Epiphanies Will Find You—Even on Jury Duty

I give no wiggle room when ignorant people say that not casting their ballot in an election is really a vote. Those people gave us Donald Trump. So, no.

The same goes for jury duty. I don’t believe you get to shirk your civic responsibilities because you’re too busy, or have better things to do. As an immigrant, I jumped through hoops to become a U.S. citizen and, well, this is a part of what citizenship entails. If Barack Obama can show up for jury duty, so can I—and so can you.

Jury duty is how we, as citizens, participate in the checks and balances afforded us through our legislative branch of government. Therefore, I do my civic duty. Democracy takes effort.

Especially jury duty. Ugh. 

There’s nothing glamorous about showing up at the crack of dawn—to me, that’s what 8:00 AM is—to sit in a huge room with a bunch of strangers, likely just to watch Disney movies. For the most part, if you never get called over to the courtroom from the jury pool, the time spent “in service” feels exactly like a time out. To think. Contemplate. Commune. All of which, honestly, can be painfully boring and feel sometimes like a great inconvenience.

Whenever I run myself ragged, however, somehow the Universe conspires (I’m sure of it!) to hit my reset button. And, likely, this is the real reason I’m in a jury pool today—seemingly not to be called for actual service, but simply to be still. Apparently, two eye surgeries this past November and December and a bout with a nasty cold since New Year’s Eve didn’t sufficiently do the trick. (And yes, I got my flu shot weeks prior).

Many years ago, I was summoned for a similar jury pool, and I had a great epiphany. For almost the entire day, I kept praying and praying for the clerk not to call my name to actually go over to the courtroom since that could have meant days of service.

“Oh God,” I kept praying, “You know I cannot be here for days and days…I have no backup to pick the girls up from school, no one to take them to school, no one at home to watch them..blah blah blah blah…you know I cannot be here, Lord. Pretty P-L-E-A-S-E, with sugar on top, do not let them call me!”

Jury duty can be a single parent’s nightmare.

On and on I prayed. Each time the clerk came in with a new list of names, I’d almost have a panic attack. Including that fateful moment mine finally made the queue.

“God,” I grumbled resentfully as I roused myself to be led for possible jury selection. “Why did you let them call on me? You know my situation…”

If I had an empty can, I think I’d have kicked it all the way to the courtroom.

Grumble, grumble, grumble.

Till I got outside the jury pool room. To be released to go home. It had been a “slow day” over in the courts; people were either pleading guilty, or cases were being dismissed. This was why the clerk had been calling names all morning and well into the afternoon. 

“You don’t even know what to pray for!” a voice said so loudly within my spirit, I thought the man next to me had spoken.

And then it struck me. All day, I had been praying against my own interests, and I didn’t even know it.

Since then, I’ve realized the importance of sitting quietly, most times in complete stillness, to hear from God. It inevitably dawned on me that that was, likely, the entire purpose of my “time out” that day. I have never forgot the lesson and, needless to say, I made it back in time to pick up my girls—a little late, but nothing extraordinary.

And then it struck me. All day, I had been praying against my own interests, and I didn’t even know it.

These days, I pray less and meditate more. And when I do pray, I’m far more conscious of what I am saying. After all, what can I possibly tell God that He/She doesn’t already know? It dawned on me that day that, in all my comings and goings, regardless of where I am, regardless of what I’m doing, God’s got me. That’s been his message to me for a while now. That and “Do not fear!” And may I just say that, if there weren’t going to be things for us to fear—but through which we will get to the other side—God likely wouldn’t waste energy.

Prayers are about talking to God. but meditation is about hearing from God. There is much wisdom in, “Be still and know…”

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PHOTO CREDIT: Dilbert.com

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BIO: A change agent in all aspects of her professional and personal life, Donna is also a Political Writer & Commentator, featured regularly as a Contributor to HuffPost. Jamaican by birth, Donna is the author of the upcoming book, “A Warning to America From a (Legal) Immigrant.” 

 

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