The Image
Handcuffed
Raven Buck
The early morning phone call jolted me awake. The sun wasn’t even awake yet; this couldn’t be good. Early morning phone calls were something you never wanted to hear. They either meant someone had died or that someone was in the hospital. This occasion, however, was different.
“Mommy, who was on the phone?” I asked.
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Not answering my question, she replied, “Get dressed. We have to go.”
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“We have to go now?” It was so early in the morning; I didn’t understand what was so important that I had to abandon my warm, comfy bed.
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The next thing I knew, my mom and I had arrived at a dreary, sad-looking place. Everyone here had an ominous look on their face. Normally, when I would flash my little four-year-old smile at a grown-up, their countenance would always brighten, and they would gladly return a smile. But this place was different. No one returned my smile. This was jail.
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The early morning phone call had come from my biological mother, Amelia. She had once again landed herself in jail. She was heavily addicted to drugs, and it was always getting her into trouble. And this time, she needed my adopted mom to bail her out.
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This was my first memory of Amelia: bailing her out of a county jail.
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I sat on a black chair, waiting while my mom went through security to get Amelia. My mom had to give her purse to security before she could go in, and she couldn’t even have anything in her pockets. I didn’t understand why they were taking away her belongings; she wasn’t the one in jail. I waited there in my black, uncomfortable chair, and an officer, my mom, and Amelia soon appeared at the front. I was happy to see that security gave my mom her purse back. They even gave Amelia a clear bag with her belongings in it. At last, her time-out was over.
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When we left the jail, Amelia walked far ahead of us on the sidewalk with her head downcast. I didn’t understand why she was walking so far ahead. When I asked my mom about it, she said Amelia was sad and embarrassed about the situation. I didn’t understand. I had been in time-out before and was always happy to get out of the time-out chair. No one is supposed to be upset after a time-out.
It was at this point I decided to go talk to Amelia about her experience. Besides, I thought I knew everything about jail from my occasional interaction with the show COPS. I excitedly skipped up to Amelia and exuberantly asked, “Amelia! Did you get handcuffed?!”
Clearly caught off guard by my enthusiasm, she mumbled, “Um…yeah…”
“Amelia!! THAT. IS. SO. COOL!” I exclaimed. Whenever I watched COPS, I always saw a police officer put handcuffs on a person; I thought it must be a tradition. In that moment, I thought Amelia was the coolest person in the world. Amelia didn’t share my excitement, but I didn’t let that bring me down. I figured she must have still been bummed out about having to spend the night in time-out at jail. Maybe she missed a sleepover or something.
Though that day happened over 23 years ago, I spent a lot of time in my life reflecting on that day. Of course, as I got older, the memory of bailing Amelia out of jail didn’t spark joy anymore. I had learned the reality of the situation, and instead of being elated over handcuffs, my heart was saddened. Handcuffs were no longer a “tradition,” as my four-year-old mind once saw it. Instead, they were a bondage of guilt and shame.
I’ve often heard the phrase “like mother, like daughter,” but this statement doesn’t accurately represent me and Amelia. We have both decided to cling to something in our lives, but what we have chosen to cling to is vastly different and produced different outcomes. Amelia was, by addiction, handcuffed to drugs, but, by choice, I am bound to Jesus.
Life has taught me that everyone is handcuffed to something. It’s in our nature to cling to something or someone. However, unlike Amelia, I’ve chosen to cling to something that will take me farther than drugs ever will. I am handcuffed to the Living God who writes my destiny and guides my footsteps. This is the father who will never leave or abandon me and won’t shame me for my faults and mistakes. Instead, He forgives me and shows me how to do better.
I know it sounds odd, but I am grateful that my first memory of my biological mother is bailing her out of jail. This vivid memory serves as a reminder for me to keep close to Jesus. Amelia’s choices and consequences taught me how much destruction can follow when a person turns from God. That’s the thing about choices. They aren’t single, isolated choices; each has a ripple effect on our other choices and decisions in life. Amelia's introduction to drugs caused a ripple effect of broken dreams, lost children, incarceration, addiction, and shame. How much more of a ripple effect can clinging to Jesus produce? I’m glad to say that Amelia has since learned the ripple effect of a life surrendered to Jesus: fulfillment in the place of broken dreams, freedom in the place of addiction, and forgiveness and peace in the place of condemnation and shame. No one is ever too far gone, and there is never a handcuff strong enough that Jesus can’t set free.