I clicked open the Facebook app on my cell phone, hoping to scroll through smiling pictures of friends and family for a quick pick-me-up. But the first thing that popped up was a post\u2014\u201cMy dad needs a new kidney<\/a>\u201d\u2014from April Potter Holleman, the sister of my good high school friend Misti, who had died in 2011. Their father, Terrell Potter, now retired, had been an officer in our town\u2019s police department.<\/p>\n Before I could finish reading the post, a fully formed sentence appeared in my mind<\/a>. You have this man\u2019s kidney.<\/em><\/p>\n I shot bolt upright. \u201cGod,\u201d I said, trying not to let my voice break, \u201cI don\u2019t have time for this.\u201d<\/p>\n Holy Spirit, have mercy! <\/em>I was pushing 40 with two teenagers to raise. I was caring for 92 women in addiction recovery<\/a>, up to my neck in good works. I didn\u2019t have the energy to add another person to my roster.<\/p>\n Besides, who would want a kidney from a recovering addict, someone who\u2019d abused her body the way I had? Certainly not an upstanding man of God like Mr. Potter. I didn\u2019t know him well, but I remembered from hanging out with his daughter that he lived a Christ-centered life.<\/p>\n The kind of life I was striving for.<\/p>\n I got hooked on prescription opioids<\/a> in 2007. I had a nice house then and a good job as an electrician at a mobile home plant. Though he and I were divorced, the kids\u2019 father was in their lives, and I was grateful for that after growing up without a dad. Then I had six operations to remove cancerous cells from my ovaries. A doctor wrote scrips for my postsurgical pain. The cancerous cells kept returning. Finally I had to have a hysterectomy.<\/p>\n That surgery left me reeling. My hope of having more children someday was gone. I\u2019d lost something so foundational to my sense of worth and womanhood. I felt like damaged goods. When the doctor stopped writing scrips, I bought pills from people at work, then from dealers on the street. The next thing I knew, I was shooting OxyContin<\/a>\u2014a faster, more intense high than taking pills.<\/p>\n I spiraled fast. I lost my job, my car, my friends. Were my kids fed? Did they get to day care or school? I didn\u2019t care. About them. About anything. Except getting high.<\/p>\n During the years that followed, the one constant, if you could call it that, was the town police department. I was arrested for the first time in 2007 for possession of a controlled substance, then another 15 times over the next five years.<\/p>\n \u201cYou\u2019re trying to ruin my life,\u201d I\u2019d scream when an officer booked me. \u201cYou want to get me in trouble.\u201d<\/p>\n In 2009, I was arrested<\/a> for possession of stolen property and fraudulent credit card use. I recognized the officer. Terrell Potter. I\u2019d been to his house, eaten at his table, laughed with his daughter. It didn\u2019t matter. At that moment, I hated him.<\/p>\n \u201cYou\u2019re a bunch of pigs,\u201d I snarled, getting cuffed against the cruiser. \u201cI\u2019m not hurting anyone!\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cWatch your head,\u201d he replied quietly, ducking me into the back seat. \u201cWe\u2019re just doing our job, Jocelynn.\u201d<\/p>\n I was a repeat offender, a junkie<\/a>. Most cops spoke to me with contempt, treated me as if I were worthless. Not Terrell Potter, even after arresting me several times. He always treated me with respect. He would ask about my mom and my children. Even through the haze of addiction, I could see something different in his eyes\u2014different not only from the other officers but also from how most people looked at me.<\/p>\n There was kindness<\/a>. Compassion. Hope. Hope that I didn\u2019t have. As if he was somehow able to look past the unkempt hair and dirty clothes, the physical wreck of the addict, to the suffering human being inside. Someone who could still be saved.<\/p>\n By November 2012, I\u2019d lost my house and moved in with my ex-husband. We were watching the local news one night when my face popped up with \u201cAlabama\u2019s Most Wanted\u201d in big letters underneath. I\u2019d made the paper plenty of times, but somehow seeing myself on TV jolted me.<\/p>\n \u201cIs that for your speeding tickets, Mama?\u201d my daughter asked.<\/p>\n That\u2019s it, <\/em>I thought, I\u2019m done living like this. I don\u2019t want to lie to my kids anymore.<\/em><\/p>\n I turned myself in the next morning. The children were better off with my ex and my mom. I hadn\u2019t been much of a mother.<\/p>\n I thought I would be sent straight to rehab<\/a>. Instead I was sentenced to serve six long months in Franklin County Jail. What a place to detox.<\/p>\n Sometimes a woman from the jail ministry<\/a>, Miss Cooper, would come talk to the female inmates. \u201cOur bodies are a temple of the Holy Spirit,\u201d she\u2019d say. \u201cCorinthians reminds us to glorify God with our bodies and treat them with care.\u201d<\/p>\n Though I didn\u2019t join the prayer circle, I would listen from my bunk. I heard Miss Cooper love on those women, not judge them, despite the crimes they\u2019d committed. That got me wondering if maybe there was a force for good in the universe. I started reading the Bible<\/a>.<\/p>\n I went from jail to rehab. Addiction stalked me like a ravenous beast. All I wanted was a pill. Just one little pill. I can\u2019t do this, <\/em>I thought. I can\u2019t stay clean. <\/em>It felt as if I had reached a breaking point, given a stark choice between life and death.<\/p>\n \u201cI give up,\u201d I told my client rep at rehab one day in April 2013. \u201cI\u2019ve tried to beat this my way, and I can\u2019t. I\u2019m ready to do whatever it is God wants.\u201d<\/p>\n The words just spilled out of me. I was desperate, reaching blindly for something beyond myself, but suddenly I felt lighter. Clear-headed for the first time in years.<\/p>\n \u201cAnd what do you think God wants you to do?\u201d<\/p>\n I thought about Miss Cooper, preaching about treating our bodies with care. \u201cStay clean<\/a>,\u201d I said.<\/p>\n I graduated rehab that August and moved in with my mom. I had nothing. No license, no car, no job. It didn\u2019t matter. God had delivered me from my addiction. I was committed to learning how to take care of myself and be the mother my children deserved. I had no illusions. It would be a hard road back, as hard as the road that had gotten me here. But now I had God<\/a>.<\/p>\n I also found a new passion for helping other women get clean. By October, Mom and I were driving around, reaching out to addicts. \u201cLook at me,\u201d I\u2019d say. \u201cI was just like you 11 months ago. Let\u2019s get you to rehab.\u201d<\/p>\n One day at a time over the next several years, I forged a relationship with my kids. I worked with judges and the district attorney. On Sundays and every Christmas, I ministered to women in the Franklin County Jail. My phone rang day and night. I took on second, third, sometimes fourth jobs to help put 803 women and 146 men through rehab. I filed paperwork to start a nonprofit called The Place of Grace Center, a recovery program for women<\/a>.<\/p>\n Now the Holy Spirit was telling me I had Terrell Potter\u2019s kidney. A part of me wanted to lash out and fight the way I had in the old days. I was already stretched so thin. And wasn\u2019t I damaged goods anyway?<\/p>\n I spent the rest of the week fasting and praying<\/a>, waiting for a sign that God was serious. Friday morning, my eyes landed on the Gospel of Matthew. Thou shalt love thy neighbor as thyself.<\/em><\/p>\n I called April Potter Holleman. \u201cIt\u2019s Jocelynn James. I was friends with your sister in high school.\u201d<\/p>\n April was surprised to hear from me\u2014we hadn\u2019t been in touch in years\u2014and even more so when I blurted out, \u201cI\u2019ve got your dad\u2019s kidney. Let me know what I need to do.\u201d<\/p>\n After April and her family got over the shock, she sent me to get tested at Vanderbilt University Medical Center in Nashville. I got a call from the transplant coordinator on December 5. \u201cGreat news,\u201d she said. \u201cYou and your dad are a match.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cHe\u2019s not my daddy,\u201d I said. \u201cI\u2019m not even kin to him.\u201d<\/p>\n She could hardly believe it, she said. The match was so perfect.<\/p>\n Terrell and his wife invited me to their home. \u201cIf you\u2019d asked me to write down a hundred folks who might give me a kidney<\/a>, I wouldn\u2019t have thought to put your name on the list,\u201d he said.<\/p>\n The Potters were so godly that I felt bad about donating a piece of me. My body isn\u2019t exactly pristine, <\/em>I thought. Weren\u2019t they worried?<\/p>\n \u201cWe\u2019ve been praying so hard for the perfect match,\u201d Terrell said. \u201cYou\u2019ve blessed us, Jocelynn. Thank you.\u201d<\/p>\n I was stunned into silence. After so many years of drug abuse, it was still hard for me to believe my body was precious, capable of providing a perfect kidney. That I was precious, worthy of saving someone else\u2019s life.<\/p>\n Terrell\u2019s gaze met mine. His eyes held the same kindness and compassion I\u2019d seen when he\u2019d arrested me in the depths of my addiction. Only now I truly understood what he\u2019d been trying to tell me. You are a beloved child of God. You too can be saved<\/a>.<\/em><\/p>\n On July 21, 2020, Terrell and I were prepped for surgery at Vanderbilt, surrounded by our loved ones. His family and mine, board members from The Place of Grace, bosses from all my jobs. I couldn\u2019t have imagined so many folks caring about my well-being in those days when Terrell was picking me up off the streets.<\/p>\n Six hours later, my kidney was Terrell\u2019s. \u201cYour kidney broke national records,\u201d the surgeon said. \u201cMost urine produced after a transplant surgery!\u201d<\/p>\n The Potters and I are family now. We\u2019ve got a group text going, and I talk to Terrell every day. I don\u2019t even knock when I walk in his front door. \u201cIs that you, Jocelynn?\u201d Terrell asks when he hears me rummaging through the fridge.<\/p>\n \u201cJust getting a Diet Coke.\u201d For someone who grew up without a daddy, having Terrell in my life means the world. I know God loves me, but I\u2019m grateful that my earthly father figure<\/a> does too.<\/p>\n I\u2019m humbled when I think about how God renewed me from the inside out, restoring a body that I\u2019d abused, making it possible for me to help Terrell. And restoring my soul. When I reach out to people struggling with addiction, I try to show them what Terrell showed me. That they are children of God, worthy of care, worthy of love<\/a>.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n![\"Jocelynn](\"https:\/\/gpbookstore.org\/articles\/wp-content\/uploads\/2021\/04\/gp_may2021_coverembed.jpg\")
\n issue of <\/em>Guideposts<\/figcaption><\/figure>\n