The Elderly Woman in the Courthouse

Sometimes the best stories never get to be told to the masses.

I spent this week shuttling in and out of courtrooms and gathering facts for what turned out to be 10 front page news stories (Links to the stories run down the left side of this blog). The stories offer glimpses of real courtroom drama that unfolded this week. There are several stories about a murder trial and even more about an unsuccessful wrongful death lawsuit against a leading seat belt manufacturer. A couple of the stories are about a man who mismanaged a woman's estate after her death and received punishment for his actions.

I uncovered another story that will never have a headline or make it to the front page. The story is essentially about a single bright ray of sunshine. It is about how the love of God works in the lives of people to bring them hope during the darkest times of their lives.

On the first day of the murder trial, I noticed an elderly woman, I believe she was in her early 80s, sitting in the front row of the courtroom. She had a sweetness about her that could be seen. She seemed out of place to me so I asked her why she was in the courtroom.

"I just came to see what happens in this trial," she said.

I found out later that this lady was a jail ministry volunteer and for the past 18 months had been visting the jail and teaching the defendant in the case about the Gospel of Jesus Christ. She had told the 25-year-old woman that she would attend her trial and would pray for her throughout the whole experience.

It was not an easy trial to sit through, but that lady was there for all four days. She was there when the defendant's family was not. She was there for the stomach turning testimony of the medical examiner. She was there for the guilty verdict.

The defendant frowned or was straight-faced throughout the whole trial, except for the time when I saw her enter the courtroom, catch they eye of her elderly friend and smile warmly at her.

I will not share the name of the elderly woman out of respect for her wishes, but I began speaking with her regularly during the second day of the trial and tried several times to convince her to let me do a story about the good things she was doing. She, however, wanted no recognition for her small acts of kindness.

On the third day of the trial she told me that she had just been downstairs and saw the man I had written about who was being punished for mismanaging a woman's trust fund. She had known the man since he was a youth and when she saw him she stopped and greeted him and they shared a warm embrace.

"I think he really needed a hug," she told me. "He needed to know that although he made a mistake that God still loves him."

Later that day she met the mother of the woman who was eventually convicted of murder and sentenced to life in prison. In the hall of the courthouse she stopped the mother, gave her a big hug and told her how much she cared about her daughter and how much she hurt for the both of them. The hug was a simple gesture but there was a power in it that I have rarely witnessed.

A few minutes later the woman told me with tears in her eyes that during a prayer that morning she had asked God to allow her to have an opportunity to give the mother a hug.

After hearing her tell me this, I was just about ready to beg her to allow me to tell her story, but then I had a better idea. I told her to pray about whether she should allow me to write her story for the newspaper and promised to talk to her about her feelings the next day. I just knew that after telling so many tragic stories over the past week, I was going to be able to tell a much more uplifting and positive story soon. And it had the potential to be an award winning story.

Before I went to bed that night, I said a prayer. I started to pray for the elderly woman at the courthouse when I had the distinct feeling that I would not be telling her story in a newspaper. I have enough experience with this type of answer to prayer that I knew to trust the feeling I had had.

The next day I approached the woman before the trial began, extended my hand to her and smiled and said "I already know what your answer is." I told her about my prayer and the answer I had received. She smiled and I could tell she was relieved. We talked briefly and enjoyed a brief laugh together before we parted ways.

I may never see this woman again, but I will never forget the sunbeam that brightened the halls of the courthouse for nearly an entire week. She made me want to be a sunbeam, too.