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The Other Side of the Story

Abbott Press

The Story of Job

Have you ever encountered events in your life that were devastating and seemed to never end? Or just one event where you almost lost your mind? And not only did you almost lose your mind, but you also almost lost, or did lose, your material possessions and close friends or family members, experienced a change in your relationships, or spent your entire life savings? For some reason, though, you still remained faithful to God, and because of your faithfulness, you were able to regroup, recover, and rebuild.

Some of you might be still going through such an event, but think about the story of Job. He lost his material possessions and his sons and daughters. He even became ill, and his wife said, "Curse God and die!" But Job recovered because of his faithfulness to God.

Job's faith was tested, and he passed the test by remaining faithful. Our faith is also tested. The question is, can we pass the test? As human beings, it is natural for us to become weak in a moment of despair. We can't think straight or even ask God why something is happening.

Each one of us has a test prepared specifically for us, and each one of us will pass through the test in a different way. I can't stand your test, and you can't stand mine. The saying "God won't give you more than you can bear" derives from 1 Corinthians 10:13: "There hath no temptation taken you but such as is common to man: but God is faithful, who will not suffer you to be tempted above that ye are able; but will with the temptation also make a way to escape, that ye may be able to bear it" (KJV).

When you trust and believe in God, the situation does come to an end. I am telling you something I know and have experienced. Here is my story.

Academics and Life Education

In August, my husband and I traveled about six hundred miles to drop off my oldest daughter at college. I had mixed feelings about leaving my firstborn in a small town far away from home.

After we arrived, we helped her unpack and settle into her dorm. We then said farewell without any emotion. As we drove off to travel back home, it hit me that I had just left a wonderful young lady to begin her life. She was not my baby anymore. The tears began to flow, but I didn't want my husband to see me crying.

Just as I was about to really start wailing, my phone rang. It was my daughter. "Mama, I forgot my phone charger in the car." That ended my outburst of tears. We turned around and dropped off her phone charger. I knew that God wanted me to drive off this time happy and not sad. Life can be so funny.

On August 26, everything was fine—at least I thought so. God had blessed my youngest daughter with getting into the middle school of her choice. While driving home from work, I began to reflect on my day. I was excited and thankful for my blessings. But then an unusual thought came to my mind: today is too perfect. I had a gut instinct that something was wrong.

My phone rang. It was my youngest daughter with some unbelievable news about a shameful allegation against my husband that didn't fit his character. A thought occurred in the back of my mind that it could be true, but after processing the elements of the allegation, none of it made any sense.

A few hours later, I was mentally drained from trying to think this situation through. I had no desire to pray. I felt my faith weakening. I just wanted everything fixed now—right now—and back to normal. I remembered the storm in 2008 that had hit our home, but I didn't think another storm was about to hit my life.

This allegation turned my life into turmoil. Everything began to fall apart. I felt defeated. Or was it a test of my faith? I didn't understand. I was doing everything I was supposed to do to make sure everyone was happy, and I was living the American dream: get married, have children, own your own home, and then retire.

I was not selfish about spreading my love and peace to everyone.

I called Mary Louise, a very dear friend of my mom's who was like a mom to me. She was very dear to my family too. She said, "Girl, nothing happened. It is just the Devil stirring up a mess." She started to pray, and I started feeling a bit better. I just could not get past my life being interrupted with this stuff.

On September 29, things turned for the worse. I had to make some major decisions, as now more details were added to the shameful allegations against my husband.

On October 5, the situation grew to an immeasurable level. Our family had to split when the state forced my husband to move out of our home. Thus began my education as a single parent. And now the state was a part of my life.

Truth was now my goal. In my inner sanctuary, my spirit revealed a truth. As I reflected on the nineteen years my husband and I had been married, I thought about the man I knew, the father of my children, and how important life was to him.

I was not going to choose sides. I needed to remain neutral, but I could no longer depend on anyone. It was now only God and me.

Late in the evening October 26, a second loss occurred in my life, this time a permanent one. My mother-in-law passed away. We don't always understand why things happen, but they are part of God's plan.

I received my answer from God about why my husband was forced to move out of our home. He had the opportunity to be with his mother during the last stage of her life. Although the state pulled our family apart, it wasn't a defeat because God knew the night He would take my mother-in-law to heaven.

Her death tore me into a million pieces. After a while, I knew I needed to pull myself together, but my mind was in too many places at once. I did not know where to start. The situation was impossible. I still had to investigate the allegations. How was I going to tell the children that their grandmother was deceased?

Two days later, a third loss occurred. Child Protective Services (CPS) came and took our two children. They said I wasn't protecting them from their father, so I was no longer allowed to be with them now, and it was possible I never would be again.

I called our attorney to ask him why my children were being taken. He said he didn't know and asked me what I had done wrong. I told him, "I did nothing wrong. We were just here at home, and the kids were doing their homework." After hanging up, I could no longer think straight.

It was a tragedy, but I could not find the tears while my children were being rushed out of our home. I had to get their medications together. They were allowed to take only the clothes they had on their backs, and I could not even give them a kiss or a hug good-bye.

The police officer who was assisting the caseworker called another police officer to assist with taking my kids from our home. I watched in disbelief as my children were driven away with the caseworker, thinking that this had to be a nightmare and wishing I could just wake up. But it was not a nightmare; it was real.

The police officer asked if I knew why the children were being taken. "No," I told her. "I did everything they asked me to do, but they took my children anyway." The police officer gave me a case number in case I needed to make a report.

After the kids were gone, I called Jenny to come and sit with me. Jenny was a coworker who had become like a real sister to me in a short time. She was there for me when I had no one else—someone I could say I truly depended on during this major storm in my life.

While I waited for her arrival, I called Mary Louise to tell her what had happened. She could not believe it and began to cry. "This has gone too far," she said. "Something has to be done to get this stuff resolved."

After hanging up, I began reading the documentation that gave the reason why CPS had picked up my children. I then called my attorney and read the documents to him.

He immediately said, "That is not true." I could tell by his tone that he was very angry. He said he and I would go to the courthouse the next morning to talk with the judge to find out why the children were taken. He ended by saying, "We have to keep praying."

I still couldn't cry. I was in disbelief that my children were gone. I wanted to call my husband and my oldest daughter to tell them what had happened, but I needed to wait because I did not want to upset them. There was enough going on. I kept it to myself with an emptiness that was unemotionally unbearable. I just wanted to take my last breath.

Jenny arrived at my house, and I handed her the documents to read. "This does not make any sense," she said. I told her I had never heard of these allegations and that the information was not true. They took my children because of lies and inconsistent stories. I told Jenny it was easy to become part of the state and hard to get out. Jenny stayed with me about an hour, until I told her I would be okay and it was all right for her to leave.

After Jenny drove off, I stood in the front yard as tears begin to roll down my face, reliving the moment my children had suddenly been taken from me. After standing outside for a few minutes, I dreaded walking back into a quiet, gloomy house. I could feel their presence as I entered the door. I walked straight to my room where they had left their homework on the floor, their books open, backpacks and sweaters lying next to them. I sat on the edge of my bed wondering why. The tears began to flow uncontrollably. I could not take my clothes off. I just stared at what was left of the children. I picked their sweaters up off the floor and used them as a pillow, and continued to cry until I fell asleep.

On October 27, I had to call in sick to my job. I was mentally sick. I met our attorney downtown at the family court about noon.

In between cases, my attorney and I went before the judge. The attorney tried to explain to the judge about our case, but the judge said, "I have more important cases to worry about than yours. I will see you in two weeks on your appointed court date."

My attorney was almost put in jail for contempt because of the comment he made about the unfairness of the justice system.

I experienced the longest two weeks of my life. My oldest daughter routinely called every night, but for the strangest reason, she did not ask about the other kids during those two weeks.

Before the kids left, she would call every night, asking to speak with her brother and asking about her sister. I wanted to tell her about her siblings being taken away, but I didn't want to interrupt her studies with family burdens. As we talked on the phone, I was on the other end crying silently, with tears rolling down my face.

As the days slowly went by, I did not stop my daily routine. The only thing different now was that my family was torn apart. I cried at night and smiled at work during the day and pretended my life was good. I did not tell my other coworkers because the situation was embarrassing. I worked for the state, and now I was a victim of the state. When my phone rang, I would go outside to the car and talk. Most of the time, it was our attorney. A coworker did get suspicious because I would leave the office to take my phone calls, whereas before, I would talk in my office. I would tell them that everything was fine, that I was just taking care of my personal call outside. I shared my story with only three people in my office. They had resources and information and helped in my situation.

On November 10, the evening before we were to go to court to find out if I was going to get my children back, I was driving home when an inspirational song came on the radio. The song came on right when I needed to hear it. While I was listening, I turned the radio up as loud as I could bear and started to sing along. At that point I was persuaded to trust God for the return of my children.

Later that night my oldest daughter called as usual. This time when she called, I had an awkward feeling. I was afraid she would ask about the kids, but again she didn't ask. She sounded excited about school and life. I did not want to upset the one person in our family who was happy. After hanging up the phone, I called Jenny because Mary Louise had not answered when I'd tried her. I told her I hadn't told my oldest daughter about her siblings being taken away. Jenny said, "You need to let her know sooner or later!"

I decided to call my oldest daughter back that same night, and finally told her what had happened to the kids. She began to weep and blame herself for the situation. I told her not to blame herself and not to worry. After our conversation, I began to weep uncontrollably. In the back of my mind I could hear, Trust God. I went to bed.

On November 11, the judge granted the children's return home the next day by five o'clock. The judge did not understand why they had been taken in the first place. As we left the courtroom, our attorney rushed out ahead of us and went to the next room, weeping. He said that God answers prayers. The state would remain in our lives until further notice.

At five o'clock November 12, the children walked through the door, looking happy yet sad, too. God had a purpose and a plan for our lives. A few weeks before they had been removed from our home, I needed to get them new tennis shoes and new clothes, but I was waiting until the next payday. What the Devil meant for my evil, God made for my good. They returned home with enough clothes and tennis shoes to last them for a while. The Scripture says, "All things work together for the good of them who love the Lord." I love the Lord!

The Truth Revealed

Maintaining my trust in God had become a habit I needed. I would get weak along the way, but God stayed right here. I know He is the same God yesterday, today, and forever more. However, it was very difficult to live a different life when things weren't normal.

You must be careful what you say because you can speak a thing into life, whether good or bad. We must also be careful how we treat our loved ones because we take them for granted, and when they are taken—and not by choice—we can reflect on the negative things we have said. We allow the Devil to plant negative seeds, and we allow those seeds to grow with doubt, unbelief, and negative talk. When you begin to think negative, begin to speak positive. Start praying and singing songs of victory.

The kids and I were settling down for the evening and a thought came to my mind to ask them what had happened on August 26, 2009. My son quickly responded, "Daddy did nothing to anyone." I asked him, how was that so? He said that his daddy was in his room the entire time. Then my daughter interrupted my son and said her daddy had done nothing. You could see the seriousness in their faces as they told minute by minute what had happened that day. It was as if they had been waiting for me to ask. I became very weak. That is when the other side of the story came to me.

The Caseworker from Heaven

In spite of disastrous months, God always has a way of ending things right. By the end of the year, during the holidays, God provided us with a caseworker who thought all of this madness was ridiculous. I told him that my mother had sent him from heaven. He was very compassionate, and he believed in prayer. When we talked on the phone, he would always end our conversation with "Just keep praying."

At one of our meetings the caseworker asked me if I had spoken with my husband or the kids had spoken to their dad. I immediately responded no. He said he didn't understand why my husband had been asked to leave in the first place. He allowed the family to slowly come back together.

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Excerpted from The Other Side of the Story by Daphine Priscilla Brown-Jack. Copyright © 2015 Daphine Priscilla Brown- Jack. Excerpted by permission of Abbott Press.
All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
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