As the days ticked down, I waited impatiently for my name to be called… I found myself praying over and over again about this next step… How impromptu, how unpredictable, and how nerve-wracking it was going to be. Instead of the Christian program I wanted to go to, I was being forced (court ordered) to go to a program with 100 versions of myself. The majority of which were the negative version. Near the very end of my incarceration, I had called the woman who saved me from my captors and whose prayers saved my soul….. Even though it would be a bit longer of a journey, I still had a place in the women of living in liberty’s hearts and therefore, I’d have a home as long as I kept making the next right decision.
While waiting for my name to be called day after day, I continued to struggle with how I would cope. I had so much anxiety about all the other people who were going to be at the rehab. They all had normal clothes, hygiene items, shoelaces, dental floss etc. Because I had hurt my family and pushed them away unintentionally, they were no longer willing to do much of anything for me, not until I had more time under my belt of keeping myself sober. This realization set in and out of sadness and anxiety, I prayed and I vented… But, I need not have because my street savior, without a moment of hesitation offered to bring me everything I would need. Again, it was God whispering…”I’m here and I will keep you safe and give you everything you will need. Just trust in Me.”
And then came the hardest moment of my life: Going from the county jail, to a van in street clothes, not knowing where this journey was about to take me, not knowing what all would happen, not knowing what all I would “miss” in the old ways of my life. But, what I did know was what God had shown me over and over again …. If I just put one foot in front of the other, put my heart in His hands, and genuinely climb up into His lap during prayer like that still innocent child my soul was on the inside…. That He would take care of me.