I had been hearing sermons on being there for
my world. And so it was outside my apartment that I met "Billy and
Kelly" (not their real names). They were intrigued by my dog and stopped
to talk with me. Since they were obviously young, I rapped for them—my fun
"Boredom Games" rap that is now on YouTube. It was Saturday and I
invited them to my church here in Huntsville the next day. Only they weren't
ready and took a rain check.
In the meanwhile life happened and Kelly had to go
to the hospital to have her kidney stones removed. Billy’s mom had their
baby born in June while she was hospitalized. When no one would come to the Huntsville
hospital to pick her up so she could be with Billy and their baby, Kelly had a
melt-down. She was sent to a psyche ward in Anniston. Billy's mother had their
car because she was making payments on that car and helping Billy pay the rent
and the car payment while he was looking for work. She lived about an hour away
in Athens. Resourceful while Kelly was in the hospital, Billy walked and
found a job in a restaurant; he has to walk 45 minutes to the job and back and
still does.
I didn’t hear from them for a
while. After about ten days Kelly was ready to be picked up and Billy texted me
to tell me what had happened and why she was in an Anniston, Alabama hospital
several hours away. Billy said he was looking for a way to get there to pick
her up. His mother wouldn’t do that.
I could do that, I said. It was fall break
here and I didn’t have substitute jobs all week. That next day Tuesday, Oct. 6th,
Billy got off work and we headed south for several hours to Anniston. Beautiful
rolling hills and small towns kept me entertained and I got to know Billy and
his family more. Billy and Kelly appeared to be Christians struggling to make
ends meet and hoping to get married and raise their son together. I commend
them for not getting an abortion and staying together. See my rap lyrics from a year ago for “While You’re Still One” on this blog. (That rap is not on YouTube yet. Alabama is a pro-life state and the high school students here like, but I was informed last year at one high school in Florida, to not say that rap.)
I parked outside the hospital while Billy
went into the Anniston hospital. I heard that Kelly jumped into his arms and
also did the “happy dance”. She was free from the depressing psyche ward and
rescued by her boyfriend and myself whom she decided to call “Mimi”, short for
grandma. We ate at KFC on the way home. Kelly had me sneak some chicken in my
large purse before we left and it occurred to me how really poor these
seemingly happy young parents were.
Two days later the grandma, Billy’s mother, informed them that the DHR was involved and they wouldn’t be able to get their baby back.That next day, Friday, while Billy was
working, Kelly and I went to the sheriff’s office near the grandma’s Athens
home. It was the end of the day and they couldn’t verify the status of the
child with DHR. Saturday I washed weeks of their laundry that I folded and
brought them Sunday morning. The three of us went to my church; they each went
to Sunday School and sat by me in church.
Monday after my morning class at church on spiritual warfare
(little did I know how much spiritual warfare would be involved as this story
unfolded), Billy, Kelly and I went back to the sheriff’s office. I knew many new
friends at the church were praying for this couple, including people in that
spiritual warfare class. Monday was Columbus Day. The DHR office was not open on
Columbus Day and for the second time the officers took no action, even
suggesting the couple get a lawyer.
The next day, Tuesday October 13, while I
substituted in public school and Billy worked, Kelly took a bus to the DHR
office in Huntsville and found out that the case was open, no lawyer was needed
and they could get their son. Meanwhile Kelly picked up a house cleaning job
for a senior lady who said she could bring her baby to the job. At this time I
felt this couple would make it and just needed not a handout, but a “hand up”.
Their immaturity crept into the conversation and yet I was
hopeful. For example, twenty-five year old Billy wanted an iPhone and kept
talking about cars, not about Kelly and the baby. When the iPhone came in the
mail, he sent Kelly a text about getting an Otter Box for his precious new iPhone with his first week’s pay. Now there were more important things needed in
my opinion and Kelly thought so also. The next day out of the blue Billy was
given an Otter Box by someone who lived at their apartment house. Nineteen year
old Kelly talked about Billy and the baby and was under a lot of stress, but
seemed to be coping and to be more realistic than Billy. I wondered how sincere Billy was and kept trying to
counsel both of them.
Wednesday, October 14, after her housekeeping job, while
Billy worked, I drove Kelly back to that sheriff’s office. It took some time
for the story to be confirmed by DHR, but the officer drove with us to the
house in the country where the infant was. Kelly and I waited in my car in the
country outside that grandmother's house. The SUV co-owned by Billy and his mother was in the
driveway. Finally the sheriff’s deputy came out with the diaper bag. That lady had produced no document that she
was in fact to have custody of her grandson. After some time the deputy
delivered the baby in the infant car seat. Kelly and baby were reunited in my
back seat. The baby happily sucked on his mother’s finger when he wasn’t
sleeping while we drove back to Huntsville. Billy had walked 45 minutes home from his job.
Kelly is on Facebook and apparently the grandmother sent her
a message that night: “What the [swear word] do you think you are doing!” Kelly
blocked her then.
Thursday after my sub job I texted Billy who was on a bus
with Kelly and the baby after his work. They were going to Social Security to
have a benefit transferred to Billy’s address from his mother’s address. It was
about 5 pm that I picked them up so they wouldn’t have to take a bus back to
their apartment. I felt that this Social Security check that I understood to be
from his late father was good news that there would be more income. This
happened to be the last day I saw them recently. I let them know that I would be busy
Friday with a morning sub job and entertaining my family that night, but looked
forward to going to church with them on Sunday.
Kelly’s cell phone needed a new battery, and so I texted
Billy to ask where they were on Saturday. No answer. I went by their apartment.
No one was home. No one was home Sunday morning also when I was scheduled to
take the three of them including the baby to church.
During my times driving them around this past two weeks I
aggressively counseled this young couple. I shared Scripture about perseverance
and bearing their own burdens; we talked about a wedding. They prayed with me
at times and also said that they had been reading Scripture. I had un-friended Billy because of his
questionable posts on Facebook and told him that when he cleaned up his act I
would be his Facebook friend again and also that I preferred his real name to a
pseudonym. His explanation for the pseudonym is that at one point he sold
prescription meds when he was younger and didn’t want people to contact him. I
was glad that he didn’t sell drugs anymore, but still concerned about his
maturity and character.
Sunday night I got a clue as to what was happening when
Kelly updated her Facebook photo. There is a conversation below that updated
photo. Kelly writes, “[Billy] kicked me to the curb and is trying to take [the
baby].”
Someone writes: “This is moma I will help u always and I
will never leave u again.’
Kelly writes: “I know I love you momma.”
Further Facebook conversation indicates that someone else
went to get Kelly (and the possibly the baby) so she wouldn’t be out on the
street. It is cold now.
I have no idea where all three are now, but “Mimi’s” heart
is broken and so is Kelly’s. Please pray for the baby who one day may want to
know what happened to his real parents.
