I AM A PRISON MOTHER
I am a Prison Mother. This is not something I chose for my life.This is a road that I am working my way down, because my son made poorchoices in his life. Drugs became his best friend, and crime became hispastime. Now he will be living in a prison, until he has paid his debtto society. This is exactly where he needs to be. I would not changehis life right now, even if I could. My son has made some seriousmistakes. He knows this, and so do I. But, after he puts all of thisbehind him, he will be ready to step forward into the community to bethe man God meant him to be.
This morning I am up very early. It is visiting day at the prisonand I want to be in the line before it gets too long. I shower, dress,take time for a dry piece of toast and a cup of yesterday's coffeewarmed over ... and, I'm out the door and on my way.
Where my son is incarcerated, it costs $7.00 to park your car. Ipay my money, park the car and walk over to where the outside line isalready wrapping around the corner of the outside waiting area. I go tothe end of the line, and prepare to be patient. It is now 8:00 A.M.Some of the people at the head of the line have been here since lastnight. They have sleeping bags, blankets, sacks of food and sad faces.Some of these people I see over and over. They are there for a visitwith their loved one each time I go. Sometimes we talk to each other.Sometimes we don't.
One day when I was standing in line, I visited with the nicestlady. She told me that she was waiting to visit with her adult son.She lives so far away that it took her 3 ½ hours by train to journey tothe prison. She will wait in line just as long as I will, waiting for a30 minute visit with her son. Afterwards, she will have to make thatsame 3 ½ hour trip to get home. She only comes once a month.
As we stand waiting in line, we all hope that this will not be oneof those days when some inmate misbehaves and the whole prison goes intolock down. When that happens, they close the doors and send you home.No visit. No refund of your parking fees. If you have come a long wayon a train, you just get back on that train and head for home.
If you are waiting in line for an afternoon visit, you are hopingthat the inmate you are about to visit did not have a visitor thismorning. At this prison, an inmate cannot have more than one visit in aday. Three people can visit the inmate, but all three people have to bethere at once. If you are a visitor who is being sent home because"your" inmate already had a visit that day, you will already have beenstanding in line 2-3 hours before finding out. You also will not berefunded for your parking fees. And, the inmate will never know thatyou were there to see him.
This morning, I have been in line since 8:00 A.M. It is now 10:00A.M., and the Duty Officer has just stepped up to the front of the lineto issue a pass which allow me to go into the lobby and get into anotherline. All of the signs posted at the prison tell you that visitinghours begin at 10:00 A.M., but that just is not true. They only beginissuing passes at 10:00 A.M.
The Duty Officer has finally worked his way down the line until itis my turn. I tell him the inmate's name, the booking number and thecell block number. He looks at my Driver's License, enters my name andlicense number into his log book, and gives me the pass.
Now I go into the lobby and get into another line. The inmate I amvisiting is in protective custody, so I must stand on the blue line andwait. People visiting general population prisoners must stand on thered line and wait. Anyone visiting an inmate who is a gang member isstill standing in that outside line. So far, I never have figured outwhen they get to come inside to visit their loved one.
As I work my way up the blue line, I am praying for my son'sfuture. I am eager to see where God will take his life next. I amfinally convinced that my son is right where God needs him to be at thispoint in his life.
I am at the front of the line now, and it is my turn to go to thecounter and show them my pass. The Officer at the counter will look myson up in his computer to see if he can have a visitor this morning. Heapproves my visit, and tells me to take a seat in the lobby. It is now10:30 A.M.
The lobby is always very crowded. There are noises in the lobbywhich have become familiar to me. Someone just purchased a Coke at thesoda machine. Someone else decides to buy their son a bag of chips. Ababy is crying; it has been such a long wait for that child and nap timemust be near. There are faces in this crowd that are very familiar tome by now. We have seen each other often, and sometimes shared a shortvisit while we waited. There are many children in the lobby. They havecome for a treasured visit with their Daddy or their Brother or theirUncle or their Grandpa. They are eager to tell what their week has beenlike, or to brag about a good grade on their school test.
Across the room is a severely disabled man in an electric wheelchair. He comes every week to visit a special friend. He does notspeak very clearly. Most people do not even try to understand him.Several weeks ago, he and I were seated next to each other in the lobbywaiting area and we had a wonderful visit. Now when I see him, I alwayssay hello and give him a big hug. He remembers me, and always seems toenjoy the hug.
In the lobby waiting area, there is a Prison Ministry FamilyOutreach area. This area is staffed by dedicated volunteers from thecommunity. There is one particular woman who works at this counter -she has "love" beaming from her face at all times. I do not know hername, but I will ask the next time I am here. I am sure she could finda shoe sale at the Mall or some nice friends to play Bridge with thismorning, but instead she is here helping others. At the Family Outreachcounter, you can ask for any kind of help you want. They offerassistance looking up names and numbers on the Inmate Roster, they willoffer a kind word or a warm hug, they pass out free Bibles anddevotional books.
Right along side the Family Outreach counter is a speciallydecorated area for young children. There are brightly colored tablesand chairs, a video recorder with a special show playing at all times,toys, word games and coloring materials. After they finish coloringtheir pictures, that lovely lady at the counter puts the colored pagesup on the wall for all to appreciate. This morning, there is a youngmale volunteer helping the children with their word games and coloring.He looks to be about 25 years old. Possibly his friends are out doing"guy things" this morning - it is a beautiful sunny day. Instead, thisyoung man is here helping the children at a very difficult time in theirlife. He sits down on the floor so that the children can look into hiseyes at their own level. He passes out red, green, yellow and bluecrayons. The children are delighted. My eyes are full of tears. Ibegin to look away.
These are good families here in this waiting room. They lovesomeone in their life enough to be here. You can tell that they comefrom many different walks of life. Some dress and act as if they mightcome from money. Others, you can tell, are the poorest of the poor.But for this morning, we have come together in this room to share anexperience in life.
They have just called my son's name over the loud speaker. It istime for our visit. It is now 11:00 A.M. I hurry to the visitingarea. I don't want to waste one minute of my half hour. At the counterI grab the final pass which will allow me to go into the actual visitingarea, and proceed through the crowd.
I work my way down the crowded visiting row until I see my son'sbright smile. I perch on the little seat, and grab the telephone.There is a very thick window separating our visit. The telephones havenot been turned on yet. We cannot hear each other through the thickglass, so we just wait and look into each other's eyes. Click - thetelephones are on. We begin our visit. We talk about all kinds ofthings. Sometimes our visits are very upbeat, and sometimes we get intoareas which bring tears. When it is necessary for the tears to come,neither one of us attempt to do anything about it. We just let them flow!
Today my son also wanted someone to visit with a fellow inmate whohas no family. This is the second time that he has made this request.I thought ahead of time that I could not possibly sit down and talk tosomeone I never met before - particularly an inmate - but I found it aneasy thing to do. These men are starved for someone to talk to -someone to care about them - if even for only a few minutes. As I saidgood-bye to this other inmate today, I asked him if it was alright withhim if our family included him in our prayers. His eyes filled withtears, and he said yes.
As I got back into my visit with my son, he was asking me if I couldorder him some more devotional books from Amazon.com - you see, the lastones I ordered for him are in great demand by the other inmates. I willwatch for a sale and send more.
In past visits, we have hashed over all the reasons why he is inprison. We have talked and talked about the mistakes and the poorchoices. Today we are talking about the future. He knows now that hewill be in prison for several years. He does not yet know where he willspend the bulk of this time.
My son stays focused on the future. Currently he is teaching acomputer class for five hours a day. Some of the inmates in his classhave never known a skill such as this. At the end of the course, theywill have a Certificate of Completion and a lot of pride in themselvesfor a job well done.
Today my son is talking about the letters and photos he receivesfrom friends and family, and how important mail call is to the inmates.Some of the inmates never hear from anyone, so my son "shares" hisletters and photos with others.
Click - the telephone goes off. We are in the middle of ourconversation, when the telephone shuts off. Thirty minutes is up. Thevisit is over. We smile and blow kisses to each other through theglass. We mouth "I Love You" to each other. The guard comes by. Myson is led away.
I work my way back out into the crowded lobby waiting area. Thelovely lady from the Family Outreach Counter is helping the disabled manin the electric wheel chair. She is giving him big hugs, and writingsomething down for him. He is smiling. I head out the door and towardsmy car for the drive home. Outside there are still people waiting -waiting - waiting to visit someone they love.
Before I leave the prison parking lot, I must first walk across thestreet and stand in yet another line, in order to put a little moneyinto a prison account for my son. Prisoners must pay for their own toothbrush, tooth paste, bath soap, deodorant, shampoo, paper, pencil,stamps, etc. We cannot provide supplies for him. They must bepurchased at the prison, and are sold in the smallest of sizes, at thehighest of prices. So far, we have not been asked to pay for the toiletpaper.
I am a Prison Mother. I did not choose this road - but, I amwalking it just the same. This experience has forever changed who I am,what I think and how I feel. I knew that my son would walk away fromthis experience a better person. I did not realize that I would too.