Seven women showed up for my church service at the jail last night, a wide mix of ages, colors and appearances. 

Outward appearances are always deceptive, one never sees the strength of the tides, currents and undertows below a seemingly calm surface.

 Prolonged struggle, deep anguish and hardship leaves its mark on the countenance: it extinguishes the light inside, and it's almost always visible.  

The meeting went well, and one woman approached me after and asked to talk, where she shared with me that her 13 year old daughter Emma, had attempted suicide: she survived with no permanent consequences, but it was close. The kind of close that leaves a mother replaying every second in her mind, wondering which breath might have been her child’s last. There are no words to describe the alarm in her voice; she was overwhelmed with anguish and helplessness, and with fearful, searching eyes looked to me to give her the answers she so desperately sought.

When she told me the story I pictured one of my granddaughters,  and I felt a gale force wave of helplessness surge over me, recognizing this little girl is completely out of reach of her Mother's consoling arms of love as she sits incarcerated on some petty, first offense misdemeanor, unable to even communicate with her child. The distance between them felt cruel and suffocating. My mind went blank and I just began to gush prayers with her and we pled for Christ's rescuing hand of protection.

I'm not sure I've ever felt so impotent, it haunts me... 

Emma has been provided counseling and her Mother hopes to be released in two days, the longest two days this woman will ever endure!

So as I drove home, with Emma and her Mother racing through my mind, so many unanswered questions running through my mind left me with one hope, the mercy of God.