22
My Emancipation Proclamation
Despite all the problems in my life, I was growing stronger. For the past year, I felt as if God had been stretching me, teaching me to stand up for myself, to become assertive and do what I needed to do. But it was extremely difficult.
After the worship service on December 6, I went for prayer, and Pastor Mark Davis prayed for me. He offered mentoring and counseling with his wonderful wife, Karen. That was the beginning of a long and fruitful relationship. Pastor Mark made sure that my daughter and I were taken care of.
On December 8, 2010, I was voted in as vice president of a local anti–human trafficking coalition by members of federal and local law enforcement such as the FBI and the Department of Homeland Security. As low as I felt in my personal life, God was building me up in my professional life to be someone I could never have imagined in my wildest dreams.
The worse the divorce process became, the more I yearned to serve God. For me, serving the Lord was the best pain medicine. I was not addicted to anything, so serving him became my way of releasing the pain I felt from my divorce. I asked him to take me anywhere I could serve him; in fact, I said, “Lord, the deeper, the darker, the better.”
Christmas came before our final court appearance. Many people were especially kind. Women in Distress gave me gift cards and provided a Christmas tree and presents for Diana and me. About a week before Christmas, a staff member from the church connected to my daughter’s school visited and gave me three hundred dollars in gift cards. He told me that it was because the pastor had a heart for single moms and didn’t want them to go through Christmas in need. That gesture touched my heart, and I broke into tears.
When we finally went to trial, Joel refused to settle. I think Joel’s lawyer insisted on mediation to find out what I wanted before our case was heard. I only got through the mediation because I was taking a class on mediation for my PhD at the time. I could no longer afford a lawyer and had to represent myself in the mediation process. Joel’s lawyer argued before the judge that my restraining orders were dismissed because they were false.
“The first one was dismissed because he pressured me not to show up,” I said. “And there had been a temporary restraining order because the judge and I didn’t want my son to sit in the court and hear everything.”
The judge didn’t seem to care about my explanations. That trial lasted nine hours. I had scraped together just enough for a kind Christian lawyer to represent me since I did not qualify for any kind of legal assistance.
We were supposed to have the final divorce hearing and agree on the outcome on January 11, 2011. But Joel’s lawyer and the judge had already decided on the dissolution decree weeks before.
My lawyer and I went to the court to attend the final hearing, only to meet Joel and his lawyer and learn what had happened.
“Why did you get a copy and I didn’t?” I asked.
The decree had been ordered and signed on December 28, without making my lawyer or me aware so we could be present to hear it.
We learned that the judge had moved to a criminal court and was no longer serving in the family court system. No one had told us in advance. Therefore, there was no need for a hearing—it had already been decided.
The worst part is that the divorce decree said we had joint custody and I had to pay Joel twenty-six dollars a month in child support. “How am I supposed to pay you when I don’t even make enough to live on?” I asked him.
He got the house, which would have been impossible for me to keep since I couldn’t afford to pay the mortgage. Besides, I wanted my kids to keep their house. Joel also kept the business. Although we shared joint custody of our daughter, who was still a minor, because of school Diana lived with me during the week.
I felt defeated financially, and yet I had the deep-seated assurance that even at that low point God was with me.
I could have fought it, but I didn’t. The ordeal had taken two and a half years. But at last, on January 11, 2011, which was also National Human Trafficking Awareness Day, I was finally free.
Free!
A few weeks after that, while getting my tire repaired at Giant Tire through our church’s ministry to single parents, I spoke to the owner, Bob, who was a Christian. I mentioned I had gone through a divorce. “We got the papers back, and it’s not fair that I have to pay him child support. Most men have to deal with this, not women. Especially not women who have been abuse victims.”
“You can file a modification,” he said. “It’s an amendment to the divorce.”
“I can?”
“Why don’t you go back over to the courthouse and file one?”
Because I didn’t know where to start, I went to the self-help clinic at the court. “How does this process work?” I asked the woman at the desk. “I’m confused.”
Patiently, she explained everything. “If you come in with your ex-husband, you don’t have to go through another trial. If the two of you agree, you can go before the judge and he’ll sign it without any lawyers present.”
“I want to get these twenty-six dollars off the record,” I said, almost in tears. “I can’t afford to pay him money. Besides that, it’s wrong.” I was already struggling to make ends meet and had to move out of our comfortable two-bedroom to find something more affordable.
That same day, Dr. Rev. Raul Fernandez-Calienes from the law school told me about a one-bedroom apartment he owned in a quiet, secure neighborhood. When he told me the price, I added and subtracted inside my head and realized that I could figure out how to pay that amount from my school loans. The next day, my daughter and I moved there.
Before long, God did yet another miracle for me.
A few days later, someone knocked on my door.
The man introduced himself and said he was from the bank. “The house is going into foreclosure,” he said. The judge had kept my name on the mortgage, so I was also being served.
I didn’t want that to happen, so I told him, “I didn’t know about this. Give me a few days and I’m sure we can straighten it out.”
As soon as he left, I called Joel. “I got the foreclosure papers,” I said.
He knew about it, of course, and started to explain.
“I can help you save the house,” I said, interrupting him.
“How?”
Instead of a direct answer, I said, “Let’s meet at Dunkin’ Donuts in twenty minutes.”
I was praying and sincerely believed God had guided me to get that self-help packet for an addendum. This time the law would work in my favor.
We sat across from each other, and Joel was obviously ill at ease and angry. For the first time, I knew I could handle his attitude and stay calm.
For several minutes, I let him talk. He explained how and why he didn’t pay the mortgage and insisted it was because he had to pay his lawyer, although I felt the real reason was that he didn’t want me to keep the house in case it was awarded to me during the divorce.
As soon as he paused, I leaned across the table. “You hurt me a lot through this divorce and in our marriage. But I will help you keep the house if you help me get rid of this erroneous child support.”
He didn’t answer.
I stared straight at him in a way I’d never done before. “You know what you did to me was wrong. You know you should be paying me child support.” I sat there and, instead of being angry, I was filled with compassion for him.
Joel agreed to go to court with me.
His answer shocked me, and at that moment I felt even deeper compassion for him. I was able to look past the pain and say, “I forgive you. I forgive you and I want to help you keep the house for our kids to live in.”
Although he wore sunglasses, I could see the tears falling beneath them. Unable to hold back, he started sobbing. He asked why I was being so good to him.
I said, “I forgive you, and we’re going to fix it. We’ll save the house for you and for the kids. And you know what? I’m not going to dwell on this anymore. I forgive you and God still loves you.”
He was amazed at my response, and truthfully, so was I.
I put my hand on his and I prayed for him. That was the beginning of my healing.