I sat quietly in the back of the court room, watching as each woman stood up one by one and answered the question, "How many days sober?" For one woman it was a mere 11 days. For another it was 4 years and so many days. I watched as one woman shared her story - how she had been adopted just days after being born, how her biological father had murdered her mother by slashing her pregnant body in half. I watched as one woman struggled to share the lyrics to a song she had written in her art therapy program, her means of releasing so much pain. I listened to their stories and I listened to their fears. I heard the patience in the judge's voice as he gently prodded each woman, drawing them out, inquiring about their progress and their setbacks.
And my heart couldn't decide whether to weep over their brokenness or rejoice in their slow, long march to restoration.
I had ventured into CATCH Court (Changing Actions to Change Habits) several weeks ago in order to catch a glimpse of this "restorative justice" in progress. I first contacted Doma back in February to inquire about volunteering, and then quickly followed up by attending one of their volunteer trainings and then another training focusing specifically on mentoring one of these women. The organization focuses on empowering women who have been victims of sex trafficking, primarily through the means of CATCH Court, which is a specialty docket court here in Columbus. After I had attended the mentoring training, a Doma staff member suggested I attend CATCH Court, just to get a feel for the scope of what these women go through and how the process actually works.
These women typically voluntarily opt-in to CATCH, oftentimes in lieu of jail time. By being a part of CATCH, these women agree to a series of guidelines, including attending court every Thursday and adhering to the boundaries set by their case workers, counselors, sponsors and the judge, Judge Paul Herbert.
I was amazed and humbled and awed by what I witnessed in that court room. After I left, and as I got in my car to drive down the highway, hot tears sprang to my eyes because I couldn't wrap my brain around what I had just witnessed. I couldn't wrap my brain around the addictions and the depravity and the abuse. And I couldn't wrap my brain around the grace and the mercy and the unfailing love of a God I do not fully understand.
When I was interviewing for a possible mentoring position with Doma, I had the opportunity to speak with one of the women, Sandy, who had recently graduated from CATCH. I was feeling so many insecurities about the possibility of mentoring, wondering what on earth I would have to offer these women. I have no idea what it's like to walk in their shoes - to battle back additions every moment of every day - to feel so desperate to survive that you'll do anything, including selling your own body to the next man who walks by. I have no idea how to relate and during the interview I suddenly felt overwhelmed by the prospect of entering into the lives of these women, feeling ill-equipped and inadequate for the task.
As I shared those fears with Sandy, she looked at me, pausing to gather her thoughts, and then she said one of the most profound things I have ever heard in my life:
"You don't need to know what it's like to have an addiction. Because I want to know what it's like to be sober. And you know how to do that."
It was like somebody had hit me with a 2x4. You don't need to know what it's like to have an addiction because I want to know what it's like to be sober. All of my insecurities dealt with in one concise and gentle nudge. I'm sure I continued to gape at her, amazed at the wisdom pouring out of her mouth. And I'm sure it was a simple way of her telling me to get over myself. I frequently need that reminder as well.
I don't know where this adventure leads from here. I'm not sure the stories that will come my way as I enter into the lives of these women. But I imagine I will learn far more from them than I will ever be able to teach them.
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