{Continued from Reality Check || Thoughts From Our Night in Prison}
When presented opportunity to serve a Christmas dinner to inmates at a mid-level security prison, my immediate thought was “of course”. When my father-in-law asked for our children to help, my immediate thought was…
…the same.
My husband and I had served meals on other occasions at this facility (my father in law has a 16-year ministry-relationship there) and I felt like the environment would be controlled and safe…enough, anyway. When asked their opinion, the kids were cautiously interested. They trust our judgment, they trust their grandfather, and I think after hearing about his prison ministry their entire lives, they wanted to see it themselves.
They didn’t ask many questions during the days leading up to the Christmas dinner, but on the drive over, their nervous energy increased as the miles between us and our destination decreased. Pulling into the parking lot and seeing two-story tall razor wire fences, going through security that makes the airport look like a walk in the park, watching as every food item carried in was inspected (has anyone ever actually tried to sneak a steel file in a cake?) was sobering. We moved in groups through sections of the prison, having to wait for mechanical doors to be unbolted, stepping through, then hearing the click and clang of locks behind us.
The inmates, clad in identical, nondescript gray prison garb, were milling around three-quarters of a large, sparse-but- utilitarian common room, tables ready and rounded by chairs; in the remaining area, a series of long tables covered in white paper were waiting to be filled with ham, chicken, rice and gravy, green beans, slaw, rolls…and generous slices of homemade apple, pecan and lemon pie.
Everything is regimented in prison; there’s no room for negotiation, you do as you’re told whether you’re incarcerated or visiting the incarcerated. If memory serves me correctly we had 2 1/2 hours to set up, serve dinner, eat, have a program, clean up and leave.
Here are thoughts from those 2 1/2 hours:
A child’s perspective–
My three were eager to serve, they did NOT want to be relegated to fixture status. They greedily positioned themselves at the front of the serving line so they could DO something (they explained this to me after the fact). Afterwards, during the ride back to my in-laws, they were a bundle of energy, their words and impressions mingling surprise with satisfaction.
Rachel remembered specific inmates; she wants to go back and she felt like she was “doing what Jesus would do”. Rachel gets frustrated by Christian lip service; what encourages her faith is when she sees action, when her hands and feet are exercised.
Stephen, my youngest, admitted he was scared at first. He, too, thought everyone was “really nice” and wants to do this again.
Thomas appreciated how almost everyone spoke to him and thanked him, especially the ones who joked around with him.
They saw these men as men, not prisoners; they had no fear. They didn’t make judgments, but they did wonder what crimes were committed. And they’re already ready to return.
A changed heart–
We served dinner to about 80 murderers, rapists, drug dealers and thieves, yet all I saw were men who had been redeemed and bought with a price, the life of Christ. There was no condemnation, these men are living forgiven lives with severe consequences…never have I seen such level ground at the foot of the cross. Their countenance seemed to radiate what was in their heart: instead of despair and dejection, I saw joy and deliverance…bodies imprisoned but hearts set free.
Only about 5% of the general population earned the right to attend; my heart grieved the reasons the remaining 1,500+ weren’t able to.
A look–
With the exception of the first two men in line, every inmate looked me in the eye, thanked me, and verbalized their appreciation for the meal. The first two men didn’t make eye contact…I wondered why.
A touch–
For efficiency, rather than inmates filling their own plates, we passed them down the line and each server spooned generous helpings on each plate, passing them down to the next server; inmates didn’t take their plate until they reached the “bread girl”–me. I noticed that almost every person touched my hand when I gave them their plate. This touch wasn’t “necessary”, the hand-off could’ve taken place without contact. It could’ve bothered me, but at some point during dinner, it occurred to me these men rarely have “kind” touches; my blogging friend Lizzie (whose husband is currently in prison) confirmed this in her comment on my first “Reality Check” post. It stirred my mama recall and I ruminated those times when all my babies needed was a loving touch from me to heal their boo-boo du jour. These men have a lot of “boo-boos”….
Good Manners–
“Please” and “Thank You” were said 10,000 times, heartfelt and sincerely. Emily Post would’ve been proud.
Wow…that is soooooooo sweet that yall did that! =)
About the first two guys that DIDN’T look you in the eye…my thought is they might be ashamed of what they have done and thinking you would judge them even though you didn’t!?!?! That is just my guess!?!?!
A lot of my family work in the prisons here in Texas! There are good and bad in there! My Uncle is the BEST story teller…he tells some GREAT stories about the inmates…their real life and their manners!!! My cousin is a prison guard for one of the prison farms…his wife has even cooked some of his special inmates dinners that help him on the farm!!! It’s just nice to know you can help and that they were very appreciative of that!!!
I know it must make you and your family feel so GOOD inside!!!! =)
What a wonderful post! It always amazes me how thoughtful children are these days. You have a good crew there at home, and you are doing such a good job as a mom… it is evident in everything they do 🙂
I would have to agree, maybe those first in line felt self-conscious because they were first in line, and maybe they just felt a sense of unworthiness. Maybe they don’t have the concept of salvation yet; no man deserves to be saved, we were saved by grace alone.
I’m wondering about the not looking at you.
You could have reminded them of a loved one.
It’s very painful to look at someone that looks like your loved one but not be that person. (Don’t know if that makes sense)
If they had never met you, they don’t know what your eyes are going to hold. It’s easier to not look then to see the judgment in people’s eyes.
I never look at guards or other workers coming out of the prison when I’m going in.
When I have, they avert their eyes. I can’t remember one hello from any worker that I passed on my way in.
I’m judged because I’m visiting in inmate–so I prefer not to look.
They simply could have been very shy. Also they aren’t around ladylike women and may not have been for a long time.
Perhaps they thought it would be more respectful to look down than to have you think they were staring at your beauty!
Maybe I’ll ask my husband what he thinks.
You and your family are grace in action. May God continue to bless you.
This is your most beautiful blog post. Thank you for sharing. It makes me want to do the same.
“Just as you did it for the least of these brothers or sisters of mine, you did it for me.”
I have really wanted to become involved in a prison ministry. This has been a wonderful read. Thank you for sharing.
Jeannie, I don’t know whether we’re more pleased to join my in-laws in their weekly ministry or just to be a friend to the sometimes forgotten…. Whatever the case, I don’t want to gloss over the fact most of these guys did something BAD to end up where they are, but the beauty is REDEMPTION! Seeing these guys radiate joy and peace? Well, I know people walkin’ around every day who don’t understand that. I BET your family can tell some stories…!
Mert, Gosh, I’m keenly aware of that…grace alone, not because of anything worthy I’ve done!
Lizzie, you made perfect sense with all your speculations. My FIL says this is a “different” kind of prison…people from all over the state want to get transferred there because of its “good” reputation. I’m pretty certain it has a lot to do with his devotion to these men for all these years.
My heart broke with what you said about the people who work there not looking at you, making judgments. I guess they’re jaded by having seen the worst in some people.
Let me know if Lee has additional insights…
Sandy, we’re blessed to be a blessing, yes? Thanks, sweets.
Heather, I’m sure it won’t come as a surprise that that reference WAS in the post Typepad ate :/…and you’ll see it again in my next “Reality” post…
Judi, there are a lot of ways to become involved…I hope you find your place :).
I found that a really moving post. I’m sure all those men appreciated what you and your family did even the two who gave no eye contact. It must have been a bitter sweet experience for them, seeing your lovely children, as I’m sure it would have reminded them of their own families.
wonderful post. plus it is always heartening to see your children rise to the occasion.
Nice. Really nice. A wonderful entry. Your kids are growing up well. I look forward to the next installment. Hugs, e-Mom
(Back to my bloggy break now…) :~D
What a wonderful thing to do and to experience!
How blessed to be used of the Lord in that way!
My parents worked in the prison ministry for several years and it was a big part of their life for awhile.
God bless!
~Tammy
I think the hardest part for me (walking into the belly of Maximum Security) was to see the youngsters. Such young men to be in there. Broke my heart.
What a wonderful gift you and your family gave on Christmas day. I’m sure the men will remember it for a long time.
Thanks for sharing this story. The meal served to our prisoners was neither as friendly, or palatable.
The whole touching thing ripped at my heart. They need touch just like the rest of us.
I am so interested in these posts about serving at the prison. It is something I would so love to do with my boys, but I admit (with some shame), would be a bit nervous about.
I love that your children took to it so well. And it is such a beautiful lesson for them.
Thank you for these wonderful lessons you are giving me as well.
Robin, I’m so touched by this post (and the previous one on this topic).
This post reminded me of the many times my grandmother (and another friend) took us along to serve in homeless shelters, girl’s homes, nursing homes because she was so filled with love by the Holy Spirit and moved to do what He wanted. (We never had any fear either…and never once had any problems. Ever.)
I was just reading about visiting prisoners in the Bible night before last. Hmm….maybe Someone is tugging me to find out how to do it here in England…..
Thanks for sharing;). xo
Wow. Another great read. Thanks.
That was so moving and thought provoking. The fact that they all touched your hand really got me. A wonderful post