NY
11:15 AM
I was a bit leery as I sat out in the parking lot, staring at the high fences with barbed wire all over it. I wasn’t sure if I really was supposed to go into the jail to meet inmates. I wasn’t sure if what my parent’s were doing was the right thing. Why are they here for the whole weekend?
There was a group of about ten in the parking lot, waiting to go in. They were doing the same thing I was. I let them be together for a while. I listened to the football games on the radio (Cowboys stink) and ate a little leftovers I had brought (porkchop, rice, and pineapple). I had sat in my car for about ten minutes and finally decided I was getting out and going in. I had come this far, I wasn’t going to go home. No inmate is going to scare me. I’m there to help out my parents. If they are in there, I will too.
I got out and met the group. It was a diverse group. There were couples in their 50’s and 60’s. There were 3 college students. Becky’s dad was there and he and I talked for most of the lead up time.
The Deacon came out and we gave him our release forms. We then passed through security. We all cleared and were put in a tiny room until the bus came to get us. It was here my mind raced.
There were now 14 of us. It was pretty even in male to female. I had already written the news story. Prison riot ongoing. 14 people caught inside along with 20 others ministering to the inmates. I saw fires and violence. I saw the rebellion of the inmates and their anger. My mind was going. “OK, bus is here.”
And we were off. We were told we couldn’t use our last names or tell them too many details. If they wanted a hug, we had to do it in the guy hug way, with the handshake. There were some other rules that I don’t recall. Some of the people of the 14 had done this before and that made me feel better.
Lucky for me I had never been inside a jail before. It was strange, being in there, seeing the gates lock, seeing the yard where they exercised, and that darn fence with the wire. Scenes from various movies played in my head. Most of the scenes were not of them playing chess. The bus pulled up to the building and we filed out, past another security officer, and into a small room. In the distance we could hear singing and clapping. We stayed in the room for a few minutes.
I guess I should explain what this is. There is a prison ministry, a group that goes into the jails and talks with inmates about God. The inmates sign up for the weekend. I think there were 25 inmates and 20 volunteers. The civilians give talks about their life and how they came to know God. The inmates listen and share their own stories. They do it in small groups. My mom and dad were helpers of two separate tables. They arrived on Friday night and would leave Monday afternoon. They didn’t sleep in the jail, but ate meals with the inmates.
I fit into the picture by coming in on Sunday for what they called a Hoot. This is where the inmates see that there are others on the outside thinking about them. The inmates then give a short witness talk about what the weekend experience has meant to them.
There was a song put on the chalkboard of our room. I can’t remember it, but it was to be playing in the big room. The inmates didn’t know we were coming, so in the middle of the song, we walked into the room singing and clapping. I guess I should say I am probably not a guy God would pick to talk to others about God, but he might use me as an example as someone searching for more to life. And we walked in. Eyes turned to us. We were clapping as they were. I sung a little but could not remember the words, so I clapped. Smiles were everywhere. I know I had a big one. I saw my mom and came over and gave her hug. The song ended and we began to meet everyone. My mom introduced me to her table. I won’t name names, but they all complemented on my mom and dad. I said I was lucky to have them. The smiles were huge.
My dad had to leave earlier in the day because of unforeseen work stuff, but mom brought me over to his table. I met his guys. Another guy from another table came over and greeted me. He told my dad he wanted to meet me. We all talked for a while and then sat down. I sat at my mom’s table. The guy I sat next to whispered to me, “Thanks for coming. This weekend I feel like I’m not in jail.” He went on to add, “Until we leave and they frisk us.”
As I sat there I looked around. The energy of this room was unlike any I had seen in a long time. I had an internal smile that was huge. I didn’t want to look weird or anything, so I smiled to myself. There were some songs, some cookies and brownies, and then it was time for the guys to give their talks. Table by table they went up there. Some guys didn’t say much. But to hear what this weekend was doing for people, it was amazing. They talked about being all bottled up and this being a great release for them. One guy apologized for the threats and the violence he caused to others. One guy spoke about how he was getting out this Friday and that he would carry this feeling on to the outside. Guys teared up as they talked about how nice it was to have people believe in them. The thank you’s were plenty. They talked about how the other inmates would be sizing them up as they got out of the meetings each night. They all said, we were just smiling and at peace. I’m on a cloud when I get out of here. Another said he didn’t feel like he was in jail. I know BS’ers. These guys were not BS’ing. The emotions were deep and true. It rubbed off on me.
I’m not sure what it was about being in there. But the energy of that room was incredible. I’m not sure if it was God or just God in the people, but it was amazing and almost indescribable. I don’t know what’ll happen to the guys when they get out, but for one weekend, they were in another place. A better place. And I was glad to be there with them.