Level Ground

I've lost track of the day/month/year I became involved in jail ministry and as close as I can tell it's somewhere in the 15- 17 year range.  There have been many Sundays like today, that I wake feeling inadequate, unprepared, and ill-equipped to make the hours drive to the facility where I serve and meet with women who may or may not want to see or hear the Word I come bearing.

I'm ok with that.  I do and don't go for them.  I do go to share the message of Christ -  of hope, healing, and restoration through the Gospel message, and I don't go expecting anything from them.  I care, but I'm not emotional about it.  It's about being faithful, not about acceptance or rejection.

I've made the drive some days for naught -  turned away because of an outbreak of head lice or women with no appetite for spiritual things.  Some days I quality time with one or two hungry souls.  Other days I leave spent and drained after pouring the Word into multiple cells with multiple hungry hearts and a zillion questions.

I love it.  I never know what to expect except that God is in control. Over the years I've been privileged to include almost my entire immediate family, my mom and even inlaws in aspects of the ministry.  Administrations have come and gone, buildings have gone up, dogs, protocols and rules have been added, but at the end of the day, it's still about sitting across from each other and opening the Scriptures.

These women, these amazing, beautiful, women, for the most part are no different than I.  Yes, they've been involved with things that got them in trouble.  Most are sins of the flesh that got the best of them.  Some are nothing more than stupid irresponsibility.  Only a very few are downright evil.   Many know and have a genuine love for God.  Many more have begun their spiritual journey in that direction.

Today was special.  It was one of those rare days we got down and dirty with the raw truth of how ugly sin is and were lifted up with the glorious truth of our Savior's power to overcome sin, hell, death and the grave.  We enjoyed fellowship, laughed, anguished, counseled and cried together.  When I left we embraced in prayer looking forward to doing it again in heaven.

I've heard people say, "There, but for the grace of God, go I" in regard to those who have stumbled or are less fortunate.  I've come to dislike that statement.  God's grace doesn't make me better than anyone else.  I may have better circumstances, but I'm not loved any more than they are.  The sacrifice of Calvary is there to cover their failures every bit as much as my own.

That being said,  jail is a special place for me and even on mornings like today life wouldn't be the same without "doing my time".  There is no pretending, no posturing, and no agendas.  Just women trying to help each other get through a tough time and meeting together on the level ground at the foot of the Cross where we're all sinners in need.

How many fingers am I holding up?

I've been at this jail ministry thing for a good 15+ years now.  It does not get old, it does not become boring.  Every visit is brand new and every Sunday, no matter how many crazy things you've seen or experienced, is different.  Different people, different needs, even I am different than when I first started.

Today we examined some topics from the book of Proverbs. LOVE Proverbs.  So much WISDOM.  Today was different though . .  I realized that most of these women, while they understood that wisdom was good and something they needed, had no clue what wisdom really was.  Thankfully I have a wise pastor, and have read other wise pastors who's definitions on "Bible words" I've collected over the years for this very reason.

There were other words we dealt with too . . . "understanding" being one of them.  The best way I could explain it was "insight", seeing beyond the obvious.  So I held up four fingers and asked them how many I was holding up.

The scene where Harold Gould did the same to Robin Williams in Patch Adams was profound for me.  "Eight fingers" turned out to be a wonderful way of approaching life and even a teaching tool as I prepared my children for adulthood.  And it was the best way I could approach developing insight to the women I spent this morning with.  The fingers can be anything -  walls people put up around them, social/racial/gender identity, solitude from hiding the pain . . .

So without further adieu, I hope this means as much to you as it does to me:

First Lessons

Since I'm chugged up with a nasty summer cold and have chosen not to share it with the whole church I'm home alone this morning.

And since Sunday morning belongs to God regardless I found a reference to my very first Prison Ministry lesson in a favorite book I was thumbing through. It took me back - quite a few years in fact.

The lesson was on Michal, the daughter of Saul and the first wife of David. The story of her life begins as a young princess in love and ends as an embittered woman left to her own misery. The passages that intrigued me to study her are found in II Samuel 6:

vs. 16 And as the ark of the Lord came into the city of David, Michal Saul's daughter looked through a window, and saw king David leaping and dancing before the Lord; and she despised him in her heart.

vs. 20 Then David returned to bless his household. And Michal the daughter of Saul came out to meet David, and said, How glorious was the king of Israel to day, who uncovered himself to day in the eyes of the handmaids of his servants, as one of the vain fellows shamelessly uncovereth himself!

The starry eyed bride who helped her husband escape death was now attacking him with everything she had. What happened?

The bottom line of the lesson is in Who/what each chose to worship. David had lost himself in worship to God. Michal worshiped, well, other things. It's that simple.

In the twelve or thirteen years that have passed since first delving into Michal's life, I've read many books and heard many lessons and sermons that continue to shed light on this thing about worship. Perhaps the best is from my pastor:

“Worship is focusing my minds attention and my heart's affection on who God is and everything He has done for me.” David Lewis

Everyone worships something. Some recognize it, some don't. Some admit it, some don't. Most go through life blindly chasing what they think will bring happiness. The list of idols is long: new (house, car, job etc), romance, finances, authority, recognition, etc. There's no denying these things bring pleasure, but good things are ultimately unsatisfying when they are THE ultimate thing. In Michal's case it was self image. She was trapped in that preteen girlish nightmare of what people thought.

I love Mark Batterson's take on this incident:

“I think David gives us a picture of pure worship. Worship is disrobing. It is taking of those things outside our relationship with Christ that we find our identity and security in. It is a reminder that our royal robes are like 'filthy rags.' It's not about what we can do for God. It's about what God has done for us. And that understanding produces the greatest freedom in the world: having nothing to prove.”

I hope you will worship with me today.  Clothed of course.

Leviticus Rocks

In this morning’s reading Leviticus 5:1 shook me to my core. It’s not that I’ve not read it before, it was more like this time it read me.

And if a soul sin , and hear the voice of swearing, and is a witness, whether he hath seen or known of it; if he do not utter it, then he shall bear his iniquity.

We had just talked about swearing and using God’s name in vain at the Jail on Sunday. We even read through the Ten Commandments to get it straight. And here it was . . . if you hear swearing, you are guilty.

One of my sons once told me “Leviticus rocks” while going through that class at Word of Life. To me it had mostly been dry, priestly procedures so I had to ask about this new revelation. The bottom line – no matter how hard we try to be clean and guiltless before God, it’s impossible. For the priests, even unknowingly brushing your foot against a dead bug made them unfit to serve – and how would they know?? The certainty of uncertainty forces us to depend on the mercy of God.

So learning that even hearing swear words was somewhat of a slap in the face. I felt like Isaiah: Then said I, Woe is me! for I am undone; because I am a man of unclean lips, and I dwell in the midst of a people of unclean lips: for mine eyes have seen the King, the LORD of hosts. Isaiah 6:5

We hear them everywhere – on the street, on the job, on the phone, tv, movies, music, the list goes on and on. To some degree there’s no avoiding it. I had to think back over the times I heard my Lord’s name used wrongfully and how it affected me. And I had to repent of the iniquity I bore in even hearing my God and my Savior maligned in that manner.

And I had to consider why swearing, i.e., using any part of the Trinity’s name lightly is wrong.

1. It usurps God’s authority. Of course we know that anybody using God’s name wrongfully in no way displaces the authority of heaven . . . except in that person’s heart at that moment.

2. It makes false presumptions about God’s character.

I’m sure there are other reasons, but those are the two big ones for me.

Consider Shelomiths’s son. She was a Hebrew woman married to an Egyptian man who left Egypt with Moses. We’re not told how old their son was, but at some point after the Ten Commandments he swore using God’s name. The conclusion of that matter shook the Hebrews to the core much like Pearl Harbor or 9/11 shook the national mindset of our country. The young man was executed by stoning, you might say by Levitical rocks, literally. The Jews became so protective of God’s name that it’s pronunciation was lost to the general population and only passed down from one high priest to the next as he lay dying. That’s pretty serious. To this day orthodox Jews who fear God will not write out the word “God” as I’m doing here.

The big question I face is “Where to now?” How am I to respond? What will I do if someone misuses my Lord’s name in my presence?

The easy answer is to avoid people and situations where that could happen. There’s merit to that. There are many places and situations to be avoided. Avoiding people though? No – people need Christ, and how can our feet be beautiful (Romans 10:15) if we run from them instead of to them? There’s one idea, one glimmer of possibility that has come through this, and that’s to use the situation should it arise. As a follower of Christ I should be offended to hear my Lord’s name taken in vain, but rather than express personal insult, confront the offender in genuine love and humility for their own good. People don’t care how much you know but they do know how much you care. So love the sinner – open a dialog to present the gospel, to present Christ to them. It may be the very reason that God, in His sovereignty and providence had you in a Leviticus 5:1 opportunity to begin with.

Monday Musings

I've been in a funk lately. I'm fairly sure it's because of the steady stream of travel, shows, visitors, big projects etc, especially the last few days. I like funky music occasionally, but I don't like being in a funk. It's like you just go through the motions of life with no emotion, no passion, nothing. I know that the walk of faith is not dependent on feelings, but feelings certainly make the passage more enjoyable.

Today I talked to Betty P for the first time. Betty is one of my correspondence students for the prison ministry. I don't know her story, but I know she's been my most faithful student since 2005. Wherever she moves she stays in touch and just keeps on studying. If lessons get lost or returned she'll call the church and give a good address. This time she gave a phone number as well.

If I ever run out of study material Betty will be the one to complete all the lessons. Even though it was our first personal contact, there was a sweet kinship of spirit that only the Lord can give - I've prayed over many a lesson of hers and now I feel like I have a new friend. Hearing her voice and getting to know her a bit more was precious. I've known her faithful spirit for years now. She's my only student to continue Bible study long after leaving a locked facility.

I don't think about it often but I full well expect to meet and rejoice with all my believing students in heaven someday. Today, God banished a funk by giving me a little heaven here. He couldn't have given me a better encouragement to remain faithful and finish strong.

The Whore in My Heart

Yesterday was my week for Prison Ministry. As usual, my dear husband got a few jollies at the expense of unknowing acquaintances with his usual, “she’s in jail’, or “she’s getting out of jail” remarks. God love him.

I’ve taught on women in the Bible for years. It’s a good fit for what I do as there are so very many “bad” (thank you Liz Curtis Higgs) women in the Bible. The message behind the story is always the same: Jesus loves broken women, Jesus loves YOU, and died to get you back.

So yesterday’s spotlight was on the wife of Hosea, Gomer. The story is never easy for me as I can’t relate to a woman who would leave her husband and children for any reason. And it’s tough because of the way it’s written. The verses in the book jump back and forth from Gomer and Hosea to God and Israel, then back again. Another reason it’s hard is because a precious family member is going through the fire in his marriage because his wife thinks the grass is greener on the other side of the fence, very similar to Gomer.

And it’s tough because the wild life and lovers and desire for independence that called to Gomer call to me.

Don’t get the wrong idea - I don’t know any bad men seeking unholy fulfillment. But just like Israel left her God to go chasing (whoring) after the pleasures and false gods of the world, I find my own heart pulled every day away from God in more directions than I care to confess.

“Prone to wander, Lord I feel it, Prone to leave the God I love!”

I’m sure Gomer had no way of knowing that her decisions would ultimately lead to an auction block, her beauty gone, hands tied and barely looking at the ground as people bid on her. The humiliation had to be excruciating. I wonder how she felt when she heard a familiar voice in the crowd outbidding everyone else . . . and I wonder what went through her mind as she heard fifteen silver pieces deposited with the auctioneer, and watched a years worth of food traded as her husband bought her back. Was he going to beat her? Would he invoke the ancient law and have her executed?

No. She was restored, and cherished.

“Such love constrains me.” Gomer reminds me again that nothing, absolutely nothing, will fulfill my heart and my life except relationship with my God. The price he paid to get me off the auction block was heaven's ultimate sacrifice. How can I not love him?

The Grinch That Tried to Steal Christmas

Last night for the third year in a row I went to the Ozark City School Bands Christmas Concert to watch our friend Justin play. It consists of three bands starting with the beginners playing Christmas Music. It's always a treat and I look forward to it every year.

The last piece played by the high school band was a medley from the original Grinch that Stole Christmas, the one with the Dr. Seuss comic drawings. . I had to chuckle at the coincidence while listening to "You're as cuddly as a cactus, You're as charming as an eel, Mr. Grinnnnncccch . . . You're a bad banana With a greasy black peel!"

It's the same theme I plan to teach at the jail this month.

Only this version isn't a cute cartoonish story.

Enter, the Terminator movies. Yeah, yeah, I know. Robots from the future didn't travel back in time to try to kill Jesus. Truth be told, the real version is actually freakier, yet all Christendom lives with it like it's nothing.

Think about it - two eternal beings bent on destroying each other vying for power in a temporal world. One is bent on saving the temporal world, the other on destroying it.

And being eternal, the bad one uses time, and time again to prevent the good one from his ultimate mission to save the temporal world. How? He tries to keep him from being born. In order to save the temporal world the good eternal being has to become temporal.

So here you have this huge plot to keep him from coming at all. Key persons are targeted for destruction. Didn't work. Mass genocide is scheduled to destroy all potential ancestors. A single key player prevented it from happening. And in the end he does come.

Enter - The Grinch, i.e. Herod: A despot so full of himself that he orders the slaughter of babies to prevent anyone from threatening his power. This was Satan's last ditch attempt to destroy Jesus before having to deal with him face to face. Had he succeeded, there wouldn't be a Christmas to celebrate, let alone any other good thing in life.

Despite all obstacles Jesus did fulfill his mission. After all, He IS God. He made a way for those in the temporal world (like me!) to be saved. (Yeah!) His mission was his own death, burial and resurrection.

And that is what Christmas is all about.

Following Up

Prison was good today. This is the second month that one of the guards has brought me iced tea during lunch. I see the women get the same lunch every Sunday, and it's nothing this health nut would choose, but the tea . . . is GOOD. And appreciated.

The muslum lady was still in the cell where they brought her last month after the fight. She stayed on her bunk for Bible study, but she did participate, reading along in a piece of a Bible she had inherited from another inmate and answering questions. It was a nice change.

There's not much that surprises me inside anymore, so when we finished and the guards let everyone out for a smoke break she met me at the door of her cell and gave me a hug. It was very obvious she'd softened up quite a bit since last time we met. Knowing she was Turkish I asked how many languages she spoke. The answer came tumbling out - it was like recognizing she had something different, something special opened a door of communication. She spoke five languages including her native tongue and English. Turns out she was a linguistics major at a prestigious university.

"How . . . . ?" I hardly ever ask, but this was one time I had to. The story she told me was very sad, and if it is true the way she told me she shouldn't be there. There's also the part where she's considered an outcast by her faith and her family. It hurt. I could see it in her eyes. I couldn't help but wonder if the difference between her faith that basically wanted to see her dead and all the stories about Jesus caring for broken women were getting through.

I don't know, but the second hug I got from her more than made up for the February incident. We cried together and had prayer. I continue to pray for her and ask that any other Christians who find their way here do as well.

And oh yes . . she asked for a whole Bible!

The Rest of the Story

Norman was right. Today Irene went to the jail and the girls in #47 told her the same thing - they felt that the Muslim girl was mocking me and weren't going to put up with it.

I find myself touched very deeply. This kind of love from such an unexpected source is very humbling. I find the roles reversed - I've lived Matthew 25:40 for many years now; And the King shall answer and say unto them, Verily I say unto you, Inasmuch as ye have done it unto one of the least of these my brethren, ye have done it unto me. Now, a week after the fact I am faced with the realization that they acted in love to stand up for Jesus by standing up for me.

I feel very small, and very grateful for the privilege of ministering to these women.

I spent the best part of today at the jail. I should have known it wouldn't be a routine visit from the outset as things were a little crazy from the start. The last few months I've pretty much entered and exited the building unaccompanied excluding the person who monitors the cameras and unlocks the doors electronically as I pass through. But today was different. A female deputy entered with me and a guard gave instructions to the security monitor who didn't get it and left me stranded in a vacant hall with nothing but locked doors surrounding me. After it became apparent that "whoever" didn't have a clue I was there I hit the intercom button and he/she got me through the next two doors into cell block 45.

Forty five is a nice group of ladies, sweet, low key and amiable. All of the female trustees have come from 45. The usual crowd got up for a Bible lesson and the usual crowd slept through it. I can always teach more and teach deeper truth with this group and they're always a blessing. When we finished I notified the monitor via the intercom that church was concluded in 45 and that I please be allowed to enter 47 next. We heard the door unlock across the hall, but after a few minutes it became apparent the monitor didn't think to let me out of 45. The resident trustee informed him/her of the mistake and I exited and was across the hall momentarily.

Forty seven is the "trustee" cell, though no trustees reside there. It is a much larger cell with four sets of bunks, a larger table and much more space. The usual group of girls was there too - women I've come to know and love over a number of months. They always ask about Becky. They really took to her when she visited with me at Christmas. There were a couple of new faces, most notably a dark haired girl on a cot to the side. She was polite, but wasted no time telling me she was Muslim and asked for a Koran. Bible study was disrupted before we even began with lunch trays - it was funny seeing everyone scurry to put on their blues, a new rule that you have to be fully dressed to receive food. (I like this rule - it prevents the male inmates from seeing them skimpy when the food is served!) In the process the new girl and I got to speak - she complained about being served pork hot dogs and quoted something from the Koran. In typical lion chaser fashion I wasted no time telling her Jesus's take on the topic, that it's not what you put in the man that defiles him, but what comes out from the heart. The lesson was good from there, but she and I did go back and forth a couple of times on that vein. If she was confrontational I never picked up on it and just discussed what the scriptures said. At the end of the lesson I got hugs from everyone except her - she just wanted to shake hands and I told her that I was really happy to get to meet her and that was it. She did ask about a Koran and a prayer mat, things that I didn't have access to and wouldn't provide anyway and I caught some of the other girls giving verbal put downs, "just cool it", "let it alone," behind my back as we hugged and said goodbye. And I left. The monitor got the doors right this time.

Forty six was next. All the women there were engrossed in an ethnic soap opera and only one wanted church. We were in the process of getting permission to study in the hall when things shifted and they turned the tv off and gathered around the door - a fight had started across the hall in 47 and these gals were enjoying the show. 'Dear Lord, NO!" was all I could get out of my heart." He heard me and I immediately called for prayer amid all the racket and ruckus where the guards were now scurrying to break things up. We prayed for peace and that God would contain the bad spirit that stirred up the trouble. Then ALL the girls settled down and were now eager to hear the Bible lesson. We'd barely got started when the cell door opened, a guard and a deputy escorted the muslim girl in, apologizing the whole time. She came in quietly, went to the back where she spread her mattress and remained very quiet through the rest of the lesson.

So that was how my day went. It was quite bizarre compared to normal days. Later when I recounted the events to my family Norman spoke at last and said, "You know what happened over there don't you?" No, not really . . . He continued "They weren't going to put up with her ragging on their preacher lady! They were putting the whoop on her to stand up for you!"

Is that what happened? I don't know. I hope not, but I do know this, I love those girls and they know it. And I know they love me too. People often ask me if I feel uneasy or threatened in jail and I've honestly had to conclude that I feel very safe in there. I don't know how it is during the week, but I know when I go that love is in the house. Were they standing up for me? I don't know. But Irene is going next week, and she's under orders to ASK! I'll post more when I know more.

Doing My Time

Today is Sunday and I'll be going to the jail to "minister" to the women there. I use quotations because as a Baptist (no women preachers) hearing myself called that by the personnel at the jail took a bit of getting used to. So unofficially I am a minister. Officially I'm just a woman fulfilling my calling to (admit it) minister to the female inmates.

My lessons have been about women in the Bible for three or four years now. I taught on Eve one January and kept on going. It's been very revealing for myself. I think the most profound lessons have come from the lesser known Bible characters. None of the inmates have been in on more than a few consecutive lessons, but with the repeat offenders coming and going, it's pretty well expected that Mrs. Roslyn will teach about a woman in the Bible.

Today's lesson is about probably the ultimate villain - vixen in scripture - Jezebel. Yuck, yuck and more yuck, yet we all carry the potential to be like her. It will be an interesting morning for sure!

Happy one year Anniversary

I just bumped into the fact that I've been keeping a Blogger for a scoch over a year now. (Spell check is telling me "scoch" isn't a word but it has to be - we use it all the time!) Anyway for the sake of consistency and conciseness I'm reposting some of my early ramblings here so I can eliminate an old blog under an unwanted url. The ramblings are ok, I just had to regroup and start fresh because of some problems.

So here it is: Post # uno from August 21, 2006. I'll get the others listed over the next few weeks.

Monday, August 21, 2006

I've been pondering the meaning of "bemeusement" for a while now. It's one of those double edge words. The old English prefix "be" has a couple of meanings:

1. choseness such as "by" or "near". Eg. 'be-fore'.
2. an intensive thoroughness. Eg. "be-wail'.

Muse of course means to think.

And the suffix, "ment" changes the verb and/or noun (however you wish to use the word) and shows the result or product of an action'. Eg. 'refreshment'; 'atonement'.

So the question is, am I close to having a thought or am I intensive and thorough in thought? I like to think the latter applies but in all honestly must admit it's not always the case. One of the skeletons in my emotional front hall closet is a much hated nickname - "squirrel bait." I still don't think too much of the person who came up with this good natured insult. But then, I was a ditzy kid.

Sometimes I'm a ditzy adult. Now that I'm approaching 50 I can blame it on age. My Mike will tell you it's the blond highlights. (My response is that it's meant to disguise super intelligence!) Whatever the case I sometimes find myself wishing I didn't know about some things. I'd much rather have a close (impersonal) knowledge of some things than the heartache of intensive thoroughness.

But then, I'm thankful for the hours spent at the back of Subway crying with my friend who's child was arrested. I'm glad I was there to support the friend who had to flee with her children because her husband crossed the line to molest a child. These are ugly things. I find myself bemused, as in dazed and bewildered, at the idiocy and level of sinful indulgence people can get themselves into. Squirrel bait? Maybe. I don't WANT to understand!

But then I do. I was blessed to be brought up by the Word. We didn't have Awana. Shoot, I was in my teens before I even heard of Wednesday evening service! Nobody knew we were supposed to have family devotions. We went to church on Sunday Mornings and that was pretty much it. Except - every generation (at least in one part of the family) lived the Word. And we kids were taught right and wrong based on it's principals. I can't say we were raised in the Word, but we were certainly raised by it. And without exception we all dug into it and embraced it as our own as soon as we were old enough to appreciate it's impact on our lives. Even my old heathen, citified, cousin dragged his younger brother to the Cross as he approached death. The Word did it's work. The circle won't be unbroken.

But back to understanding. Prison ministry has taught me many things, one of them being that we were privileged beyond measure. Without exception all the people we minister to in the jails had little if any real anything real or good up to landing in jail. Granted, each person is responsible for their choices and their actions, yet when darkness is all you know and all you've ever known, well, walking in light is out of the question. Some just walk in deeper darkness than others. And all need the same thing: redemption, atonement, forgiveness. But for the grace of God, I could be one of the women waiting to be transferred out of a hell hole, living for mail call, abandoned by my family and trying hard to stay out of fights or worse. That much I understand. I don't need deep pondering to get it.

So - as apparently I'm starting a new blog unbeknownst to anyone but myself, I'll try to offer real thoughts. I may even play with my word. After all, the misspelling is intentional, but that's another topic for another day.

Reflections on a busy Sunday

Irene and I switched weeks for prison ministry this month because of a schedule conflict. She's gone on the third Sunday and I've gone the fourth for quite a few years now. We pretty much have a routine - I load her up with Bibles and Bible lessons prior to her going, then get many lessons back which have to be checked and delivered along with new lessons when I go a week later. Very seldom do I get to give out Bibles as she makes first contact with all the new prisoners.

There was little of that today. Everyone had a Bible, and only a couple of students needed new lessons. It was nice to be able to concentrate on their needs, answer questions and focus on the lesson. Today's study was on the wife of Jeroboam in I Kings 14. It was a difficult lesson to study, and even more difficult to teach, especially having to do it three times consecutively. At one time long ago we had "church" in the library with only the women who wanted to participate. Those who didn't remained in their cells. We never went past a certain door that went into the female section. Then one Sunday the rules had changed. We were taken through "that" door to the individual cells and things have been very different ever since. It's been that way three or four years now.

It was a good change. We have access to EVERY woman in the jail. Even if they chose to ignore us or sleep during church time, we are at least able to leave a tract or volunteer to pray with or for them. The down side was that we had limited time with each group of ladies. God graciously fixed that around a year ago when they changed visitation days for the women. These days I'll wait or teach through lunch, but can stay as late as I'm needed. The biggest challenge remains following the spirit's lead to give a fresh lesson on the same material with three very different groups of women. They each have different questions, they each have different needs.

Today had several highlights:
1. HA, my best student ever is finally gone. She was one of the only female trustees ever at our jail and is being reunited with her daughter while in rehab. This is an answer to many months of prayer.
2. TB is gone on to rehab too. She was another good student and a trustee.
3. SB, an in and out inmate for quite a few years delivered another classic one liner during a lesson. Concerning Jeroboam's wife, "She done got busted!"
4. KC, a girl I led to Christ some years back and CCJ's only female sex offender, is back. This is not good news. Don't ask me how it happened but the year I knew her before she developed a relationship with a man "outside", supposedly a Christian. Somewhere in the years between she married him and had two children. Now he's dying of cancer, her babies are in foster care and she's behind bars again. She looks awful. We wept as we prayed for him.

Many things will change between now and the end of September when I go back. At least eleven women have court this week and several more are waiting for court dates. Some will make bail, some will go on probation, some will go on to Tutweiler. I make it a point to never ask why or where as it's irrelevant to my purpose for being there. It's still good to see it go well as in HA's case. Seeing lives healed is what it's all about.

The Least of these my Brethren

I received a few stray prison lessons in the mail today. Whenever the girls get mixed up and send lessons to the publishers in Pensacola Brother Jeff graciously sends them to my home. Ordinarily they go to the church, but either way the lessons make it to us.

Carol M, a student from two years ago was back in cell #46 last month after a year and a half absence. (Absence is GOOD - everyone should want to be absent from jail all their life!) She barely let me see her, preferring to listen from her mattress inside the cell during the Bible lesson, but she did stick her head out long enough to say hi, and was surprised when I called her by name. She'd always been a tad shy and reserved. Last week when I went on my scheduled day for July she'd been moved to the trustee cell. And she was no longer just another woman on a mattress, she had taken the role as the spiritual leader of that cell. I was blown away. A big group of ladies hungry to hear from God joined us and Carol no longer hid away, ashamed at being found in jail again, she sat across from me and helped lead discussion.

I was amazed at the transformation in this woman. Here she was, probably in for a drug violation, but stepping up in the worst possible situation to be what God had ordained her to be all along, a natural leader. She'd been leading the cell in Bible study, with nothing but their Bibles, for days. Every woman there was hungry for more of the Word and I wound up leaving many complete lesson sets for them and a couple of Bibles for the newer women.

I'm reminded that God uses the foolish and base things of the world to confound the wise. There's certainly no news camera's going to pick up on this story, I'm just glad I got to see it. My prayer for Carol is that she'll become on the outside what God has shown her to be on the inside, both literally and figuratively.

Today will be a Random Monday, and since I've a truckload of work it will be much shorter.

Life goes so much smoother with extended quiet time.

I found out that a couple of our Prison Ministry students have been made trustees. They are actually assisting the secretary to the Director in the office with paperwork. I couldn't be more proud. Both these ladies have been outstanding students and it's wonderful to see the positive changes in their lives. I'm fully aware that earning the privilege of being a prison trustee isn't exactly what life goals are made of, but hey, it's where Joseph started.

I think the insane Cardinal that's been flying into our guest room window every day for the last five months is getting old and tired. He's not hitting the window nearly as hard or as many times. I suspect he's knocked a few brain cells loose somewhere along the line.

My great niece seems to be finally warming up. (Sigh) It's challenging to love someone so much and want to hold them close and not be able to. The point again - Don't do this to God!

It rained last night. It wasn't much, but everything was washed and the air smelled clean this morning. Maybe it was me but things looked greener too.

Mimosa is in bloom and the bees are all over it. It will probably be our last big nectar producer for this year, at least till fall.

I'm looking forward to Ladies Bible study again. The fellowship of studying with my peeps for the book of Ruth was sweet. I know from the outside it's just another church, but from the inside it's a family of people who love God and love each other. While only God can meet the deepest needs of the heart, it's sweet to have others to be there for us. RP and I have cried many a tear together in the back of Subway. Mrs. C's history here is longer than mine and she's the only regular left who knew me when I was 25. Nancy helped me make my daughter's wedding dress. Connie was a deep sister from the heart from the first month she visited. Yes, sometimes we bump elbows and get on each other's nerves, but that's what happens in families. But we make it right and keep going. The very best part is sharing that love and seeing the family grow. It's a God thing. I've no doubt heaven will be much better, but it is nice to enjoy a bit of it here.