God Sends Signs

Even at rock bottom, God sends signs.

I remember tripping on the step of the Eugene Police Department. In all that chaos, the canine — a beautiful dog — kissed me. Right there on the ground. In the middle of the ordeal with all the county law enforcement, whether it was the sheriff or the police, I still drank water. I stayed hydrated. I stayed me.

In Douglas County, they gave me the brown bag: an egg, a bread item, a powder substance that worked with water. I didn’t eat that nasty jail food. I didn’t drink the milk. I didn’t “go” one time in custody. Just water. I kept my body as clean as I could, even in there.

I stayed in custody in Douglas County until a woman in a suit with white tennis shoes opened the door.

The night before, there was a loud sound — shoes with heels in that cell causing a commotion. So when I saw soft tennis shoes, I knew: that was a sign of negotiation. Peace. And she smiled.

Even in jail, God speaks. Through a dog’s kiss. Through water. Through white tennis shoes instead of heels.

Your dignity doesn’t leave you just because you’re in custody. Your spirit is still yours. Your choices are still yours. And sometimes, freedom starts with a smile and an open door.

I rose from that. From the ashes. From the concrete step. From the brown bag. Now I’m the butterfly. Whole. Healed. Free.