In God's Time

I knew the name of this blog before I ever wrote it or even organized my thoughts on the subject.  Usually its the other way around for me, I write, then search for the name.  This particular subject I have battled with all my life...In God's Time....but I want it NOW!!!  And I want it my way!!!  Sound familiar?

While in prison, just prior to being accepted into the Faith Dorm I was accepted to participate in a Retreat Weekend, held by a prison ministry called "KAIROS".  The way we were considered for this weekend is to write a request into the prison chaplain explaining why we want to attend the Kairos weekend.  I wrote three times, it seemed important enough to me to become a squeaky wheel.  And, sure enough, I received far more than I ever imagined possible. 

A little definition is in order here.  "Kairos" is a Greek word meaning undetermined time when something special happens.  In contrast "Chronos" is the Greek word for chronological or sequential time.  To take this a step further, in Christian theology kairos refers to "the appointed time in the purpose of God", the time when God acts.  For example Mark 1:15 says "the time is fulfilled, and the kingdom of God is at hand....." this is referring to kairos time.  This retreat weekend was indeed, a time for God's purposes, His presence was enormous and awesome, the transformations among us were amazing and inspiring.

To start with, it was held in the gymnasium which had been partitioned off into sections.  A section for group meetings, a section for worship and a section for eating. On a Thursday evening we were ushered into the gym and every two of us were assigned a volunteer.  We were offered a buffet dinner...fresh fruits, fresh vegetables, olives and finger sandwiches.  That may not sound like a big deal to you, BUT it was GIANT to us.  I had not had fresh veggies or fruit since incarcerated ...at that time it had been two and a half years and I craved these delicacies.  For others it had been even longer.  After filling our bodies with healthy food, they began to fill our hearts and minds with healthy thoughts and feelings through songs, sharing and presentations.  These women, the volunteers, had unconditional love down to a tee, they embraced each one of us just as we were.  Not one of us ever felt judged, we were brought into this circle of Christian women with open arms.  I don't think I have ever experienced so much love at once.  The women came from several different denominations...there were Baptist, Methodist, Episcopalians, Catholics and Lutheran to name a few.  They came from churches all around, some from as far as 50+ miles away.  Some of the volunteers were ministers at their churches. 

At night we had to return to our cells to sleep.  We were then brought back Friday, Saturday and Sunday.  In all we were together about 36 hours.  They provided our meals, which were home cooked by volunteers outside the prison.  Another large volunteer group that we never saw were the prayer warriors.  These were volunteers specifically assigned to each one of us and were to pray for that person all weekend.  They wrote us personal notes and sent them in, they took prayer requests from us and included that in their prayers. 

The presentations to us were shared among the volunteers.  After a presentation we then did group projects based on our understanding and presented those projects to the entire group.  So the presentations to us were turned into an experiential learning, a much better way for us to retain and connect to our lessons.  There were approximately 50 inmates and the volunteer group inside with us was approximately 35-40 women.  As we were walking in each morning the volunteers surrounded us and sang to us.  It was so beautiful.  I still get tears when I think of how joyful that weekend was....it was like an oasis in the middle of a desert and we were just thirsting for what they gave us.  The community that grew among us became an enormous force of nature...we carried it with us for the remainder of my time there...and I'm certain it continued long after I left. 

On Saturday morning we were each handed a small piece of rice paper and told to write names of people we needed to ask forgiveness from on one side and those we needed to forgive on the other side...we kept it with us throughout the day and wrote names as they came to us.  Then later that evening we had a worship service on forgiveness and prayed on our lists.  At the end of that service the minister was at a table with a large bowl of water and a wooden spoon, we each went up and put our list in the water, one at a time, and as she stirred we watched it dissolve.  Following that exercise there were ministers in each corner of the room so we lined up (if we wanted) and were prayed over while that minister washed our hands.  The power of that entire experience and the feeling of freedom was beyond words.  It made the actual prison walls surrounding us seem like nothing, as we realized how withholding of forgiveness (in either direction) really creates a prison within, one for which there is no parole unless we make the choice to let go and speak those words and clean our thoughts.  I started out that morning saying I was not a grudge holder so I wouldn't have anybody on my list...then as the day went on...my list grew and grew as I became more and more honest with myself.

Also offered during the weekend were individual counseling sessions with ministers of our choice, but only if we wanted.  I had been grappling with the forgiveness issue regarding my false accusers.  I had prayed over this several times, but seemed to have circular thinking.  I met with one of the ministers I felt most comfortable with, asking if it made sense for me to continue with my appeal/habeas if I have truly forgiven them?  Giant question for me.  It was her belief that I was dealing with two separate issues, making them one.  It was okay for me to pursue clearing my name (sticking to the facts of the case) and at the same time forgive these men.  The two actions could live hand in hand inside of me.  I began to understand, and was provided a sense of relief.  I still work on this and when I feel the anger surface again (as it does), I lift it up, let it go and move on.  Sometimes my husband gets angry at me for not being more angry, but I know that anger, if I were to hold on to it, would just kill me (if not physically, then spiritually for sure).

Everything in God's time...I have to remember that!  My parole was granted that very Friday while I was at the Kairos Retreat, although I wouldn't find out about it for another three weeks.  When I came home several months later I found that sweet Nate, my special needs son, had regressed significantly.  I had heard about this but never imagined how bad things were for him.  My husband's health had deteriorated because of diabetes, he never let on in his letters but his last couple visits were somewhat revealing.  My other son, Brandon, had survived the best, but basically had been very much on his own soon after I left, doing it the best he could (like being in the family group but not connected).  I have to remind myself...the healing is all in God's time too....for all of us.  The habeas is still not filed, I pray on that also.  That habeas has to be the best it can be, because it is a one-shot deal.  God's time!!  His perfect time.  It all boils down to trust and faith.

The POWER of Prayer!

As I mentioned in a prior post, the Hobby Unit, located in Marlin, Texas was an eye opening and scary experience for me during my short five week stay.  Hobby holds the unique distinction of being the worst women's prison in the United States.  On the drive over in the van, I could not figure out how I had come to be assigned to Hobby, a maximum security Unit.  It held the lifers and many of the most on-going violent criminals in the system.  I had never received a case for any violation since incarcerated, had a reputation among the officers for working hard and being respectful.  In fact most prisoners and officers who came to know me could not figure out why I was there...they always said I did not belong.  Most women I met had been drug users at one time or another and many of them said within minutes of meeting me "You've never done drugs, have you?"  The answer for me is "No, Never". 

In orientation the second day at Hobby, conducted by the Head of Security, we were informed the Unit was as bad as all the stories we had ever heard and perhaps worse.  When first arriving at Hobby we are housed in either Building 1 or Building 2, both are considered transitional buildings.  Building 1 is primarily for those in solitary confinement but takes overflow from those coming into the Unit.  Building 2 is for those coming in and those with behavior cases.  I was placed in Building 2.  There exist a lot of violence in those two buildings.  For example, the first week I was there, one woman, sitting on a bench watching TV, was approached from behind, and with razors her face was sliced up.  The Slicer put individual razors between her fingers and just started slashing.  There was no particular argument between the two, she was just present when the Slicer decided to do something to get attention.  The person doing the slicing was mad because her girlfriend was put in solitary confinement and she wanted to be in Building 1 with her.

I worked as an all night janitor, thankfully.  Those on the "hoe squad" went out in rain and worked in the fields with mud up to their knees some days.  The men officers overseeing them, on horses, call out obscenities to them all day and didn't allow them to use the bathroom, therefore they were having to relieve themselves in their clothes and if it was their period, they were left to bleed all over themselves.  My cell mate came home one day after one of these traumatic experiences, crying her eyes out.  Many of us gathered around her and helped the best we could with her mud and blood soaked clothes and shoes. 

We  lived in two-people cells and unlike other Units where the doors were left unlocked, ours' were locked and would only open for a few seconds at scheduled times.  We had to decide whether we wanted to be in the violence ridden day room or locked inside our cells.  Inside my cell was my choice so long as I had a cell mate that I felt safe with, which is what I had for the first two weeks.  At the end of two weeks I was transferred to Building 4, which in theory was considered a much better place to be.  

As I walked toward the cell door lugging my mattress, sheets, blanket and personal items I looked up at the woman standing outside the door.  When our eyes met she rolled her eyes, muttered some obscenities and went inside the cell.  I followed her in and knew I was in trouble.  This women did not like me.  She was 33 years old, had been in the TDCJ system for over 13 years.  She had a 40 year sentence for murdering a man while she was burglarizing his home at the age of 19.  She would be up for consideration of parole at 20 years, but did not expect to make parole.  She was completely institutionalized and angry.  She had a reputation for beating up her cell mates and others, and was in this building because she had not done it in a while.

She quickly informed me everything in the cell was hers.  All electric outlets, all hooks, shelves and tabletop.  She would allow me the bottom bunk and one storage unit below the bunk.  She went crazy when she found any of my hair on the floor (I am talking one strand of hair).  She hated my hair, my smell (I was clean!), my shoes, really everything about me.  She threatened to kill me quite often which I didn't take lightly.  I found myself living in absolute fear.  She made it clear that I better never say anything to an officer about her because she or one of her friends (she said she had them everywhere) would get me.  I wrote home A LOT but of course nobody from the outside could really help me either. 

I FINALLY GOT IT!  I started praying constantly....this must be what God was talking about...we had to get to the very end, where we had no place to turn, but to Him, to really see Him and what He could do for us.  I prayed for safety, I prayed thanking Him for my life and telling Him I wanted to live to go home to my family, I asked Him to move me to another place, I prayed that He might help my cell mate in some way that would make life easier and kinder for her.  And I sat on my bunk bed with my Bible opened and my eyes trained on His Word every moment we were locked in that cell together.  I felt a calm come over me.  She did notice my Bible and my reading of it and tended to back off more and more.  One day she even brought some Christian pamphlets to me, saying she thought I would like them...I thanked her and avidly read them. 

Her aggression became more focused outside the cell, in the day room, where she had screaming fights and physical fights, but was never reprimanded by the officers.  One day she asked me about my life before prison, what I did for a living.  She thought on that a couple days, then asked if I would write a letter for her regarding a property settlement issue (related to an oil & gas deal) she had with her mother's estate.  I did it, she liked it and signed it and sent it off right away.  Then she asked me to explain my case and the habeas process to her and I did.  She asked me if that might apply to her.  I didn't really know but was willing to help her write a couple letters requesting the advice she needed and possible representation.  We did those letters together.  That very night an officer came to our cell door following the 10:00 count and told me to pack up I was being transferred.

I was so excited, my prayers were answered!  I was being shipped to the Lockhart Unit, an air conditioned facility, minimum security, visits in person (rather than through a window, on a phone).  As I was leaving I wished my cell mate the best and she wished me the same.  I have often thought about her and prayed for her, although I will probably never see her again. 

God is so faithful.  He patiently waits for us.   He answers our prayers.  All glory is due Him.  I am just so grateful for His presence in my life.