Lost in Dreams (17 page)

“Lord, I’m not telling You anything You don’t already know. You know every person in that prison—the staff as well as the insiders. You know their offenses. You know their hearts. You know who already has a right relationship with You and who doesn’t. You know who’s sincere in professing Christianity and who’s just pretending.

“And You know what’s going to happen tonight. You know who’ll attend the service and how each person will respond. You know our apprehensions … okay,
my
apprehensions. You know whether we’ll be safe here or whether Dad and I will join Mom in heaven tonight.

“Please fill my tank with high-octane calm. Or should I say low-octane? Remind me that I’m obeying You, just like I tried to do in Santa María. Maybe the problem is I don’t feel worthy to be part of this. Not after what I did to Mom. I feel like I belong in there … well, in a women’s prison, anyhow. I really need Your help dealing with that.

“I feel like I’m slip-sliding on those pebbles again, and I don’t know if I’m going to prance or fall. Lord, I’m trying to trust You. I want to be victorious. I’m trying to leave things in Your hands, but it’s not easy …”

I resumed my walk along Red Cedar Drive and continued praying aloud. It helped. A lot. Maybe I prayed about the same

concerns over and over, but at least I ended up with a positive attitude about tonight’s prison ministry.

Just then, a voice spoke to me from the darkness—somewhere to my right. Not more than seven or eight feet away, and I could barely steady my hands to focus my flashlight in that direction.

Or would I need to use it as a weapon?

L
ord? That’s not You, is it? I don’t see a burning bush
. “You okay. Me here.” “Graham? You scared me to death.” The way my heart was pounding, I felt like an atomic bomb had exploded inside my chest.

“Alongside. Whole walk. Keep watch.”

It took me a few seconds to interpret what he’d said. “Rob didn’t send you?”

“No.” He lowered his volume a few more notches from shy-quiet to a reverent near-whisper. “God.”

I hadn’t expected an answer like that. “Thank you, Graham.”

“Thank God.” He obviously meant it.

Although those two simple words made me feel like crying, the still-trembling part of me wanted to lash out and say,
“But did you have to scare me to death like that? You could have guarded me just as well without letting me know you’d ever been nearby. “

But God had something to say to me about my ingratitude.
“Kim—or shall I call you Kimmy to remind you who’s still in charge?—you asked Me to open your heart to Graham. Did you mean it or not? Here’s your chance. I’m not promising you a second one. “

You know how to make a girl feel bad, don’t You, Lord?
I sighed.

“Graham, God may have asked you to come, but you didn’t have to obey Him. By doing it, though, you’ve set a good example for me in my efforts to mature as a Christian.”

I paused. No matter how sincere I’d been, my words probably sounded corny. Did I dare to try again? If this was the only chance God was giving me, I needed to. “I hope we get to know one another better while I’m here. I’m friends with everyone on the team but you, and I’d like to change that.”

The only detectable response was the sound of muffled sniffling. If my words had somehow touched that strange old man, I could only pray that this evening’s contact would be the first one, not the only one.

Before I could say anything else, though, he was gone. As the van pulled up beside me, Rob lowered the window.

“Where did he go?” I said. “Did you see him? He was right here.”

“If you were talking to someone,” he said, “he must have been a ghost. I could see you from a hundred yards away, and you were all by your lonesome.”

I was too dumbfounded to explain. Maybe this was one of those things to keep in my heart and reflect on. The way Mary thought about Jesus’ childhood words of wisdom after she and Joseph found Him in the temple.

“Get in, Kimmy. Let’s go for a ride.”

Rob drove another twenty or thirty yards up Red Cedar Lane and pulled into a visitor spot in the main parking lot. We followed him into a well-lit building that looked far too attractive to be part of a prison.

Racial stereotypes weren’t the only kind.

“I learned something a few minutes ago when I called the warden—”

“You get cell phone coverage here?” Jo asked, her voice more chipper than it had been right after supper.
Ah. Maybe I was right
.

Although Rob chuckled a time or two, his response was gentle. “Afraid not, Jo. That’s why I brought the satellite phone

on this project. Works anywhere in the world.”

He must have seen the hungry—no, the starving—look on Jo’s face. I couldn’t think of a better word to describe it. “No free minutes on that thing, though, but I wouldn’t mind letting you call home a time or two if you hold it down to five or ten minutes.”

I forgot to breathe for a minute when Jo threw her arms around Rob and kissed him on the cheek. Not once, but three or four times.

Well done, Lord. You’ve already answered part of my prayer
. I winked toward the sky as I drew a solid line between Rob and Jo on my imaginary relationship chart. I wondered if this would also make the line between Jo and me solid.

“Mr. Rob,” Aleesha said. As uncharacteristically quiet as she’d been the last few minutes, I’d almost forgotten she was there. “What about in here?”

Rob looked at her as if she’d just announced she was a space alien.

“They have phones inside the prison …”

“Right!” The now-why-didn’t-I-think-of-that look on Rob’s face made me giggle. “Why don’t we check with the warden? The office may have an 800-line he’d let you use in the privacy of somebody’s office. I think he could rationalize a call home as facility-related.”

Jo’s transformation was nothing short of miraculous. She caught Rob off balance when she hugged him again, almost knocking him down.

“Kimmy,” Rob said, “I know you’ve been worried about tonight”—
Rob, the word is
petrified,
but my prayer time has helped a
lot—”but I have some news that ought to please you. Some of what I told you earlier was wrong.”

I searched his face for clues as I waited for him to continue. My heart rate had already begun accelerating, but

more with hope this time than anxiety.

“The Red Cedar facility is a medium-security prison. Now, that is. It was maximum security when it first opened.”

Come on, Rob. Spit it out. How is this supposed to make me feel better?

“Kimmy, we’ll be leading worship with relatively minor offenders.”

“Minor?” Had I heard him correctly? I could hardly believe how quickly God had answered that part of my prayer, too.

“Some of them are serving lengthy sentences, but you won’t see any murderers, rapists, or animal abusers in the crowd. No one you should feel frightened of.”

I was speechless.

“One other thing.”

I raised my eyebrows in expectation.

“Warden Jenkins pointed out that the insiders have a great respect for women of all ages. They wouldn’t be any more disrespectful of you, Jo, or Aleesha than of their own mothers.”

I started squealing with relief. Before I knew what was happening, Aleesha was shaking me and talking excitedly. “You see, girl? You were worried over nothing. You should have spent that time and energy praying.”

I smiled. I could hardly wait to tell her I had prayed. And to rave about what phenomenal answers God had already provided.

W
arden Jenkins met us at the visitors’ desk of the administration building. As we introduced ourselves, he welcomed us by name. He would undoubtedly be able to address each of us by name for the duration of our visit to Red Cedar. I envied people who could remember names easily when I struggled so hard at times to remember my own. “Do you know the insiders individually?” I asked.
God does, but you’re not God
. I don’t know why that thought ran through my head. Maybe because the warden held the fate of so many men in his hands day in and day out.

“Kimmy”—
oh, no, you’ve already caught it from
Rob!—”I know most of them by name. Although my job requires a certain amount of that, I’ve gotten to know many of the men better than I have to. Family problems. Personal needs. Things like that. Allows me to live out my Christian witness on the job. I know the troublemakers and the most troubled far better than I do anyone else, though.”

“Like in school,” I said. “One of my favorite teachers used to say she could remember every exceptional student she’d ever taught—both the best and the worst.”

“Same principle.” He shook his head as if wishing it weren’t true.

“Well, team,” Rob said, “visiting with this fine Christian brother is good, but that’s not what we’re here for. He’s already saved, even if he does belong to a different denomination than mine.”

Aleesha howled with laughter, and that set off a chain

reaction among everyone within hearing distance. If only Mom could have known Aleesha. She loved to laugh. But I put an end to that.

Once we calmed down, Warden Jenkins took the floor again. “You all have your Form 106 Visitor Questionnaires? And a photo ID?” We three girls handed him our papers. Jo and I gave him drivers’ licenses, but Aleesha handed him a passport.

I glanced at it. The picture showed the innocent-angel-look that had tickled me several times in Santa María. I couldn’t keep from giggling. Aleesha grinned at me. She knew why I was laughing.

“Hmm,” the warden said as he glanced over the paperwork and verified that we were who we claimed to be, “everyone is eighteen or older. No arrests or convictions. No points on your licenses, either. Good for you, girls.”

Aleesha leaned over to me and whispered, “And why do you think I used my passport instead of my license?” We both giggled.

“Everything appears to be in order. I need to make a copy of your IDs—just a little extra protection for you. And for me, too. I had to get special permission to let you visit here on such short notice.” I smiled at his modesty about the hoops he’d had to jump through. “Oh, I don’t suppose you just happened to bring fingerprint sheets with you?”

He winked at us, but that didn’t keep our eyes from opening wide. Even Dad and Rob’s. A few butterflies flitted around in my stomach, but that was less obnoxious than nausea.

He couldn’t have missed seeing our reactions. “We’ll take care of that little detail before I walk you over to the building you’ll hold your service in. While they’re patting you down and checking you over with a metal detector, I’ll buzz Chaplain Thomas and have him come meet you. He’s supposed to

remain with you throughout your visit.”

Don’t knock yourself out, Chaplain Thomas. We’d feel less inhibited without you
.

“Larry,” Rob said, “we told the girls a little of what you shared with us, but nothing about your, uh, specific … concerns.” I thought he was going to say
suspicions
. “Scott and I thought having them keep an eye on Chaplain Thomas might prove helpful.”

Warden Jenkins’ demeanor didn’t change. No signs of distress. “Good idea, Rob.” He handed each of us a clip-on visitor pass. “Keep these on at all times. Without them, we can’t let you out again. Guard them with your lives.” He must have seen my face tighten. “Not literally, of course, but we can’t let an insider get hold of one. He could use it to attempt to escape. Of course, we’ve never had an escape here.”

My muscles relaxed again.

“Any questions before we go in?”

I looked at my purse. So did the warden.

“Oh, and you ladies won’t be able to take your purses. Gentlemen, you might as well empty your pockets. Ladies, too, if you have pockets. These insiders can find the most ingenious uses for the least offensive-looking items. You can leave your things in my office. I promise they’ll be safe. I’ll be here until you leave.”

Aleesha scrunched her forehead. I had no idea what she was thinking.

But the warden did. “Storing your things here is one step less complicated than using the lockers regular visitors use.”

She nodded, apparently satisfied.

I took the Bible out of my purse. “What about …?”

“Oh, Bibles are fine. But when they pat you down, they’ll examine your Bible to make sure you’re not trying to smuggle contraband.”

He winked at us.

I remembered a kid in high school who’d gutted the inside of an ordinary looking book to make a hiding place for cigarettes and a lighter. He never had a chance to smoke in school—he couldn’t find a safe place to—but he always had that book with him. He made me sick the way he boasted about beating the system.

I wouldn’t be surprised to learn he’d ended up in some Georgia state prison.

After we deposited our valuables and invaluables in Warden Jenkins’ office, he led us to an inside area near the prison building entrance. On the way, he explained that visitors like us didn’t have to endure all the indignities of regular visitors, but he didn’t elaborate.

A quick change of subjects caught me off guard at first. “One of my major concerns as a Christian,” he said, “is that the separation of church and state might eventually interfere with church groups being able to do prison ministry.”

“But it’s voluntary, isn’t it?” Jo asked. “Nobody
has
to attend our services.”

“True.” He sighed. “But where do we draw the line about what groups we allow to minister to the prisoners?”

“No Satan worshippers, huh?” Dad said. I started to laugh, but then I saw that he was serious.

“Can’t you just have somebody monitor the services?” Jo said. “And make sure nobody teaches terrorism to the—?”

“Now, Jo,” Dad said in his best Daddy-the-Reprover voice, “we can’t go around accusing other religions of teaching terrorism just because we don’t agree with their beliefs.”

“Besides that,” Warden Jenkins said, “you wouldn’t believe what every inmate here teaches his cell mates and buddies about better and more effective ways to commit every imaginable kind of crime. Each one may come in with limited