service, not duty

The silence--and a bit of tension--in the room could be cut with a knife. Twenty-four adults, apparently well-educated and handpicked as potential jurors for a big civil case. We sat in rows in an empty courtroom, making sure of personal space around us. Most were reading, one was knitting, one had paper work spread out on his lap, and another man did Bible homework as he prepared to become a deacon for his church. It was a sunny, very cold day outside, and the silence throughout the old federal courthouse was on the chilly side as well. (Later we learned there could be no talking anyway, not even friendlies.)

When the court attendant came in and announced we had a one-in-three chance of being chosen for a case that would likely take three weeks, I'm sure each and every one of us began a little internal panic. Who could put three weeks of life on hold? And then the news that this particular judge liked to work long and hard hours, and that daily sessions could go into the evening made us swallow hard.

The quiet remained as we were transferred, like school children in single file, to another room with a cable news channel running. I discovered an acquaintance from church and we chatted quietly. No other noise other than the drone of the TV newscaster.

Then to the courtroom. Fourteen were put in the jury box to start out. Not me. We had already filled out two questionnaires from home to get us to this point. The process was interesting, the questions asked to the potential jurors were detailed and sometimes personal. I learned quite a bit about those 14, and would love to write stories about them. Tension mounted as one or two were dismissed and other names called to fill the empty chairs. Not me again ... at least yet. Being the control kind of person I am, it was hard to sit there with a week full of commitments ahead of me, not knowing what the next three weeks of my life would hold. I couldn't figure out how I could give that much time (for coming in as potential jurors, we were told that it normally would be a three to four day commitment.) The Gardener reminded me before I left that morning that God knew about those appointments too.

By early afternoon the lawyers were satisfied with the jurors they had, and the few of us remaining were dismissed permanently. As we left the courtroom, and the huge heavy doors closed behind us, I heard the first chatter. "Yes!" "Phew." "That was close." Everyone seemed so delighted to be "set free,"for most likely they also had been considering how to manage such a time commitment.  For myself, I had a feeling the rest of the day that I had just been through exam week and now had a holiday ahead of me. Interesting emotional reaction.

The judge was a wonderful communicator and had given us a great speech about how we were there not because we wanted to, but out of "duty." He hoped that we would consider it more a "service" to our country than duty, and explained how without us "extras" sitting and waiting, the due process and legal system of our country would not be possible. His thanking us went on for quite some time. I was happy to be of service,  and at another time in my life would find jury service a great privilege, but on this day, I was thankful it was only for a day.