Ever since I began working as a prison chaplain 28 months ago, the words “smoking ban” have been been tossed about, and always with great angst on the part of inmates. Last week their fears became reality.
Chaplain Michie had planned a trip to the beach. I really do believe her when she says she didn’t realize it would coincide with the first three days of the ban! As a peace offering, she purchased what appeared to be an inordinate amount of hard candy and huge bowls which I filled and placed in each dayroom early on Monday morning. And just as the last wafts of smoke had quickly been swept away the night before, the candy disappeared! Seriously! When I walked through the dorms about ten minutes later, I was handed back those huge, empty bowls. That was Day One.
Day Two, there was a heightened sense of anxiety. The women chewed their drinking straws, and I threatened to confiscate pepper spray from the custody staff (with good humor, of course). One officer said, “Chaplain, I just had two women arguing over a towel. A TOWEL!” Walk and drink lots of water became my mantra. I held impromptu classes in the hallways, trying my best to answer questions, grateful I had actually retained some of the words I had heard my friend and personal trainer, Kam, share with smokers. “Don’t panic,” I told them, “if you think you’re getting the flu. It may be your body flushing itself of the toxins. The more water you drink and the more you walk, the sooner you will begin to feel better.”
On Wednesday morning, I hit the Internet, scanning various web sites to verify my hunch. Yep! It would be the pinnacle. Wednesday is my 2-8pm day, so I got the full brunt of it. By the time I arrived, the canteen shelves were totally bare. No chips, no crackers, no candy, no snacks to be had. I announced the chapel was open for anyone who was struggling. “Come on over, have a piece of peppermint, and chill out for a few minutes.” The first woman burst through the front doors and headed down the aisle toward me, arms outstretched. “Chaplain, I can’t take it! My skin is crawling.” I embraced her, giving her a blessing and a peppermint.” Others followed, some simply non-smokers who were tired of the drama and wanted to sit quietly. After supper, another woman came to the office, sat down and talked very loudly for thirty minutes! I ate a peppermint!
At 8:00 I closed up the office but then decided to take one more walk through the dorm that seemed the most anxiety-filled. The first thing I heard was, “Chaplain, my bunkmate is in the sergeant’s office. Something happened at home.” I walked into the office, greeted by a grateful sergeant who thought I had left already. A very young lady sat crumpled in a chair, shaking from head to toe. Through sobs she managed to say, “I prayed so hard. I prayed every day. He can’t die.” Word had come that her dad who was receiving hospice care at home was near death. After sitting with her for a while, I asked if she would like to walk outside. Always in the past, in a moment like that, I would have asked, “Are you a smoker?” On Day Three I realized I would need new rituals. We sat at a picnic table for a while. A cool breeze was blowing as she handed me a picture. It was nearly dark, but the security light revealed a man holding up a large fish. It was all she had to hang on to. When I asked if I could pray with her, she nodded her head. As I was closing that prayer, the gentle breeze became a wind that whipped through our hair. I remember saying, “Ah, You are here, and we are grateful. Thank you for making your presence known.”
After that I took four days off. Monday began a new week. The nicotine withdrawal was over, and the psychological effects were setting in. The rain didn’t help. Tuesday was a beautiful fall day with Carolina blue skies and mountains dripping with reds and yellows. Now it’s Wednesday again and it’s raining again. “Light of God, shine through me. Peace of God, pour through me.”
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