I had been so terrified with this court, what would I feel with that final judgment day? My heart that was just lifted seconds ago sank down as my pace hesitated. I thought of those fellow accused back there with their lawyers and wondered if I would be privileged enough to afford one then and there. My guilt may be great, but I had to cling to the greater hope in that just as the gift of faith came free, my Counselor’s service there would be too.

I started my car and drove on. The second chance was given. From now on let it be a brand new, good citizen back on the road: both in the driver’s seat and life.