Waiting

I spent the next few days in the anxious-yellow saferoom with my friend Carol. We prayed, we listened to worship music, we paced, we counted the cement blocks, we joked around, and we did a lot of waiting. I visited with my high school softball coach who testified during the trial. She talked about how she wished I would have asked for help. I talked about how I wished I could have asked. People came in and out, speculating on the verdict, and encouraging me to wait well.

And then both sides rested and it was time for the panel to deliberate and find a verdict. All of a sudden the yellow saferoom was full of waiters, and my anxiety was rising rapidly as I realized that I had more resting on the verdict than I had realized. All along I had told myself that my job was to speak the truth - period, and that the verdict would not change what had happened. But when the moment arrived, I realized how disappointed I would feel should the jury acquit him. The prosecutor, Michael, began to second guess his own work, and started to prepare me should the prosecution have failed to meet their burden of proof. We prayed. We worshipped. We paced. We waited.