Tranece’s Story:
One day last fall, I took a break from my busy life and went outside, soaking in the warm sunshine and reflecting on what had happened on that exact date seven years ago.
I was blissfully in love. My fiancé Terrence had just asked me the day before to spend the rest of my life with him. I had no idea one of the worst days of my life would follow one of the best.
As I sat in class at Bible college, my phone began to ring repeatedly. I quietly snuck out of the classroom and hesitantly pushed the button.
“Hello,” I said slowly.
“Hi Mom,” my eighteen-year-old son said. The tone of his voice immediately alerted me that something terrible had happened. I braced myself for bad news, but I never would have guessed that what he disclosed to me would change our lives forever.
“I’ve…” he started. “I’m …”
I felt myself breaking into a sweat as he struggled to find words.
“I’m in jail, Mom,” he managed to get out.
“What’d you do?” I asked. At first, I felt relieved, hoping he had gotten into some minor trouble like so many times before. But this time would be much different.
“I’ve been…” He hesitated again, struggling to find words for something so horrible. “I’ve been arrested,” he whispered, “on suspicion of murder.”
I felt like I was having organ failure. Is this really happening? I wondered. Panic rose inside me.
While I struggled to believe what he was saying, I began to ask him questions, but he couldn’t discuss the case over the phone.
We hung up. Wearing my new clothes of shame, I had no desire to return to my class. Instead, I wandered to Terrence’s classroom and began to look for an opportunity to get his attention. There he was at the back of the room, listening to the professor and completely unaware what he’d gotten himself into when he proposed.
How could I tell him? How could I not tell him? How would I tell him? What would he say next?
Could we even move forward with the wedding and marriage we had only yesterday so joyfully anticipated?
As my thoughts whirled, I crept into the back of the classroom and tapped Terrence on the shoulder.
“Can you come with me?” I whispered. It was so uncharacteristic of me to leave class early and to interrupt Terrence during a lecture that he immediately knew something was really off. With a frog in my throat and tears in my eyes, I told Terrence about what I had just learned.
With sadness in his eyes, Terrence gave me a big hug. “I’ll walk with you through this,” he assured me.
I squeezed his hand as tears ran down my face. “But you didn’t sign up for this,” I said.
“Yes, I did sign up for this,” he argued. He hugged me. “When I said ‘I love you,’ I agreed to love your two sons too. I still love you, and I still want us to get married.”
For the next several months, I felt jerked around on a high-speed roller coaster of emotions. Just as I would begin to get excited about planning some part of the wedding, I would remember the reason I couldn’t enjoy anything. Knowing my son awaited trial depleted my energy and killed my zest for life.
I obsessively researched the man my son had allegedly fatally stabbed during an altercation. I even found pictures of the wife and daughter he left behind. Unwanted thoughts about the case interrupted and tortured me when I least expected them. Over and over I asked myself, How could I love my son if he did this? How would I ever forgive him if he did this horrific act?
While my mom encouraged me to keep planning a beautiful wedding, I couldn’t stop wondering about the case. Moving on with our wedding and my life felt impossible. In desperation, I asked the Lord to change my perspective and help me handle this trauma. My son needed my unconditional love more than ever, so I asked God also to help me walk with my son through the most difficult time in his life.
Though I continued to battle feelings of shame, Terrence, my family and my church family rallied around me in prayer and support. Some friends even sat with me through certain court dates. As Terrence and family members reminded me of all the ways I had been a great mother to my older sons, my hopelessness slowly began to shift.
I began to see myself and my accused son through God’s lens of unconditional love. The book of Romans reminded me there was no condemnation for those in Christ Jesus (8:1) and that absolutely nothing would ever separate me from God’s love (8:35-39).
Over time, I realized that while there was breath in my son’s lungs, there was hope. Even if he were to spend the rest of his life in prison, the Lord could still bring beautiful things out of those ashes (Isaiah 61:3). I began to believe that I could, in fact, see God’s goodness again on this earth, including the celebration of my wedding to a wonderful man.
Now, seven years later, my godly husband Terrence and I are raising three small children together. My son was eventually sentenced to prison, but today he is walking with the Lord, and our relationship with each other is stronger than ever.
Seven years ago, my world fell apart. I could never have imagined then that one day, I would look back on my devastation and see the faithful hand of God.
