A SMALL PART OF MY TESTIMONY

After each relapse I've been through, there have been four, there was a wake of destruction that I left behind me. Restoring, to the best of my ability, that destruction meant accepting personal responsibility for my actions and the consequences of those actions. Accountability is part of accepting personal responsibility, and it meant facing the consequences of those actions. I remember letting my family, my daughter in particular know that after her wedding I'd be going away for quite awhile. See I'd had some criminal matters out of state, and I had absconded knowing that I would be spending a minimum of two year's in the Texas department of corrections. I honestly didn't want to face this matter, but experience has shown me that eventually we reap what we sow, and that I would be much better off facing the problem and just doing the time rather than waiting until they caught me. In other words I decided to take responsibility and face the consequences of my actions on my terms. So I started several weeks in advance, getting my affairs in order, talking to my children, preparing them for the fact that I would be going away, and I called the probation and parole office in Texas and told them I'd be turning myself in. I remember her saying okay, just go into any jail and turn yourself in, snickering. I'm sure she probably didn't think I would, but about a week after my daughter's wedding, after I'd finally come to terms and found an inner peace through much prayer, that's exactly what I did. I had my daughter and her husband take me to the jail, four hundred miles from Houston where I was actually wanted, and I walked in and told them I was wanted in Texas and that I was there to turn myself in. I'll never forget the look on the booking officer's face, but they made a phone call and sure enough they told them that they would definitely extradite me, so I gave my daughter and hug and a kiss for the last time, with tears in my eye's I told her I loved her and was so very proud of her, and I was booked in to be extradited to Texas......... not long items with white lace decorated
Little did I know that the trip I was about to embark on would be the most miserable journey I'd ever take. I don't know if anyone knows the extradition process, but it's not a simple procedure, even if you wave your right to an extradition hearing, as I did knowing the process and just wanting to do my time, it's still a tedious, time consuming process, but low and behold less that two weeks after waiving extradition there was a fugitive transport bus there at the county jail to take me back to Houston. Now you'd think that four hundred miles on a bus would be tolerable, but that's just not how the fugitive transportation system works. You don't just get on and go to your destination, you get on a bus, shackled to your individual, hard seat, no cushion, in a sub zero temperature environment, to keep the bacteria down, no blanket, and you zigzag across the southwestern United States, twenty four hours a day, as the guards have bunks up front and sleep in shifts, seven days a week, only stopping at McDonald's twice a day, for biscuits in the morning, and a couple of cheeseburgers at night, until you get close to your destination. The only time you are unshackeled is to use the bathroom, and if they happen to stop at a federal penal institution to allow you to shower, if you've been on the bus for too long. There were some on there who said they'd been there close to a month, even been through a guard rotation which happens every three weeks, but I guess I was one of the lucky ones, my trip only took a week. A freezing, miserable, nightmarish week, on a bus with people charged and convicted of every major felony you can imagine, including murder.
Having to face the same judge who had told me very plainly that if I did not meet the conditions of my probation and ended up back in his courtroom, that I would absolutely do a minimum of two year's, and potentially five in the Texas department of corrections was not a thought I relished. As a matter of fact, the closer we got to finally reaching Houston, the more my stomach was knotted and twisted. I'd been in one fight when we stopped one evening to shower in Texarkana, some young guy wanting to take on the big man and make a name for himself. I'm 6'7" 300 lbs, and I guess he figured if he could take me it would look good where he was going, and maybe nobody would mess with him. I didn't hurt him really, just held him in a headlock until the guards separated us, but I was actually kinda intimidated when the guy decided to jump me so I held him so tight in a headlock that it bruised my ribs, and I remember feeling like I might have a heart attack. He didn't mess with me again though.
The morning had finally gotten there, and even though I had prayed fervently for month's over the matter, and I trusted God completely, who had put my heart at ease over the matter, my stomach was still in knots, and I was nervous, hoping this judge, the one they called the hanging judge, who'd told me he better never see me in his courtroom again, wouldn't make me do more than the two minimum. The thing about trusting God is this, just because we trust his will in our lives, doesn't mean his will, and what we want are the same things. And I had to be prepared that his will might mean I needed to do the maximum. The consequences of my actions are my burden to bear, he simply says that through him I can endure. And experience has shown me that this is absolutely true. Throughout all of the trials and tribulations of my life, I've yet to not overcome, and I firmly believe that even on the day that my spirit takes on its spiritual existence, through him, then too shall I overcome.
As I cleaned up for court that morning I continued to pray, seeking guidance and wisdom, and for just the right words to explain to the judge exactly why he was seeing my face back in his courtroom. As I watched each parole and probation violater go in front of him, none receiving mercy, and each getting the maximum violation, I'd come to the realization that this wasn't looking good. One after another getting no less than five, and a judge that looked much like I remembered him, very angry.......
I was still praying when I vaguely remember hearing my name called, I don't remember hearing the shackles rattling, it was almost as if I was being dragged, I looked up from the poteum in front of me as I heard him ask, "Mr Keeton, why are you back in my courtroom?", after all that praying, looking for the right words to say, that might somehow reach him so he might find leniency, there wasn't anything to say. Nothing would work, he'd heard it all, I was just another dope fiend to him.....
I said the only thing there was to say, "your honor, there's absolutely no excuse. There is no excuse good reason for me to be here. I didn't meet the conditions of my probation, and it's time for me to take responsibility for that, so I turned myself in and that's exactly what I'm doing". The word's had come out of my mouth, but it wasn't me speaking them, it was my voice, but not my word's. I remember watching the expression on the judge's face soften, and I know that people probably don't believe this, but up over the bench it was as information I saw it brighten up behind him, a soft white peaceful light. Instead of instantly just violating me as he had every other person before me, he began to look through my file in front of him, thumbing through the page's, looking up over his glasses and asking, "you turned yourself in from Arkansas? ", yes sir, I said, it took nine days though get here or I would have been here sooner. I was near the end of his case's for the day, so he suddenly looked up and said, "Mr. Keeton, before I can pass sentence I need to get your probation officer, the prosecutor and your attorney together, and go through your file, there's some questions I need answered, I'll recall you after lunch", yes sir was all in could muster to say. At that point he told the bailiff that he would need to call the jail and have me brought back over, as well as my probation officer after lunch. All in can think is this can't be a good thing.
Farah, my attorney had quickly explained to me again, as she had before, that under the plea arrangement, the violation would be aggressive minimum of two years, and at the judge's discretion up to five, she said she wasn't sure but she guessed he was trying to decide how long I would spend. At the jail all the other prisoners had told me I'd get the max, it didn't look good. I began to pray again......
When I was called back over to the courthouse, the only people in the courtroom was the judge, sitting behind the bench, still reading my file, my attorney, who had a tear in her eyes as I'd was brought in shackled, the prosecutor, my probation officer and the bailiff that had brought me back over from the jail. Farah had been very close with my daughter, and was my attorney during the original charges, haven't gotten me the plea arrangement that allowed me to go home to Arkansas, and seeing that she'd been crying didn't make me feel better, but an easy calm had come over me, and I was ready to accept my punishment. As I walked towards the podium the judge looked up over his glasses from my file and said, "Mr. Keeton, I've been talking to your probation officer, who verifies that you contacted her several weeks ago about turning yourself in, and that you subsequently did turn yourself in. You came into the courtroom this morning, and without excuse, took responsibility. I've never once in all the years I've been on the bench had that happen. Mr. Keeton, your attorney has told you that there is no discretion, under the plea arrangement, the minimum sentence is two full years before you can even be considered for parole"........
As I looked up and started to reply yes sir, I noticed the light was once again over the judge, his face no longer looked stern and angry, but rather soft and compassionate, and before I had the chance to respond he said, "unless this entire case just goes away", I could hear Farah behind me, crying again, I wasn't sure what was going on, or how to respond, "Mr. Keeton, please don't ever make me regret this, your welcome back in Texas any time, but for now, go home to your children", I looked around, still not sure exactly what just happened, my probation officer was smiling, Farah was crying, and suddenly so was I, Farah gave me a hug and said "I've never seen him do anything like that", and I've saw the judge writing on my file through my tears, and hand it to the bailing as he lead me out of the courtroom to take me back over total the jail......
Anyone who's been in jail knows that news travels fast, and to this day I don't know how they found out, but as the bailiff walked me through the Sally port, back into the booking area, all of the prisoners in holding, as well as the jailers erupted in applause as soon as I walked through, each congratulating me, telling me they'd never seen anything like that, as the bailiff handed my file to the booking officer I got a glimpse at what the judge had written, it said, "release this man immediately, then destroy file".....

NEVER DOUBT GOD'S ABILITY TO WORK A MIRACLE IN YOUR LIFE, I'VE SEEN IT