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Most people cringe when they get their jury summons. I admit, I did. Not because I had no interest or didn’t want to, but because I am a massage therapist and if my day is full, that means disappointed clients. It also means no paycheck. Thankfully, this service would not have been much of a financial burden to my family. Between my husbands income and my passive income from my network marketing business, we can manage. Bring on the jury service I say.
So off I go and I’m fully armed with frankincense to keep my anxiousness at bay, peppermint to keep my head clear and my belly from flip-flopping like most politicians once elected, and White Angelica blend to keep those negative Nellie’s out of my energy bubble. They were applied several times throughout the day and I even had a conversation about oils with one mom who was having some emotions come up through the process of being questioned as a potential juror.
She was juror number 12 , I 11. We both got asked tons of questions and the D.A. decided we were a good fit for this case. The defense attorney had a different opinion and cut us both loose. I’ll fully admit it kinda surprised me and I was a smidgen disappointed. I pride myself on being impartial, open-minded, and able to give all sides (there are always more than 2 sides to any given story) a fair shake. In any case, juror number 11 has been relieved of her civil duties.
What amazed me was the moans and groans of the other 80 jurors or so. So many complaints about how this “inconvenienced them”, or they were “so tired”, “not interested”, “why is this taking so long” (seriously??!?!!!) or just didn’t want to be there. For Pete’s sake people, this is not only your civic duty as a United States Citizen, but it’s a privilege that we are to be judged by a jury of our peers. We might have some cracks in our justice system, but it’s still one of the best in the world and I for one was proud to contribute even a small part. I was so upset I had flip-flops on (not allowed, I totally didn’t read the back of the summons) that I had my husband bring me a pair of shoes! How’s that for a moral compass?! I spoke with one young man – 20 years old – who was complaining. I told him all of what I just mentioned here and that he had a choice. A choice to be miserable while he was here, or, be grateful that we live where we live and that he wasn’t the defendant or the victim as this was an extremely disturbing case. He actually paused for a moment when I said that. Hopefully, it made an impact. And when I didn’t get chosen for service, I wondered why I was there. There must be a reason I was put there at that time. Maybe, just maybe, I was there to impact him enough to change his mind about the slight inconvenience about jury service. And to let him know that in life we all have choices. Even if its just to the emotions we have and not necessarily to the situation at hand.