God is a really big God!

One of the greatest joys in my ministry as a chaplain is watching the faces of women as they realize I’m not going to condemn them for having a “non-Christian” faith practice. Sometimes they insinuate (or say it outright) that they have not felt this acceptance at other prisons. More often than not, in my experience, these women have roots in Christianity, but they have chosen to follow another practice. Some had horrendous experiences that sent them searching.

Yesterday, though, I had the joy of talking with a woman who grew up with a strong family practice of Native American spirituality. In the past I’ve spoken with several Cherokee and Lumbee women, but they did not seem to embrace their native spirituality. These conversations had hints of women being told or taught those ancient practices were wrong.

It will take some work, but I am so excited for the opportunity to learn from “S”. The first order of business is to request a visit from our American Indian Chaplain, Raymond Clark, to assist in purifying an area for a sacred prayer circle. I love to hear him play the flute. That music somehow reaches deep into my soul and draws me right into the Holy Presence. Aho.

I Baptize You My Sister...

Kimberly is ready! She began meeting regularly with me about a month ago, talking about her salvation experience and her desire to be baptized before she leaves prison. I believe God has been working in her—leading, drawing, directing her to this very day. On Easter Sunday evening, it will be my honor to share that sacred experience of baptism with her.

It will sound strange to my evangelical friends that this is our first baptism at Swannanoa Correctional Center for Women. The reasons are many. First, a great number of women who come to us grew up in church, mostly Baptist, and have already been baptized. I think most people on the “outside” assume people in prison are “bad” and could not possibly have been Christian. Many would be surprised, as I was, to learn that our population is made up of people from all walks of life. In fact, one of my most unexpected conversations, just recently, was with a woman who was both a devoted Christian and a middle school teacher before her addiction completely took over her life.

Many of the women who were not baptized prior to their incarceration, came to realize their need for God while they were in jail, awaiting conviction and sentencing, or while they were in maximum or medium security. “The Big House” in Raleigh is a horrendous experience for most of them. It is a real wake-up call. Those who transfer to medium security find themselves alone in a cell with a lot of time to contemplate their fate and realize their need for God. Through the ministry of those chaplains and community volunteers, they begin their Christian walk and are baptized.

Other women have begun their Christian journey, but they are seeking a more traditional baptism in a church on the outside. It is our pleasure to work with these women to connect with communities of faith and pastors on the outside. By participating in the Community Volunteer pass program, they are able to go through discipleship classes (varying by denomination). They are loved and nurtured by local congregations. I had the joy of witnessing Terry’s baptism last year at the Disciples of Christ church. She continues to blossom in her new-found faith in these last three years of prison.

Some women have shorter sentences and don’t go through medium security, but come straight to us from Raleigh. More and more of the younger women who find their way to the chaplains’ office are saying, “I never went to church. I don’t know anything about the Bible. I try to read it, but it doesn’t make any sense. I believe in God. I need God in my life so I don’t continue down this same path.” Some of them get into the drug treatment program which is based on the 12 Steps, and they hit a brick wall when they have to sort through this whole higher-power thing. The counselors often refer them to the chaplains. They are the most fun! True seekers! Sometimes claiming to be atheist or agnostic, they have hit rock bottom, and they realize there has to be something more, but their experience with “Christians” is often littered with painful memories. The best we can do for them is to share God’s love, to be that open vessel through which God pours God’s unconditional love into their lives. They often are released before they are ready to make a commitment, but the seed has been planted, and we pray someone out there will water it.

The most obvious obstacle to baptism at our unit is the lack of a baptismal pool. The majority of the women who come to talk about baptism want to go all the way under. They like the tradition and the symbolism of being “buried with Christ” and being “raised to walk in newness of life.” I do, too! However, this year, during Lent, I led a study of baptism, and as we talked about the Didache (essentially a manual for how to do church from somewhere around the turn of the second century), I was reminded of the fact that in church history deep water (“living water”) was not always available, and in those cases the minister used what water was available.

So on Easter Sunday evening I will take a basin of water and a seashell, and I will pour water over Kimberly’s head three times, baptizing her my sister in the Name of the Father, and the Son, and the Holy Spirit. We will do this in front of the women who have been her community of faith on the inside. Women who have nurtured her and taught her what they have come to learn about Jesus the Christ, God’s anointed one who came to be God among us; who lived and loved and taught and healed and chastised the religious community; who was betrayed and beaten and crucified; who died but was then raised to walk in newness of life; who calls us to be God’s anointed, spreading this Good News: we are not alone.

Being Peace

Have you ever seen the painting of the mother bird covering her fledglings in the middle of the raging storm? That picture has been at the forefront of my mind this week as I’ve sought to be peace in the midst of chaos.

It was moving week again! When we first came to the Swannanoa facility in June of 2008, 96 women were moved into Sloop dorm which had been cleaned and painted, but was still in need of some major renovations. Soon the same temporary fix-up was completed in Gilliatt and 96 more women joined us. The first major renovation was recently completed, and this week the women vacated Sloop, with its drafty windows and insufficient electrical outlets for Greenwood.

Moving 80-something women is no small feat! One would think it would be simple when those women’s possessions must fit into three small garbage bags. However, in addition to moving those three bags, they also had to take their bunks apart and move them, the mattresses and bedding, and their lockers. Fortunately, these two dorms are only a few yards apart.

Sounds simple and fairly easy to coordinate. However, when you add 80 incarcerated personalities and who knows how many staff into the mix, you have a recipe for a major explosion. It hasn’t happened, though. I’ve seen a few tiffs, some ruffled feathers, and some rather traumatized-looking faces, but no one totally lost it. I did seem to attract complaints every time I walked through. I would stop and listen, sometimes sympathizing and sometimes chastising, but always trying to remember to pass the peace.

So the picture of that bird in the middle of that storm has been my prayer: help me be peace.

Swannanoa Prison Blues

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.”

Love Inside a Fence

I think it’s a fair statement to say that many of the incarcerated women with whom I work have been negatively impacted by at least one man. Often they are “looking for love in all the wrong places,” and I spend much of my time trying to help them understand that God loves them unconditionally, and their first need is to love themselves. I’m not really sure which comes first, self-forgiveness or self- love. Maybe it’s a single-package deal.

However, once in a blue moon, I sense a true love story, and I am blessed to be part of that journey. Yesterday was one of those exceptions. My husband, Danny, and I were able to witness an unusual event. One of our inmates had been married, but in her addiction, she got a divorce. She came to prison. Her ex-husband stuck by her and wanted to remarry her.

It’s a new day at our little prison that is growing. A year ago we had 96 inmates. Today we have 192. At some point in the not-so-distant future, we expect to have as many as 454 women. With that increase, and very limited funds for chaplain services, we are trying to be careful with every precedent we set. Weddings have not occurred very often, but we recently had two requests, so we set about researching how other units handle the situation. We discovered that if we were not careful we could spend all of our time operating the SCCW Wedding Chapel Express, and we did not feel that would be a wise use of our time. Finally, we had an SOP (Standard Operational Procedure) in place, and permission to move forward.

An important part of the SOP is for the groom to secure the marriage license and find a minister willing to perform the ceremony. For the afore-mentioned couple, this process started on Thursday and culminated on Sunday (except for the fact that the initial request was written in May)! To say he was persistent would be an understatement, but I also believe this was a God-ordained event. He didn’t know any local ministers, and I think he was not quite satisfied with asking a Magistrate. This marriage was about pleasing God. So when he secured the license he asked for and received a referral. He contacted the minister who was touched by the story, agreed to meet with the groom and to provide his services.

While I won’t feel it necessary to always be present for weddings in the chapel, I wanted to be there yesterday so that I could see this “first” and know what glitches we may need to work out in the future. It was just a bride, a groom, and a minister. I pressed Danny into service, and we truly were witnesses. I asked him to go to fulfill a signature on a piece of paper, but, as God would have it, we witnessed the hand of God. With the most humble hearts imaginable, those two cried through the entire service. I had, as an afterthought, plucked a bloom from a hosta outside the chapel door and given it to the bride. Then I took the crocheted shawl I happened to be wearing and placed it over the shoulders of her prison shirt. Beyond those simple things, they had no music, no cake, no guests, no fuss. Just heart-felt “I do”s, sealed with a kiss. Hugs and handshakes. Signatures on a piece of paper, and tearful goodbyes. Four of us walked toward the gate, and the bride went back to her dorm, watching until her beloved was out of sight.

Don’t be sad for them. The future of which they spoke looks bright. She looks forward to being home this time next year, rocking her grand-babies! In the mean time, he will continue the long, four-hour drive to visit his wife, and perhaps, now, she will be approved for home visits. But the most important thing, for them, is that they have set something right in God’s sight and in theirs. Grace abounds inside the fence.

Networking

"Charlie's" mom is ill. She lives three states away, and Charlie has to rely on snail mail for communication. Recently she came to me in tears because she had received a disturbing letter from her mom and there was absolutely nothing she could do. She was powerless. I asked what support her mom has, and Charlie knows of no one. "Mom has been waiting for me to come home. I asked her again to hold on and wait for me, but she says she's tired and she doesn't know if she can." Charlie broke down, sobbing.

I asked if her mom has any connections with a church, and, when the answer was "no," I asked if I could check out the area and see if perhaps a church might step in and offer some kind of support. Charlie was grateful.

I located a church with a Stephen's Ministry not too many miles from her mom. Later she brought her mother's name, address, and phone number to me, and I emailed the coordinator. Today I received an amazing email:

I am so sorry to be responding so late to your request. I have been on vacation since June 28th and decided to not even look at my computer during my vacation. I regret that I did not read your email until tonight.

I happen to be a Mental Health Specialist in a maximum security prison in Florida. I am also a crisis negotiator. Because of both positions, I have friends that work in **. I will try to contact a police office friend and see if he can do a wellness check for you.

Pleas keep in touch and I will also stay in touch with you and let you know as soon as I find anything out.

Isn't God good? I am amazed at His goodness all the time. Can you imagine that I am a Stephen Minister, also work in a prison and know someone in **?

Again, I apologize for the delay because of my vacation, but I will see what I can do.

Indeed, God is good!

Take Up Your Cross and Follow Me

Jesus said it. We quote it. But can we do it.

M is doing it. She is an inmate at Swannanoa Correctional Center for Women. Her family lives thousands of mile away. She gets lonely, as we might all imagine; yet, her faith sustains her. She has only been a Christian for about 18 months now. Last week when she told her husband she was being baptized, he gave her an ultimatum: Do that and I will divorce you.

She had hoped he would bring their daughter to our next Mother/Child Retreat, but now he refuses. He does not want his daughter exposed to "crazy Christians."

I told M that I understand that mindset. If the "crazy Christians" were the only ones I had ever been exposed to, I would have the same reaction. She understands. She says before she met authentic Christians who share the love of Christ rather than the wrath of God, she felt the same way. She really thought all Christians were like the ones who get all the press.

M is beginning to understand that her actions will have to speak. As far as she can tell today, her marriage is over, but her relationship with God has only just begun, and she is being faithful.

"Will you come and follow me if I but call your name..."

Finding a Sense of Purpose...in Prison

I continue to be amazed at the numbers of women who find a sense of purpose in prison ... a totally new concept for them. The story often begins something like this:

"Chaplain, I should have been dead a long time ago."

"So why do you think you're still here?"

"I think God has a purpose for me."

"What do you think it might be."

"I wish I knew."

After multiple conversations, they sometimes discover wonderful answers. Answers that warm the chaplain's heart:

"I just enrolled in a correspondence course to become a certified Substance Abuse Counselor. I want to help people."

Between those two points, not knowing their purpose and speaking their purpose, can lie such mountainous terrain. Despair beckons, "Follow me, for you have done the unforgivable. You are worthless, for you have lost your children. You are using up valuable oxygen." God whispers, "You are my good creation. I love you, no matter what. Just trust me, and I will direct your path." 

Exercising their will on that up-and-down journey, women are able to grow strong in faith. The most successful women discover a sense of balance between faith in God and working the 12-step program. They realize recovery is one day at a time for the rest of their lives. They reach step 12, and they are able to assist others along the journey, but they also realize an every-day need for steps one through 11.

This chaplain's greatest joy, though, is when a woman realizes she doesn't have to wait until she walks out the gate to have a purpose. She is worth something in this very moment. She can begin living a positive life, full of purpose, right now. That is a priceless treasure!

AA Steps

1. We admitted we were powerless over alcohol - that our lives had become unmanageable.

2. Came to believe that a Power greater than ourselves could restore us to sanity.

3. Made a decision to turn our will and our lives over to the care of God as we understood Him.

4. Made a searching and fearless moral inventory of ourselves.

5. Admitted to God, to ourselves and to another human being the exact nature of our wrongs.

6. Were entirely ready to have God remove all these defects of character.

7. Humbly asked Him to remove our shortcomings.

8. Made a list of all persons we had harmed, and became willing to make amends to them all.

9. Made direct amends to such people wherever possible, except when to do so would injure them or others.

10. Continued to take personal inventory and when we were wrong promptly admitted it.

11. Sought through prayer and meditation to improve our conscious contact with God as we understood Him, praying only for knowledge of His will for us and the power to carry that out.

12. Having had a spiritual awakening as the result of these steps, we tried to carry this message to alcoholics and to practice these principles in all our affairs.

Rest in Peace, Marsha

Last year, when we were still at the Black Mountain facility, I was standing outside Master Control as a new bunch of inmates filed past me into the library for orientation. I locked eyes with a young lady, and she continued looking at me. She appeared so young that I thought she might be someone who recognized me from my daughter's high school days. She would later tell me that when she got on the bus in Raleigh, she thought they were headed for Rocky Mount which was near her home. Instead, she found herself all the way at the other end of the state. She said when she saw me, for some reason, she decided it would be okay.

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.

Write NC State Senators and Reps

I just recently learned that it is possible the Community Work Crew program is in jeopardy. I have been a chaplain at Swannanoa Correctional Center for Women (formerly Black Mountain Correctional) for almost two years. It has always amazed me what a difference the work crew can make in a woman's behavior, demeanor, and outlook. I've often wondered about it and even spoken with several inmates about why this is true. I always get the same answers: First, Mr. Hambor, their "boss" as they call him, has a positive influence on them. Second, they are able to stay busy every day, and they feel their work is truly worthwhile as they actually are able to give something back to the community. Third, work gives them a sense of purpose, something every human being needs.

We have several really great programs at SCCW, and they are essential to helping these women stay out of prison. And it's not all about keeping them out, either. I want them to learn to be good citizens. They will live in our neighborhoods, and how great for those who served on the CWC to aleady have a sense of pride about keeping the litter picked up. They also go out with the Black Mountain Beautification Committee and plant flowers. I think the grossest thing they do is clean up the Civic Center after things like the circus and concerts. They still do it with a sense of pride, though. One of the greatest jobs they do, however, is preparing and serving food at the Welcome Table. They get to work with a five-star chef who teaches them about the preparation of healthy food. Then they are able to see those who are able to pay a little extra for lunch enjoying a meal with folk who are hungry. True hospitality and love in action.

I know the North Carolina budget is in trouble. I know cuts must be made, but please, please write your legislators and ask them to keep the Community Work Crews in the budget.

Tenebrae

Last night about fifty inmates gathered with us in the chapel at Swannanoa Correctional Center for Women. As we were planning the service, Lynn and I wondered if we really wanted to offer this service of darkness. After all, it is very dark in prison. As I began to read more about the traditional service I realized you cannot truly appeciate the light of Sunday without the darkness of Thursday and Friday. And so it was.

Lynn led an amazing service of communion, and at one point she said she was going out on a limb and asked if anyone would like to offer a song. A young lady stood with some uncertainty, but soon it was obvious that a strength beyond herself flowed through her mouth, and the room was filled with the beautiful song of thankgiving. Holy ground.

As I looked into the eyes of each of those women and repeated those sacred words, "The body of Christ is broken for YOU," I could feel their gratitude. Holy ground.

The lights were dimmed, and one by one, women stepped forward and read a gospel passage, each extinguishing a purple candle. Darkness descended. The reading was completed by one of our faithful volunteers, Hamp, who fought back tears as he read about the death of Jesus and extinguished the Christ candle. His heart-felt words resonated throughout the room and tears fell.

Silently they left the dark room and walked across the dark prison grounds, yet as they lifted their eyes to the night sky, God provided the light of a full moon. Holy ground indeed, even behind the razor wire. Thanks be to God.