Lost in Dreams (27 page)

“When I first learned that my friends and I would be doing prison ministry while working on the hostel across the road”—
You do know about that, don’t you? I can’t break the flow to explain now if you don’t—”I
was delighted. But you know what killed my joy for a while?”

I looked around. The men were hooked on my words. Even Chappy glanced at me a time or two.

“You’re going to laugh at this, but I’d assumed this would be a ladies’ prison.” The men grinned and pointed at one another. One guy stroked his beard and shook his head. “When I learned it wasn’t, I was scared to death. Terrified. I was sure I’d be a lamb among wolves. Nothing personal against the fellow who gave me the wolf whistle a few minutes ago.”

Chappy actually laughed at that.

“Yes, I was certain you were all a bunch of murderers, rapists, and animal abusers.”

Smiles all around. “Not us, good sister,” one gray-haired gentleman said.

“I’m glad I was wrong.” Smiles again. “I believe God brought me here to minister to you. If I didn’t have a living relationship with God through faith in His son, Jesus Christ, I couldn’t do this. I wouldn’t care about any of you. I’d still be living that selfish life I used to live.”

Heads nodded.

“I admit it. Until not too long ago, I would’ve been the first to say, ‘Serves them right. They’re just a bunch of criminals. Throw away the key.’ But I don’t feel that way anymore. God has reminded me that He loves each of you just as much as He loves me.”

A number of eyes glistened. Several men shouted, “Praise the Lord!”

“From what I’ve learned about God’s way of looking at things—I don’t claim to understand it—the worst sin any of you has ever committed is no worse in God’s sight than the most insignificant wrong I’ve ever done. I hope that makes sense. I just mean sin is anything that separates us from God, and it’s all equal in His sight.”

A sniffle here and there. Nodding. Uptight looks relaxing. Smiling.

“I don’t believe everyone in this room is a Christian. My friends and I will be going home on Monday, and I don’t want to leave without knowing that each of you has the same kind of relationship with God I have. I don’t want to see any of you miss out on the victorious life God wants you to live, and I don’t want to arrive in heaven and find any of you missing.”

Oh, Lord! You’ve kept those words pouring out of me without my having to think about what to say next, but where do I go from here?

God answered in an unexpected way.

“Men,” Dad said. “You’ve heard my daughter, and let me assure you she wasn’t exaggerating about what she used to be like … or about what she’s like now.” The pride in his voice tore me up. “Kim—Kimmy—wants to chat with any of you who want to talk with her. About spiritual matters … or personal ones. Anything. Just get her attention after the service when she’s not with somebody else. If there’s not time to talk to everyone who’s interested, we’ll make special arrangements for her to visit with you at another time.”

A number of men stopped by to chat with me about one thing or another, but nobody said anything about the chaplain. I couldn’t help noticing that some of the men kept glancing at him with apparent apprehension. Like they wanted to talk

about something they were afraid to bring up.

We stayed later than usual that evening. Until I’d finished talking with some of the men one-on-one. But I was no closer than before to learning anything that would help Warden Jenkins.

As soon as we got outside, Jo held me back while Dad, Rob, and Aleesha headed for the van. “Be right there,” she yelled. Then she said something to me, but she spoke so quietly I couldn’t hear her at first.

“What, Jo?”

“Alfredo wants to talk to you privately. As soon as possible.”

Y
ou shouldn’t go with Kim to talk with Alfredo,” Aleesha told Jo. “In fact, you can’t.”

I was beginning to regret making the effort to get the two of them into the same room. What had started as an attempt at reconciliation was turning into a verbal brawl. My cats at home sometimes spatted and played at fighting, but Jo and Aleesha didn’t act as domesticated as my pets.

“And why not?”

“He probably wants to talk about you.”

Although I agreed with Aleesha in principle, her response struck me as unusually, uh, catty.

“Sorry. I didn’t mean it that way. Really.” She must have seen my look of disapproval. “We don’t know what he wants to talk with Kim about, and he might feel inhibited having you in on the conversation. It’s probably not about you, but it’s apt to be personal. You don’t want to make him uncomfortable, do you?”

I smiled. Who but Aleesha could turn such a blunder into something so sensible and do it so easily?

“But he doesn’t
know
you, Kim.” Jo didn’t even bother looking at Aleesha. “He’s comfortable with me. He’d probably freeze up and not talk without me there. Besides, who’ll translate?”

“The warden has arranged for a neutral interpreter,” I told her. “Someone who doesn’t have any personal interest in what Alfredo has to say and who’ll also serve as a guard.” I thought
guard
would cause fewer objections than
chaperone
.

Jo might not have growled aloud, but Aleesha and I had

obviously failed to convince her that her absence would be for Alfredo’s benefit. How I was dying to tell her,
“Jo, there’s more to this than you realize. If I dared to tell you what, I could let you come and translate, but I can’t take any chances. Not my idea. Warden’s orders. “

Instead, I said, “That’s what Warden Jenkins is insisting on. He’s the one who says you couldn’t come. Blame him if you want to blame anybody.”

“You just don’t want me to visit my boyfriend,” she said as she stormed out of the room.

Huh?
I don’t know which shocked me more—Jo’s lack of understanding or the fact she’d openly referred to Alfredo as her boyfriend.

“That went well, don’t you think?” Aleesha said. “I thought she’d be upset about not going with us.”

That bit of extreme silliness broke the tension Jo’s reaction had left in its wake, and we cracked up laughing. Once we settled down again, I realized what Aleesha had said.

“You’re not going, either, you curious critter.” I grinned at her.

“I’m going with you in prayer,” she explained. We hugged.

“Time to go,” Rob yelled from the doorway.

He and I didn’t talk much in the van. We both realized I was facing a far different ministry challenge from anything God had asked me to do in Santa María. I tried praying about my specific concerns for this conference, but my prayers kept coming out as,
Help me, Lord. Help Alfredo. Help Mrs. Warden Jenkins
.

Over and over and over again until we arrived at Warden Jenkins’ office.

I knew Rob was praying, too. He was that kind of Christian man.

“Kimmy, this is my wife, Laurie.”

“Hello, Mrs. Jenkins.” I started to shake hands with her, but she hugged me instead.

“I’m Laurie. We’re all members of God’s family. No need to stand on formalities.”

As nervous as I was about the meeting with Alfredo, my mind went berserk in a weird kind of way. “Or to sit on them, either.”

Warden Jenkins shook his head in mock disgust, but Laurie and I started giggling like a couple of young girls.

“Anytime you two are ready, I’ll send for Alfredo.”

I hadn’t noticed it before, but the warden liked to refer to the insiders by their first names. I’d never seen that in a prison movie. Must have been part of letting his Christianity show on the job.

He picked up the phone and punched three buttons. “Hello? Jenkins here. Please send Alfredo Rodriguez down to the infirmary. The doctor wants to check on his allergies.”

He looked at Laurie and me. “I assume he’s allergic to Chaplain Thomas. The non-Christian insiders could make big trouble for Alfredo if they had an inkling he’d requested a conference with Kimmy. It would look … suspicious.”

Laurie and I looked at one another. This was still a prison after all, and I’d only seen one side of prison life. A very small side. And an unusually tame one.

Warden Jenkins paused at the infirmary door and inserted an electronic card key.

“Kimmy, I let Laurie know what this is all about. We’ve both been praying for you.”

He shut the door behind him. It didn’t have an inside handle. I could never design a prison. I wasn’t sufficiently cautious or suspicious.

Laurie put her hand on mine. I’d begun trembling. So much depended on this meeting. I couldn’t imagine how many people the chaplain’s crimes had affected. Then again, I needed to remind myself I had no right to assume that Chappy was guilty. I needed to ask God’s forgiveness for that sin as much as for any other.

I heard a click at the door. Someone had inserted a card key. I tried to see the guard who’d walked Alfredo to the infirmary, but the door shut too quickly.

Poor Alfredo had big sweaty places under both arms. He looked wild-eyed. Terrified. Didn’t he know why he’d been brought down here? If the warden had fooled Alfredo by handling things this way, he would certainly fool anyone who would give Alfredo grief over it.

Then he saw Laurie and me. I’d never seen anyone go from terrified to jubilant quite so quickly. All smiles, he pumped my arm up and down until I thought it would either fall off or produce a roomful of fresh well water. He did the same with Laurie.

“Buenos días,”
I said. “Mi
español no es bueno.” Hello. My Spanish isn’t good
.

Laurie took my cue and spoke to him in his native tongue.

“No worries,” he said. “I speak more better English than I let know, but it isn’t so well, either.”

Thank You, Lord!

“Sounds like you don’t need my services,” Laurie said.
Don’t desert me
. I’d forgotten she was present partially as a chaperone.

“Don’t go, Señora,” he said. “If you are a Christian.” “I am.”

After a few pleasantries, I could tell that Alfredo was restless to get down to business.

“What did you want to talk with me about, Alfredo?” I asked.

He didn’t answer. The anticipation was making my stomach churn, and I thought my heart was going to jump through my throat. Could the problem be worse than the warden suspected?

“Alfredo …?”

He removed something he’d been carrying under his left arm.
Huh …
Maybe he’d been reading it when Warden Jenkins called for him.

“Will you … tell me how … how to … become a Christian?”

I
couldn’t stop myself. I threw my arms around him. I’m afraid I startled him at first. He handed me a
Santa Biblia—the
Bible in his heart language. I recognized the familiar-looking red paperback. It was identical to the one I’d read aloud from and left behind in Santa María.

“It belongs Jo,” he said. “She told me read it.” I didn’t even realize she’d brought it with her, but I spent a quick moment thanking God she had.

“I begin reading, but not all words understand. Teachings not … not how I live.”

What should I say?
Not a problem. Alfredo didn’t pause long enough for me to respond.

“Jo told me start
Lucas
. Have read
Nuevo Testamente
. All of. I am good reader.” “Fantabulous!” I said.

After cocking his head, his eyes questioned me before he said anything. “I do not understand. My English not so good.”

“The word I used means terrific! Wonderful! It’s a combination of
fantastic
and
fabulous.”
No need to confuse the issue by admitting that
fantabulous
probably wasn’t a real word.

From the way he narrowed his eyes at me, a vocabulary lesson was not high on his priority list. That was just as well. I didn’t want anything to sidetrack him from making the most important decision of his life.

“You help me become Christian, yes?”

Laurie looked at me with tears in her eyes. “Will we ever!”

“Yes.” She and I had spoken at nearly the same time.

I looked at Laurie Jenkins. Since she was probably thirty-five years older than me—maybe more—and a far more mature Christian, she’d undoubtedly had more experience in leading a person to Christ.

“Do you want to do this?” I
mouthed to her.

“You go ahead, Kim. I’ll pray for both of you. Let me know if you need help, though.”

I don’t know what I said to him. But from the things he told me, he already had a good grasp of repentance, faith, and forgiveness. All I needed to do was fill in a few gaps.

Once I felt confident that he knew what he was doing, I told him about the sinner’s prayer.

“Yes!” he said. “I am sinner. Want to pray that. But I do not … I do not pray before.”

“That’s okay, Alfredo. You’ll just be talking to God. He’s here in this room with us.”

“He is insider?” he asked with an all-too-serious look. Then a smile broke through. “Joke.”

“He is very much an insider,” I said. “Although He stays here all the time, He’s not a prisoner. And He stays everywhere else at the same time.” Aware that I’d probably confused him, I clarified. “God is everywhere in the universe at the same time.”