16:30

Count time – the last four o’clock count.  That feels strange to write.  That tomorrow at this time I will be somewhere else, with someone else, away from here, doesn’t seem real yet.

I’m still on the bunk for there’s nowhere else to go – no other options.  The TV news is on but I can’t focus on it.  Mentally I’m trying to rush through the stages – the predictable and endless cycle of stages – that still stand in the way of my departure.  It’s repeated itself so many times that it’s all not even in the memory anymore.  It’s just a habit.  When the door slammed at 1530, the timer in my head started and, without checking the watch, I know it’s about time for count to clear.  I’ll hear the alert tone sound over the officer’s radio – will that sound ever leave me? – and then he’ll open the doors. 

The mental  alarm is screaming at me and it occurs to me that the significance of this day may be interfering with the accuracy of it.  But, according to my watch, it’s dead on.  Count is late clearing – the geniuses are at work again.  The standing joke is that count time only ends on time if the officers’ boot laces are not so tight to prevent them from having access to their toes.

Whatever the problem, I wish they’d hurry up.  There are still several stages awaiting before I can lay down and try to go to sleep, and this count thing is holding me up. 

I’m ready to get started!

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Everything New

Written by A Prodigal on August 1, 2006.

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He who was seated on the throne said, “I am making everything new!” – Revelation 21:5a

As I sit at my desk in the early morning, enjoying my quiet time while it is indeed quiet, my Bible-reading took me past this verse.  Something stopped me there.

I looked up from this promise and into the faces of some of those precious people I love – and, I am saddened to say, hurt – the most.  Their pictures are taped to the wall over my little desk.

My three wonderful boys.  I’ve missed a third of their lives and have caused deep wounds in their souls and psyches that only God can heal.  “I’m making everything new.”

My Dad.  In so many ways I have followed in his footsteps – not all of those steps should have been traced – and have shared the pain he experienced.  The pain of loss and separation and isolation.  And I have disappointed and hurt him.  “I’m making everything new.”

My dear Mother.  Ravaged by Alzheimer’s, that horrible disease, leaving only a walking shell of the amazing woman who raised me and kept our home together for so many years.  “I’m making everything new.”

My dear Mother. I claim this promise this morning.  As the sun breaks the shell of the night and announces the beginning of a new day, my Lord is making everything new!

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For more Ponderings, click here

Little Things

“The little foxes spoil the vines.”  Song Of Solomon 2:15

 

This scripture pertinently reminds us that, in the realm of the spiritual, there really are no….

 

 

Little Things

 

The worldly pleasures I once sought

Have lost their charm, and tempt me not–

                Desire for them has taken wings;

And yet I sadly must confess

Upon my knees, with real distress

                That I still fail in little things.

 

I never could deliberately

Walk counter to God’s will for me,

                Or yield to conscious sin;

But sometimes I have left undone

The little things that might have won

                A needy soul to Him.

 

The Holy Spirit doth remind,

“The little foxes spoil the vine,”

                And make it fruitless, too;

So help me, Lord, to watch and pray–

To be more faithful day by day

                In even little things for You!

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For more of the poetry of my grandmother, visit the “Uplifted Eyes” page.

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September 10, 2002

September 10, 2002

Dearest One,

I have prayed for you today and have asked the Lord for His wisdom and His words to be transmitted via this letter.  One feels so helpless in any human effort to offer a ray of hope and encouragement when a loved one is going through the “dark night of the soul”.  My prayer is that you will be able to view whatever you must face with words or Joseph ringing in your ears: “Satan meant this for evil, but God means it for my good.”

Our painful experiences can reveal God to us in new ways.  God’s love doesn’t guarantee us a shelter from difficult experiences that are necessary for our spiritual growth.  Love permits pain.  We don’t want it that way, but love and delay are compatible.  When we fail somewhere along the way to trust in God, we often get ourselves in places of difficulty and impossibility.  When a thing is impossible, then we who are so prone to move things by the force of our being can say, “Lord it has to be You.  I am utterly helpless and absolutely nothing.”  At that point of complete surrender, releasing all that we are, ever have been, and ever hope to be, we can trust His love.  We can come through difficult experiences stronger in faith and hope as we learn that God is there for us in our loss and our deepest sorrow.  What we allow Christ to do in our situation makes the difference.  When we have the right priorities, God will enable us to do what needs to be done.  Ask yourself, what am I struggling with?  Whatever it may be, give it to Jesus.  Trust in His timing and His previsions.  This may require giving up dreams and aspirations, being crucified with Christ, and learning the fellowship of His suffering, but Jesus must be Lord of all or He can’t be Lord at all.  If there is even one thing we are holding as more precious than He, anything which is outside the approval of His character and His Word, then we are still that far from His being able to bless our lives with His abundance and power over evil.  He will never over-ride our will, but our will sometimes over-rides His ability to bless us.

The 11th Son – Part II

 

I began working for the Agency, a branch of the Military Department of the State of Tennessee shortly after arriving in Nashville; January 27, 2004, to be precise.  After initially serving as a low-level functionary and technician in a position where my equipment calibration duties extended to include vacuuming offices and cleaning restrooms (perfect jobs for inmates in most people’s opinion), I was eventually moved into one of the five main directorates and assigned to the director of the division as an Administrative Assistant.

 

As the months passed, my list of duties and responsibilities increased, so much so that by March 1, 2005, I had been hired on as a full-time State employee with all the benefits that brings.  Not bad for a guy who returns to and sleeps at a prison each night.

 

I felt like I had arrived!

 

Since beginning my life in prison, I had been considering what life would look like upon my exit from behind the fence.  It’s not easy to find employment with a felony record.  And my situation was a bit worse than most since I had no real skill or experience in any field other than Law, and that door was closed forever.  I hate to admit I had been worrying about it, but how I would support myself had definitely been on my mind.

 

Now, however, after being hired in March of 2005, and satisfactorily completing my probationary period on September 1^st of the same year, I finally began to picture my life after prison as a State employee.  I finally felt I could mark that concern off the list of things to worry about.

Surrounded

Read 2 Chronicles 13

Any military strategist would have to agree – this battle could not be won.

The army of Judah, impressive in its own right, was overwhelmingly out-manned and out-maneuvered.  You would think four hundred thousand soldiers would be sufficient to win the day.  Any commander would feel confident – even self-sufficient – engaging the enemy with almost half a million men.

Well, you would until you arrived at the battlefield to find the opponent had two for every one of yours.  Eight hundred thousand men.  And not just in front of you, but behind you, sitting in ambush, as well.  What a sight that must have been.  How demoralizing.  Your vast army dwarfed.  Your sure victory snatched away.  What’s the use – let’s give up and go home.

That’s what we’re tempted to do, isn’t it?  The enemy shows up with its overwhelming resources and surrounds us.  They arrive with their promises and enticements and we suddenly feel weak and insignificant.  We believe it would be better to give a little ground than to be annihilated.

So we compromise.  We do give a little ground.  We drop back and try to regroup, not appreciating the slipperiness of that particular slope.  Not realizing that that was our opponent’s battle plan all along.

Let Me Be Still

“Be still and know that I am God.” Psalms 46:10

 

This is God’s prescription for fretfulness! No rest or peace anywhere in all the world outside of Him, so ….

 

Let Me Be Still

Let me be still, dear Lord, and rest my soul in Thee;

Nor fret, nor murmur at the trials that come.

Thou hast permitted them, and so I must believe

They are Thy precious will, and Lord, “Thy will be done. “

 

Let me be still, dear Lord, and trust though it would seem

Prayer is a futile effort with a wound so deep;

I have an Advocate in Thee before my Father’s throne–

That Thou art praying for me, makes my trust complete.

 

Let me “be still and know” that Thou art God

Who loves me with an everlasting love, and come what may

Thou art my strength, Thy grace that saves will keep,

Though every mooring of my life be swept away!

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For more of the poetry of my grandmother, visit the “Uplifted Eyes” page.

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The 11th Son – Part I

This is a familiar story.  It’s the story of Joseph; he of the many-colored coat fame.  It is a story of a young man whose life was turned on its head for the purpose and the glory of God.

 

He was the eleventh son of the father, but the first son of the mother.  The mother was the favorite wife, so the eleventh son took first place in the father’s heart.  All the blessings, all the privileges, all the father’s love and a beautiful robe were given to the son.  And neither the doting father nor the privileged son bothered to keep quiet about it.  Always, flaunting, always dreaming, always in the face of ten brothers.

 

So envy was born in ten hearts, and that envy turned to hate.  That hate birthed a conspiracy.  No doubt you know the story of ambush, beating, slave traders and bloody robes; of a father’s grief, and the brothers’ guilt.  But God had a salvation plan; a rescue mission only God could conceive.

 

Joseph didn’t deserve the treatment his brothers gave.  Maybe he could have been a bit more discreet; could have saved the treasured coat for special occasions; could have pondered his dreams in his heart rather than broadcast them to his brothers.  But even considering all of that, he didn’t deserve to be sold, chained, enslaved, marched through the desert, probably beaten, surely deprived of water and nourishment, and placed on the block for auction.  But by all accounts, even if a bit prideful, he was a good boy, a dutiful son, and a God-fearing man.  So why did this seventeen year old have his life turned upside down in the desert that day?  Hold to that question for a moment.

What Goes Around, Comes Around

“But Laban said to him, “If you will allow me to say so, I have learned by divination that the LORD has blessed me because of you;”  Genesis 30:27

What goes around, comes around.  A trite little saying that is generally thrown out upon the realization that someone has gotten the best of us.  Whether in a business deal or a realtionship, in our opinion, those who do wrong by us deserve a revisitation of that wrong.  We may very well be either powerless to affect the situation or we simply choose not to resort to retaliation.  But our sense of fair play almost requires that the “comes around” follow the “going”.

And, trite though it may seem, this idea is Scriptural.  The reaping always….always….follows the sowing.  In some form or another, we harvest – sometimes unwillingly or unwittingly – the fruit of our actions.  Examples of this are seen throughout the Bible.

David sowed adultry and reaped heartache.  Solomon planted excess and reaped near insanity and loss of a kingdom.  Joseph’s brothers sowed murder and deception and reaped half a lifetime of guilt and remorse.  Jacob sowed trickery and deception only to reap in kind.

Judging

“With what judgment ye judge, ye shall be judged; and with what measure ye mete, it shall be measured to you again.” Matthew 7:2

 

“Judge” and “Grudge” are identical twins. They are usually seen together. We seldom judge critically those we really love. May the Lord deliver us from ….

 

Judging

We dare not, must not, judge our fellowman;

Our eyes see but the surface of his deeds.

‘Tis Christ’s prerogative–for He alone

Perceives the motive, and the heart’s deep needs.

 

With endless patience, like a warning bell,

He cautions us to love both friend and foe;

If we usurp His judgment, we shall merit HIS–

For grudges held are as toward Him, you know!

 

There is no healing in an unforgiving heart;

It’s fervent zeal, though seeming from above,

Is parched and barren–yes, a fruitless thing–

That none can cure but God, for “God is LOVE!”

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For more of the poetry of my grandmother, visit the “Uplifted Eyes” page.

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Back to the Beginning

How long, O Lord?  Will you forget me forever? How long will you hide your face from me?  How long must I wrestle with my thoughts and every day have sorrow in my heart?  How long will my enemy triumph over me?  Look on me and answer, O Lord my God.  Give light to my eyes or I will sleep in death; my enemy will say, “I have overcome him,” and my foes will rejoice when I fall.  But I trust in your unfailing love; my heart rejoices in your salvation.  I will sing to the Lord for He has been good to me.  (Psalm 13)

 

So now we’re back to where we started; back to the beginning; back to March 14, 2006;   back to the day when my world turns upside down again.

 

But first, maybe another small detour is in order.

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Go on to Chapter 50…

Navigate here for the Deception Home Page.

15:30

As has been the case for the past 1948 days, at precisely 1530, the door to the cell is slammed shut and once again we’re caged up so we can be counted.  What was a humiliating and depressing event five years ago is now just overlooked as one more thing with which to deal.  Funny what you can get used to. 

And since this is my last afternoon count time, I guess it’s only natural to reflect back to that first day.  Alone in that freezing cell in the damp basement of the Shelby County jail, confused, in shock from the events of the day, the past but a memory, the present a haze and the future uncertain.

My only clothes were those I was wearing.  No sheets.  No blanket.  No pillow.  No toothbrush.  No hot water.  Cold sandwiches on stale bread and lukewarm fruit drink.  Awakened every hour for count and bed check.

It was a long night.

Now that is only a memory, the long ago beginning of what is now finally ending – but the first step in a long journey that is now winding down.  Thank God.  I’m weary.

So I sit here on my bunk with most of my worldly belongings around me in plastic bags and try to focus on a book to take me through the next few minutes.  But focusing is impossible – there’s too much to think about; too many possibilities and issues, all of which will hit me square in the face within the next few hours.

Maybe I should just pray…….

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Visit The Last Twenty-Three Page for more.

September 8, 2002

September 8, 2002

My Dear Son,

It was so good to hear your voice this morning.  You seemed so distant.  Now I feel we can be in touch.

I went to the Christian Book Store and bought several Christian novels.  I followed the rules and had the store ship them.  Then I realized that you had no Bible so I included a little one.

I hope these items will keep your mind on things of God and will provide and give hours of enjoyment.

Son, I wish you could know how much I love you.  You will someday!!

I have asked some of the prayer warriors to keep you in their prayers.  We have many in our Sunday School class.

I am putting my faith in God!!!  You are His child and He wants you to trust Him and He wants you to be with Him in the eternity.  I plan to be there!!!  You must do the same!!!

In heaven all will be wonderful – no more tears – we all have to be there!!

I love you dearly!

Mom

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Mom took great care of me during the early years of my incarceration.  When Alzheimer’s took her from me, my step-dad stepped in and carried on.  Even during the times when I was close to despair, the weekly dose of encouragement helped me through.

I was – and still am – very blessed.

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For more of the Prodigal’s Mail, click here.

Jesus Wept

Tears are not a sign of weakness, for the strongest Man who ever lived wept! He knew the utter desolation of loss by death; the bitter disappointment of rejection; “a man of sorrows, and acquainted with grief” — yes ….

Jesus Wept

(John 11:35)

 

My Jesus wept; not only at the tomb

                Where Lazarus, His friend, lay cold in death,

But I am sure that often in the gloom

                Of lonely nights of prayer my Saviour wept.

 

He wept for every grief that down the years

                Would cause our hearts to bleed at utter loss;

He wept to share each burden of our tears–

                But through them, He saw victory at the Cross!

 

My Jesus wept! My Saviour, and my Lord!

                Oh, may no callous pride destroy the spring

Of my heart’s love that fosters sweet accord–

                That humbly weeps, and pardons everything!

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For more of the poetry of my grandmother, visit the “Uplifted Eyes” page.

Also, please subscribe below for weekly updates on this site.