Another Complete Christmas

            With a son in prison, it's another Christmas without my complete family. That seems to be the norm since my grandmother left us. I remember the Christmas Eves of my childhood, with aunts, uncles, cousins and food. Now we are lucky to get a meal where everyone can sit down and eat peacefully. We actually accomplish that better at Thanksgiving now that we go out for our turkey dinner.
            Christmas feels different since my visit to Israel last March. I must say that Jerusalem and Bethlehem were much too commercialized for my ideas of the Holy City, but I found comfort and connection with my Lord and Savior on the mountainsides and the valleys. Much like life itself, I had to get away from the busyness and the masses to find my peace with God.
             On one of our daily trips, we visited the old city of Capernum. There we saw the actual house of the mother-in-law of the Apostle Peter, the place where Jesus healed her. I knew without a doubt that Jesus had been there.
         While standing alone in the ruins of the synagogue having a quiet time with my Lord, I asked if He had been where I was standing. In my mind I recalled the verse in Matthew 28 where Jesus said "low I am with you always." No words had been spoken until I answered with the comment, "Yes, you are!" When I spoke the words I heard  "Yeshua" which is the Hebrew name for God.
That was an "aha! " moment for me! I had felt the presence of the living God right in his own country, right where he had stood, right where he had healed, right where he had lived . Even though I was in Israel, I had felt Emanuel, God with Us, the same one who is with us now at Christmas and forever, the God who is with us always, wherever that may be.
       Those memories of Capernum have encouraged me this Christmas season. Through Christ, my family IS together.  We are a complete family, even when separated.  My son may be in prison, but Emanuel is with him and with me. Praise God!

A Most Unusual Opportunity

       Today I was given a most unusual opportunity for service. While loading borrowed tables for a yard sale, I was approached at the door of my church by a strange woman who had appeared out of nowhere. She had seen the cars and moved on the opportunity to ask for help.  It was obvious from her smell that she had not bathed in some time, yet her skin was not dirty and the clothes she wore looked clean. She explained her plight but my mind was hearing the words through the filter of a skeptic.

         As she spoke, I began to feel an unsettling in my abdomen. I knew she was about to ask me for money and I was not in any mental state to entertain questions. I was busy. Too busy to even think up excuses for why I had no money or who I could refer her to for charity. Her most immediate need was money for gas.

         I continued with the task at hand and told her the only thing I could do at the time was go with her and get some cash from my bank. She agreed without hesitation. I could tell by the sneer on the face of my companions that they doubted her sincerity and truthfulness. Yet, something in that small voice I call a conscience told me to listen. Trust my inner feeling. Open up my heart.

        I decided to take a chance. My mind began to overflow with questions and thoughts. What if that were my Matt, homeless and hungry, even if it was because of his own actions? Would someone take a chance on him? If everything really is a gift from God, why am I so hesitant to give money to a total stranger? Would God want me to feed his sheep even if they were drug addicts?

        Shaking from the emotional stress I pulled into the service station. A simple thought had changed my course of action. I explained that I only had a credit card, but I would buy them gas and a meal. She agreed and pulled next to the pump. After purchasing the gas, I invited them to meet me at the Dairy Queen.

          I waited briefly in the parking lot, contemplating my actions. When they pulled up all 3, yes 3, got out. I knew without a doubt I had to pray with these strangers. I had to go one step farther than simple charity. I had to tell them that God loves them unconditionally.

         As I stepped up to the counter, I told the young man that these were God's guests. They had approached me with a need and I was going to feed them. His response was heartwarming. He said not many people do that now days, so he was going to give me his employee discount. His gesture was assurance that I had made the right choice.

           We sat down to wait on the meal and I seized the moment. I reassured them that regardless of the reason they were where they are today, God loves them. I prayed for their deliverance from these circumstances and I thanked God for giving me the opportunity to be His hands and feet.

           Having a son in prison has changed my perspective on people and really life in general. Hardships have a way of molding our character, of bringing us closer to God, our Creator and Protector. For those of us who try, we can see others a little more through His eyes and less through our own.  If we look closely, we just might see a glimpse of His Glory. Better yet, we just might get to BE a part of His Glory. 

Visiting Prison: A View From the Inside

Visiting Prison: A View From the Inside

A View From the Inside

Once again I have a blog entry from Matt. I have been encouraging him to write about his experiences. Not only is it therapy for him, it helps answer many questions that people have asked me about what it is like on the inside. I hope you enjoy his thoughts as much as I do.

Stepping into a Maximum Security Federal Penitentiary is a learning experience, and you must learn very quickly.  There are 4 custody levels in the Bureau of Prisons with penitentiary being the highest. Without question, they are the most dangerous as well.  In those types of places, the threat of violence is constantly looming - in fact, it is the glue that holds everything together.  After all, what good are rules and ultimatums without consequences for breaking them?  The punishments for all violations are physical; to what degree depends on the seriousness of the infraction.  Because of this, the United States Penitentiaries (or USPs) are places of utmost respect.  If you were to take a hundred inmates from all custody levels the USP prisoners would definitely stand out. 

For example, when I first arrived at an FCI Medium Security facility, I was about to take a shower.  As juvenile as it sounds, who has next usage of any given facility is determined by “who called it” - just like second grade.  There was one shower open and after inquiring about who was waiting, I got in.  As soon as I did, I saw an older Italian guy, maybe 65 or so, appear in his shower garb.  I wasn’t sure if he was waiting, and I hadn’t started bathing yet, so I got out and let him shower out of respect.  I was there first and in the right, but respected an older, seasoned convict. Later on in the evening the man came up and introduced himself as Anthony.  He said, “So kid, what Pen did you come from?”  Perplexed, I asked him how he knew that because not many people go down to mediums from maximums.  Anthony replied, “Respect.  I been doing this a while kid, and you can tell the Pen guys.  Plus, you were wearing your boots to and from the shower.”  In the USPs, all the inmates wear their boots to and from the shower for safety reasons.  If someone is going to attack you, the best time is when you have your guard down, like going to the shower in flip flops.  In really tense times, another inmate would escort you and stand guard while you washed off.  Crazy huh?  Anthony saw that no one but me was wearing boots to the shower. 

Because of that one small gesture of respect I gave him, Anthony could tell everyone he associates with that I was a stand up guy.  Because he is respected himself, his approval was as good as a platinum credit card.  As a matter of fact, on my way to lunch the next day there were no less than 15 New York and Boston guys that I had never seen or met who spoke to me.  “How ya doin’ pal?  You need anything, you let us know.”  Word travels fast, and it travels even faster when there is a negative report. 

So now you can see how crucial a positive image is in prison - it can be a matter of serious injury, even life and death.  Respect and one’s word are the only currency convicts have on the inside, and once either of those is compromised (even a little), they both fall away.   In here just like so many other places in life, anything worth having has to be earned. 

A Letter from Solitary

           On this journey called life we never know when we are going to hit a bump in the road. If we stumble and fall we have to pick ourselves up and move on. It is easier task for some than for others.
We found out last week that Matt's scheduled move to a minimum security facility has been delayed. Two days before his departure he was attacked by a new inmate and transferred to the SHU or Special Housing Unit. He sent this letter that reminds me of the son I once knew. I want to share it with you.

Mom,

How's it goin"?  Well, I guess you know it's not going very well here.  This is the craziest thing - it's even got me a little bit depressed.  I'm really struggling right now.  I just can't figure it out - I don't bother anybody, all I do is my schoolwork in the morning, exercise for a couple of hours, and then relax in the evening.  It's like I'm cursed in this prison and trouble follows me.  I just need to get out of here.  I'm waiting to see if I still leave on the next bus, which is August 6.  If I'm not gone by then, I will have to take RDAP and get out.  I'll let you know.  Pray for that to happen.  If I don't call or e mail you by August 8th, then I'll be stuck here for another couple of months.  

Don't forget the crosswords because I really need them.  As many as you can 7,8,9 a day even.  It's pretty bad back here, and I still haven't got my property so I can do my schoolwork.  Jeez, everything is falling apart.  I'll make it though.  Sorry all of this happened, but I probably would have gotten hurt badly if I hadn't defended myself.  This is prison, and anyone in here is capable of anything at anytime.  Believe it or not, I did the right thing.  This is just a different world than we've ever seen.  I just look at is as the "Rehab of all Rehabs" - this is what I have to go thru to get clean for good.  Well, I gotta go for now, but just pray for things to work out - you used to always tell me that.

I love you and Dad, and really appreciate everything you do, have done, and tried to do for me.  I can only call out once a month, so I should get to use the phone again until I'm out.  I'll write and keep you posted. 

Love you,    Matt

Where is the Prison?

        There seems to be a lot of interest in incarceration lately. Sunday’s newspaper had a lengthy article about the deplorable conditions in the Alabama prison system. Television is full of shows about prison lockup and life behind bars. There is even a show now about life in a women's prison. Orange may be the new black, but the men where I visit wear khaki.
        One thing is for sure, our country spends a lot of time and resources on the criminal justice system. It's sad that we spend so much money on reforming prisoners when we could be spending it on educating and training them before they become a problem. I guess that is why the Bible asks us to remember those in prison as if we were in prison with them. God knew we would always have prisoners who need help and the promise of hope.
         I have learned much since Matt's arrest and conviction, but one thing I am certain about: he was in prison even before he was arrested. His life was in a constant state of turmoil because of his addiction. He was afraid of everything. He couldn't sleep. He was unhappy. He had no purpose. His prison then did not have bars, but he was chained to a life of misery and hopelessness. It's no wonder that he tried to take his own life. He saw no other way out.
         I remember the words of one sweet little lady at church who was consoling me right before Matt's court appearance. With a determined voice and a stern pointed finger she reminded me that there are a lot more things worse than prison. Her words have proven to be true.
       God has protected Matt. He has given him wisdom. He has provided words of encouragement from family, friends, and church members. And most importantly, God has allowed him to come clean from a strong addiction even while behind the walls and fences of a maximum security prison.
        I don't know what tomorrow may bring but for now I choose to be
confident of this, "that He who began a good work in you (Matt) will carry it on to completion until the day of Christ Jesus." Philippians 1:6
Thank you Lord for your promise.

Another Visit, Finally!

     I got to visit my son last weekend. It's been a year since we got to talk face to face. That's a long time for a momma not to get to hug her first born.

    The visit went well even though I had to be "patted down." The workers tell me every time things like that happen it is random, but I seem to be the random person every time. Wish I could have that much good luck in Vegas!

     There are many differences between a maximum security facility and a

medium. We can take our keys back and there are not as many locked gates to pass through, but some rules never change: always sign the form, bring you driver’s license, and prepare to WAIT!

    What I dislike the most is not knowing all the details. Should I leave my ID with the form? Will these earrings pass the metal detector?  Who goes first when we congregate outside before visitation starts. It reminds me of the first day of school with a new teacher. You know the school rules, but you’re not sure of the teacher's expectations.

     Some things do not change. Our time is spent buying every snack from the vending machine my son could possible consume. A friend once asked if we got to eat lunch with Matt. The answer is yes if you count a burger and fries warmed in a microwave as a meal. We usually let him do all the eating.

     We managed to get our picture taken this visit. I wanted a memento of

his long hair. He will not let anyone without barber training touch his hair. He still has a sense of pride even in prison. 

     Luckily my husband had a spare pair of shorts in the trunk this time.

He had worn khakis - a visitation no-no. Guess they were afraid he would be mistaken for an inmate.

     We were told we could not wait on the grounds until visiting hours.

That is a new rule at this location. At the maximum we might have to wait for hours if there were problems in the facility. And you could always count on an hour delay if you arrived between 9:30 and 10:00. The "count" started at 10 and everything shut down until it was over. We were told that here the visitors lined up in their cars just outside the gate and made a long caravan coming onto the grounds in order. We had just broken our first protocol, but no one faulted us this time.

      One thing I have learned to do is stay calm and be attentive. Most

things I have learned by simply watching. And I believe God gave me a gift for smiling. I smile a lot. It comes naturally with having a sense of humor. I've also learned that it's hard to be ugly to someone who smiles.