I went to prison again today for a visit. My wife and I drove an hour to get there only to find out you can't wear shorts in to visit. I was quite frustrated since the sign says no shorts above the knees and mine could cover my knees easily. Especially if I wear them like so many others. You know, with half my backside hanging out.
It was 10:35 and I couldn't get in until 11:30 even if I had pants on because they were going to do a count. So I told my wife, "It looks like we wasted our time and gas, we might as well head home." Of course, she being the brains for the both of us says, "We could just go to the nearest town, pick up some jeans and come back. Then it would be about the time you could go in." I replied, "Yeaaaaa! I was thinkin' that too." Not really, I was too ticked at the lady guard who was taking her authority a little too seriously.
It worked perfectly. I walked in through the first doors at about 11:45. I presented my ID to the guard and filled out the paperwork. I sat down and waited for my friends name to be called. At 12:15 his name was called. I went up to the desk, got my badge, empty my pockets, and walked through the metal detector. I then stood at the next door and waited until 12:35. I then proceed to the visitation area and report to the guard there. He assigns me a seat and I wait until 1:00 until my friend comes in.
We shake hands and hug. He talks. I listen. I talk . He listens. We share how we are feeling, what we are thinking. We talk about life in the cage and life outside the cage. We talk about God and his forgiveness no matter what we have done. He struggles to grasp it because in his mind his past defines who he is. I try to explain but my words seem to fail. The words of Martha Manning ring in my ear, "Unless you've been lost in this particular section of hell yourself, don't you dare try to give me directions." At 2:00 I tell him I need to go. After all I have left my beautiful bride out in the car for the past 2+ hours. I leave and we drive the hour drive back home.
We left home at 9:30. We get home at 3:00. Doubt creeps in. Am I just wasting my time? How many chances has he had? How many times has he blown it? Will he ever get it? Is there any hope that he will change? This is what the world says. This is what many who know him say. People have given up on him but I don't think God has. I'll keep writing. I'll keep visiting. I'll keep praying.
What if you were known for the worst thing you have ever done?
This gives me inspiration.
2 comments:
Lately, when I visit here, it is as if you have been in my home. My oldest son, who is 21, has been going through quite a lot lately, and making decisions that are well, not so good. Recently, we took him back in and I questioned whether giving him chance after chance was worth it. After reading this, I know it is. God has never left me and sometimes all it takes is one person who cares enough...thank you.
Annie,
I can understand your situation. I was that 21 year old making bad decisions 21 years ago. There is hope. I also have a 21 year old son who doesn't always make the wisest choices. We just love him and pray for him. I always try to keep in mind God is in control of it all even when things seem out of control. I'm thrilled God is visible through the waters I muddy with my words. Thanks for following and I also appreciate your kind and encouraging words.
Post a Comment