Soon after that, I was leading Sunday evening worship. We had a good evening, and I was just about ready to wrap things up when this same young lady said, "Chaplain, the Lord laid a song on my heart. Do you think I could sing it now?" Not knowing what might be coming, I tentatively said, "Sure." Marsha took us right to heaven that night with her song of gratitude. She had the voice of an angel.
Marsha spent a lot of hours in the chaplain's office. She was tired of prison life... I believe that was her fourth incarceration. Drugs had gotten hold of her at an early age. She had really tried, though. At one point she had gotten her life together and had become a licensed CNA. But then her mother became the patient she cared for in her final stages of cancer. Marsha told me of the day she spent at the dining room table with her mom, and she apologized to her for every time she ever disappointed her. They made their peace, and her mom soon lost her fight.
One of Marsha's greatest sources of shame and blame was the fact that, even though she had been in recovery for some time, she left her mother's funeral and went to a crack house. Relapsed again, she found herself in prison, and in the chaplain's office. She taught me so much about recovery, and about the difference in abstinence and recovery. One day she told me a story that I have quoted so many times. She said it was a really hot day, and she was sitting out on the prison yard. She started thinking about how good a beer would taste right then. She said to herself, "Okay, Marsha, you play that tape all the way to the end. You know you would walk to the store and buy a case of beer, you would drink every one of them, and then, dissatisfied, you would make your way to the crack house." She said, "Chaplain, relapse begins in the brain. It starts with a thought. I need to remember to play the tape all the way to the end, or I'll be back in prison or dead."
The day before her release, Marsha expressed her concerns to me. Her sister was coming to pick her up, and she was afraid she wouldn't understand recovery. Marsha had a plan to stop, on the way home, and attend a noon NA meeting. She was sold on the whole 90-meetings-in-90-days concept. But she was convinced that her family believed all she needed was Jesus. She said, "Chaplain, you see that oak tree over there? The Bible tells me that if I have enough faith, I can move that tree, but I know I will be more successful if I have a bulldozer. That's what NA is for me." She called me a week later and told me she was doing well. That was the last time I heard from her.
Today I learned that Marsha lost her life on March 8, 2009, at the age of 35, the victim of a hit-and-run. I don't know why she was walking on Cemetery Road in the dark. I don't know the results of the toxicology report. I do know this: Marsha is free. She is free of addiction and the struggle of recovery. She will never return to prison. Marsha loved Jesus, and she loved to sing. She loved people. She loved her family. She taught me lessons that I use almost every day in the chaplain's office as I continue to encourage, love, confront, and hold women accountable when they ask for my help. Kyrie.
