Some years back my husband and I were making our way through a megastore checkout lane when I spotted Jasmine, a girl I recognized from detention. I hate to admit it, but I cringed when I saw her. She was several lanes away, and I didn’t figure she would notice me—I actually hoped she wouldn’t. I had nothing to say to her.

I really do like people, and I can get along with almost anyone. However, in my memories of dealing with Jasmine, I couldn’t recall a single good one. She had been detained when she was about 15, a high school student—bright, pretty, and incredibly strong-willed. She was rude and defiant the whole time she was with us.

Usually kids in detention will adjust their behavior, hoping a good report to the judge will earn them a release at their court hearing. I honestly can’t remember how Jasmine ever got out because she refused to play the “be nice” game. I guess there must have been some kind of limit on how long we could hold her in relation to her offense.

At any rate, I was not thrilled to see her again. I didn’t need the reminder of our turbulent time together.

We finished checking out, gathered our bags, and turned to go when I heard someone behind me.

“Excuse me,” the voice said. “Excuse me! Would you by any chance be Mrs. Kidd?”

We hadn’t moved fast enough!

I turned around to face an encounter I had hoped to avoid. But there she was, and she was wearing a big, beautiful smile! She looked healthy and poised. She appeared to be happy and even happy to see me.

I was dumbfounded!

We stood and talked for several minutes, and I learned she was in the Air Force. She had gotten married, been stationed several interesting places, and was doing well. She was in a good place, happy and proud of the changes she’d made in her life.

Despite my earlier effort to avoid her—based on our JDC history together, I was truly thrilled for Jasmine. We don’t typically see kids after they leave unless they continue returning to detention. As a result, we seldom get to know of the success stories. 

A few days later, while she was still home on leave, she came back to detention to speak to the kids. She shared her own experiences, and she encouraged them to accept the help being offered them. Her message urged them to make better choices for themselves. She offered them hope.

And as she left the building, we all wished her well and hugged her goodbye.

One of the detention supervisors used to remind us that, in detention, we were all in the business of planting seeds.

Once in a while we would feel everything we were trying to do seemed pointless. When we started to lose hope, he would help us remember that we might never know the impact of our efforts. He’d say some seeds will sprout soon, grow, and flourish. Others may never take hold. But many eventually take root and go on to bloom long after the time we shared with them.

And that was Jasmine. What breathtaking loveliness she had become!