Jan. 7, 2010. That particular date—my sentencing day—will always elicit a floodgate of emotions. It is the day I received my five-and-a-half-year sentence, along with the unexpected blessing of a release date, a gift I could never deserve in a million years. One million words cannot properly describe this one date—one I will always remember—not for one million tears, but for one freeing hug.

I slept well on the eve of my sentencing, something that can only be attributed to the prayers of family, friends and countless others. I knew I was going to prison—something I still couldn’t wrap my mind around. I used to watch the TV series Prison Break from the safety and comfort of my living room, never once imagining myself walking prison halls, or living a prison reality.

I woke up on Jan. 7, 2010 with my feelings of uncertainty, but this was not a day to wrestle my fate. This was a day to face the family and loved ones of my innocent victim, Mr. Hort Kap. I remember getting ready, the whole time imagining this day from their perspective. How would I feel facing the man who killed my father, brother, uncle, friend, or grandfather?

My heart was heavy as I rode to court that day, not preoccupied with what the prosecutor, judge, or public thought about me, but solely focused on the Kap family—their pain, their loss, and what they thought of me. And although I entered the courtroom knowing that in a matter of hours, I would be riding to prison, my new home for the next five, maybe 10 years, my mind was far from the calendar.

The prospect of serving my time actually provided momentary relief, even if it was a mere grain of redemption buried beneath mountains of devastation—all caused by me. But it was a chance for me to begin to give back, trusting God’s promise to “work all things together for good, for those who love God, and who are called according to His purpose.” (Rom 8:28)

Nothing can bring Mr. Kap back, and nothing will ever diminish the unrelenting throb of a broken heart mourning a life senselessly lost. So I can only pray for healing and do my best to honor the life of the man I killed when I chose to drink and drive on March 7, 2009. I may very well deserve to sit alone in a prison cell for one million years, and if that were the case, I would still have that one hug, that one measure of peace, and that one release date. Knowing I was completely to blame for someone’s death is my life sentence, and whether caged or free, that disgusting feeling will haunt me always.

I understand why nothing will ever be good enough for a million critics, and for that I am sorry. But I also know that when all is said and done, there is only One I must answer to—One judge, and One God—and where the spirit of the Lord is, there is liberty—whether caged, or free.

People still ask me for my release date, and my answer will always be Jan. 7, 2010—my true release date—granted in the form of an undeserved hug of forgiveness from Kap’s oldest son, Noun. Jan. 7, 2010 will always be the day that one hug removed the weight of the world from my shoulders, and eased the burden I planned to carry with me to my grave. I stared at their pain that day in court, and their faces, expecting hatred to glare right back at me. But instead I saw the face and tears of selfless mercy, and felt the embrace of supernatural grace.

I am humbled to have this release date; one million blogs will never be able to proclaim the peace granted through just one hug. God’s grace to my case: one million to one!

(ED. NOTE: The author, and professional athlete, of Court House, is serving five-and-a-half years in state prison after pleading guilty to manslaughter and driving while intoxicated in October 2009. His blogs have been read by over 100,000 people in every state, 114 countries, and in 67 different languages, www. themattmaherstory.com)