New Life
Today an old friend who has been in prison for a couple years came for a visit with his daughters, whom we cared for on and off while he was away.
We talked for the first time about what it was like on the inside. I like to believe I'm not naïve, that I don't turn away from what is most horrifying in the world--that one of my gifts is an ability to be with someone even in the midst of deep pain, to listen even when what I am hearing is hard to hear. But it was hard for me to stay present while he talked about being forced to choose between carrying a knife into a human cockfight or betraying the people who had his back. It was hard to learn that he had one afternoon called our pastor to tell her he had to go into a fight, no choice--and that whatever happened, he wanted his daughters to know he loved them. Hard to hear about his friend, who was given five more years (instead of five months) for roughing up a child molester--which he was told he had to do if he didn't want to get roughed up himself. "Maybe he went too far," my friend said, matter of fact.
He described how surreal his life was now. "A month ago I was trying to figure out how to keep from getting killed, and now I'm hanging out at the school for a family fun night, sitting beside a doctor and his kids, watching cartoons with my girls."
Somehow, he is making it work, day by day--finding a place to live, doing odd jobs for people until he can find a job, meeting with the school counselor who said, "So, you're back now. How long are you planning to stick around?"
"I could feel her judgment," he said, "but I figure, kill them with kindness. I told her I was grateful so many people had stepped up and taken care of my girls when I was away, and how I had the same goal as she did for them."
All he and his girls have wanted for so long is to be together. Today I told him how blessed we felt to have been a witness to that love, that desire for healing and wholeness and family.
S and the girls decorated the windows with window markers as we talked, writing each of our names, drawing cat faces and stars and hearts. One of his daughters wrote "Family first!" and beneath this, "Family = love and forever."
We talked for the first time about what it was like on the inside. I like to believe I'm not naïve, that I don't turn away from what is most horrifying in the world--that one of my gifts is an ability to be with someone even in the midst of deep pain, to listen even when what I am hearing is hard to hear. But it was hard for me to stay present while he talked about being forced to choose between carrying a knife into a human cockfight or betraying the people who had his back. It was hard to learn that he had one afternoon called our pastor to tell her he had to go into a fight, no choice--and that whatever happened, he wanted his daughters to know he loved them. Hard to hear about his friend, who was given five more years (instead of five months) for roughing up a child molester--which he was told he had to do if he didn't want to get roughed up himself. "Maybe he went too far," my friend said, matter of fact.
He described how surreal his life was now. "A month ago I was trying to figure out how to keep from getting killed, and now I'm hanging out at the school for a family fun night, sitting beside a doctor and his kids, watching cartoons with my girls."
Somehow, he is making it work, day by day--finding a place to live, doing odd jobs for people until he can find a job, meeting with the school counselor who said, "So, you're back now. How long are you planning to stick around?"
"I could feel her judgment," he said, "but I figure, kill them with kindness. I told her I was grateful so many people had stepped up and taken care of my girls when I was away, and how I had the same goal as she did for them."
All he and his girls have wanted for so long is to be together. Today I told him how blessed we felt to have been a witness to that love, that desire for healing and wholeness and family.
S and the girls decorated the windows with window markers as we talked, writing each of our names, drawing cat faces and stars and hearts. One of his daughters wrote "Family first!" and beneath this, "Family = love and forever."
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