Today I found out that Nash, the guy that was pulled back into prison politics, was moved to protective custody. I was talking with a friend at lunch who told me that Nash got beat up at rec for refusing to fight another guy after being struck. I'm really glad he didn't fight, though it pains me to hear that he was beat. I hope that he finds himself in a place where he can really dig into the Word and form a deep friendship with God.
I don't like the way prison works, but I'm here and must live in it. I can only be who God has called me to be among the people around me and hope to influence then for the better. I pray that God would make himself known in this place, either through me and other Christians, or through spiritual revelation. There is so much potential for compassion. I don't even take every opportunity that is provided.
"We are all faced with a series of great opportunities brilliantly disguised as impossible situations.” - Charles R. Swindoll
One thing that amazes me is how often the law is broken even within prison. I heard stories about cell phones being used for high-priced calls home but I think that's the only contraband that I haven't seen for myself. Everything else I've seen isn't even legal outside of prison.
At the first transfer unit I was at, there was a guy that overdosed on cocaine. He went into seizures on the floor and wasn't wheeled out for almost thirty minutes (a testament to TDC medical response - you do not want to get sick or injured here), then taken to a nearby unit for treatment. I assume the cocaine came through in a body cavity or traveled with him all the way from county jail.
The most common drug I've seen is marijuana. The first night I was in this dorm, three guys were smoking a joint in a shower stall. Many nights, when the fans come on, you can smell the scent of weed drifting from one of the other dorms. Most of the marijuana comes from visitation or guards that have been paid off.
Other drugs that come through include Zanac, crack cocaine, Ambien, Oxycontin, and Vicodin. Prison, as much as folks would like to believe otherwise, is not a place where addicts are separated from the drugs. It is only a place where it is a little more difficult or expensive to get them.
Today I got to see C. for the first time in a month. I haven't received a letter from her in more than two weeks. Needless to say, it was great to see her. She's been going 200 miles per hour since the semester let out with a job, internship, summer classes, and other responsibilities. She showed up stressed.
That is the hardest part of prison for me: seeing her stretched to her limit and not being able to help her. Instead, I'm an added burden to her and to my family. There's nothing I can do for myself; I have to rely on others for everything.
On top of that, C. had to leave early to get back to work on time so we wouldn't even get the full two hours of our visit. I was able to persuade her to stay for the whole two hours, but I felt terrible for being selfish and adding more stress for her.
I hate being here. I can't wait until I get out. Then I can be a helping solution to problems instead of a problem to be solved.
* "Hope is like the sun, which, as we journey toward it, casts the shadow of our burden behind us." - Samuel Smiles
Yesterday I was wakened by guard (a common occurrence in prison) in the mid-morning who told me that I was moving. I was confused because the lieutenant had told me that I could stay in my dorm. I looked over the move slip and it checked out. Not sure how it had happened, I asked to talk to some form of rank: sergeant, lieutenant, captain, or major.
One of the sergeants showed up about an hour later and ordered me to pack up and move before I could say anything. After I gathered my stuff on my mattress and dragged it into the hall, I asked the sergeant why I was being moved after being assured that I would stay put. He rudely answered that he had no reason, didn't care, that it came from the captain or major, and that I had to move immediately.
After moving to the new dorm I spent the rest of the day trying to get the chance to talk to the captain or major. That was futile. The next morning I was able to talk to the lieutenant, the same one who told me that I would stay in my original dorm. He said he was surprised about the move and would try to figure it out. He also suggested that I send a request to the captain or major outlining what had happened with the move.
Even though the new dorm isn't too bad - though it lacks hot water for cooking - I don't think it's fair for me to have to move when I didn't do anything wrong. I am in a new environment with new faces and new unwritten rules.
Because I already had a partial makeover with two black eyes and a swollen cheekbone, I thought it might be a good idea to finish the look and get a haircut.
In prison you have two options for a haircut: you can either trust one of the prison barbers to try to cut your hair to your preference with clippers, or you can break a razor, insert the blade into a comb, and get someone in the dorm to try and match your vision for a haircut. Either way you end up with someone inexperienced who usually makes you want to shave it all off in the end. The only difference is that, if you go with someone in the dorm, you can hold them accountable with some friendly ridicule (hey, you're just passing on what will surely come your way) and a promise to never return for his sub-par services.
Today I chose to go with the dorm option. I asked around to see if anyone was at least mildly capable of cutting hair. It came down to Blue, the spazzy guy who caught the mouse. I sat in the bathroom, not knowing what to expect. when the hair began falling to the floor.
When the damage was done Blue put the comb down and asked me for my opinion. I looked in the mirror and, to my surprise, saw a handsome guy with two black eyes and a great haircut. Not quite GQ material but, as I say, prison is not a fashion show. Later that night I thanked Blue with a dinner of Ramen, chili, corn ships, and jalapeno suace, a veritable gourmet prison dinner.
*Cowboy proverb
Not long after I wrote the last entry I put into practice what I had said about fighting.
There was a guy that lost a bet on a basketball game and didn't like my comments on the game (I didn't bet.)
"Look at the score," I said with 20 seconds left to play. His team was down by three.
"F**k you!" Catfish yelled and walked past me.
Next thing I knew I was in a daze with my head spinning and the angry dude in my face yelling, "You wanna fight? You wanna fight?"
"I'm not going to fight," I said.
He walked away.
A couple of guys came to me asking why I didn't hit back, and even offered to beat him to a pulp in my place. I told them that I didn't fight because, as a Christian I am not called to violence but to forgiveness and love; and, no, I did not want anyone to beat him up. That would be the same as me doing it myself.
Since then more than half the dorm have said they respect me more and would take up for me anytime, rather than calling me a wimp or pussy like most of the guys who don't fight hard. For giving me two black eyes with a cheap shot, Catfish is looked down on for the way he handled things because everyone knows I'm an easygoing guy and have no desire to fight.
Afraid to get a case (a disciplinary report on an inmate's record), I skipped rec that night but went out yesterday. The hall guard pulled me to the side and asked what had happened. I told her everything except who did it because "snitches" are the most reviled people in prison. The guards could easily watch the videotape and recognize who it was. She said that I couldn't get in trouble because I didn't do anything and I reported the truth.
Yesterday evening I was called to the infirmary for the injury report. Two guards took pictures and told me that I would get a case for "failure to report an injury." I didn't know that I was supposed to report injuries, especially since I didn't need treatment. They passed me on to the lieutenant for Safe Prisons paperwork.
The lieutenant had me repeat the story of what happened and also write it down. He pressed me for the name of the guy that hit me but I told him how snitches were viewed. I said that I want to live out my faith and tell the truth, but I couldn't tell the whole truth.
He also tried to move me to protective custody to prevent anything else from happening. I told him that I didn't feel threatened at all, had a good number of guys looking out for me, it would look like I had given names, and the move would be cheating me out of recreation, t.v., food in the dining hall, and people to talk to. Also, if I was moved off the unit, I would lose the opportunity to continue college at this unit.
After calling the captain to be sure that it was OK, the lieutenant had me sign another statement saying that I don't feel threatened and assured me that I would not be moved. If i had any other questions, I could ask him at any time. He was going to check the video to see who it was and probably call out a few guys who saw the incident.
When I returned to the dorm Catfish took me aside and apologized for snapping like he did. A lot of guys here don't have the integrity to apologize after something like that. I told him that he was forgiven, that I held no grudge, and explained why I responded the way I did when he hit me.
I don't think everything is over yet, both in terms of punishment or God's use of the situation. I am glad to have the ability to remain calm and live out my faith as a witness to those around me. I'm far from perfect but I know God has used me to impact others already. May His name be praised on the lips of the men around me!
Yesterday I had a great visit with my parents. I hadn't seen them in a while, especially my mom. I got a lot of encouragement out of that time, as I always do, and I think that they got a better idea of what the prison lifestyle is like.
After their visit I went outside with another guy and we were able to talk quite a bit. He said he felt like some of the guys in the dorm might fight him soon. I just dismissed it, knowing he could have a big mouth at times.
Little did I know it would happen so soon. In the evening he was playing dominoes and got into a fracas. The two guys moved into the dorm area where I was reading a book, trying to mind my own business. It was over in about twenty seconds with no one hurt at all.
Then, in one of those stupid prison gang politics moves, the other guy was told to fight again because he hadn't thrown "enough" punches. Now it's past 10 PM and I'm singing in my bunk while the fan is on. All I hear is banging around in the bathroom area. The guy I ran with came back out with no bruises while the other guy chipped a tooth and got a black eye.
I told the guy I ran with that I thought it was dumb to fight, especially over a domino game, and even more so twice in one night. Too much macho mixed with too little maturity is a bad concoction seen too often in prison.
"I learned long ago, never to wrestle with a pig, you get dirty; and besides, the pig likes it.” -George Bernard Shaw
I've been doing a lot of catch up this week - letter writing and reading. For a while I was getting letters too frequently to respond quickly, but the flow has slowed down, giving me a chance to equal the out box to the in box. My reading has been two newspapers daily, usually a bit of a magazine and, currently, about twenty-five pages of James Joyce. Right now I'm still losing ground in my reading. My mini-library is growing faster than I can get cover-to-cover. But that's not a bad thing (except where space is concerned) because I love reading.
By night I read my daily devotional, have my quiet time (although it seems that I'm the only quiet one), then read Lee Strobel until 'til my eyes drop.
I ran the farthest I've ran in four years today. At the afternoon rec I managed to pump out fourteen laps - about four miles on our over sized grass track. Along with soccer, reading, and camping, one of my other loves is running. I've been running since middle school and even completed the Great Ethiopian Run - at 7000-8500 ft, the world's highest 10K - in forty minutes. Since graduating from high school I've slacked off and haven't run as much as I would have liked. I'm going to use my current lack of obligations to pump my legs as much as I can.
There are a few blessings in prison, especially if you look for them.
"We run, not because we think it is doing us good, but because we enjoy it and cannot help ourselves...The more restricted our society and work become, the more necessary it will be to find some outlet for this craving for freedom. No one can say, 'You must not run faster than this, or hump higher than that.' The human spirit is indomitable."
- Sir Roger Bannister
Skipping Stones - self-composed
After baptisms down in the water
Me and a buddy slip away upstream.
Cracking jokes, bumping fists, slapping shoulders
We retrace the river's meander.
On a shallow slope of shore we stop
And begin our search for the perfect stone.
It must be flat, round, palm-sized
With an even balance for a level spin.
A flick of the wrist (opposite the Frisbee flick)
Sends the projectile hurtling over the water.
Bouncing on the surface of the lazy river
Leaves a trail of ripples as a wake.
One...two...three.four.five.six.seveneightnine
Sploosh! Bet you can't beat that.
Due to the building-within-a-building design and absence of windows here, I usually have no clue what the weather is like until I go outside to rec. If the field is closed, I know it is either currently raining or has rained and muddied the field.
This evening there were the usual thunderstorm warnings that accompany late spring in Texas, but suddenly one of the counties on the map overlaying CSI.NY turned red: tornado warning. Rec had just been called out and I didn't go because it was in the gym only. A couple of minutes after the red county, people started running back to the dorm. Hail was dropping outside and they had been ushered in because of the tornado warning.
For the first time I could hear the rain hitting the roof two layers up. Then rain started dripping in through the light fixtures stuck in an all-metal building with metal bunks and lockers all around me. If this thing does hit, I'm a goner.
Luckily there was no tornado. I don't think there were any touchdowns. We didn't even have a power outage.
*“How often have I lain beneath rain on a strange roof, thinking of home.” - William Faulkner
I think this week has been one filled with the most sleepless nights since I've come to prison. Last night I was going to get my six hours straight but someone had other plans. A couple of guys drank multiple cups of "pretties" through the night and created enough noise to wake me up at least six times.
A "pretty" is a coffee drink made with instant coffee, atomic fireballs, and fruit-flavored hard candy. It is probably the most disgusting thing I have ever drank, so full of sugar that it is almost syrupy.
Anyway, these guys were bouncing off the walls from the caffeine and sugar highs all night long. They finally woke me up enough times that I figured I would just stay up and try to read, but the noise from their off-key singing and running around the dorm kept me from being able to concentrate.
Most nights I can expect to stay up til around midnight or 1:00 a.m. when most of the late night conversations come to a close. I didn't expect to be rudely awakened three times (that I can remember) in one week. Perhaps I should begin to expect the unexpected, especially with the crazies around me. On the bright side, it's keeping me young.
WHAM!
Not again, I'm thinking as I roll over at 3 AM.
"Got him!"
Blue had just caught the mouse that had been terrorizing the dorm for the last couple of weeks. It even got into some lockers, including mine, and ate some soup, oatmeal, and chili.
First, with a shirt, then with a towel, Blue trapped the mouse and put him in an empty peanut butter jar. For several minutes various taunts, threats, and promises were voiced by guys in the dorm as Blue triumphantly showcased his prisoner overhead.
Even though the mouse had eaten his food, Blue decided to let it go on a probationary period. If the mouse ate any more of our food it was promised a quick death followed by a burial in a flush down the toilet.
Oh, the entertainment late at night here in prison!
"We get bogged down because we forget our purpose. We forget that what we are to be about is God - in our worship, in our learning, in our mission and in our service.
" We look for the quick and easy fix, the kind of thing that feels good. The prosperity gospel is so much more appealing than the real gospel. These things we do together - faithful worship and study, sharing our goods, taking care of those in need - these are not easy. They don't come naturally. That is why it is important we stay in community; we cannot go it alone. It is impossible for a Christian to be in isolation.
"... It would reflect the true gospel if we were able to say, 'Do you want to know why I like [my church]? I like it because it challenges me to grow in my relationship with God. I like it because it does not simplify capture, co-opt, and agree with the culture. I like it because I sense God's real active presence. I like it because we're a giving church. I like it because we help people.'
"..
.[H]ere's the only thing we [the church] really have: Christ. All we have to offer is Christ crucified, Christ died, and most importantly, Christ risen. It is, in the eyes of the world, not much. It is not enjoyment. It is not entertainment. It is not self-help. It is not the prosperity gospel. In the eyes of the world, it is nothing... but to those of us who have been saved, it is the power of God. It is nothing and it is everything."
(sermon from a friend)
WHAM!
"What are you guys doing?!"
Early this morning I was abruptly wakened, and rolled over to see two guards with one flashlight focused on two inmates in the bathroom with a spoon in one hand and a pen in the other.
"What's in the spoon?" the bigger guard snarked.
"Sweet and Low," replied one inmate, dipping his finger into the spoon and licking it.
"Let me see that pen!"
"it's a just a pen...see?" The inmate raised the pen in the air playfully.
"They're so high," the smaller guard falsely observed.
Humiliated, the larger of the guards said, "No, they just pulled one on us. They're not shooting up. Now you two, go on to bed."
The two inmates, trying to hold back an outburst of laughter at the over-zealous guards' mistake, hopped onto their bunks. They has just pulled a prank on the guard that had broken our water fountain and hounded us over every little slip. This guy was certainly not a well-liked guard, even among his co-workers, and they had just made him the red-faced victim.That prank was well worth the early awakening.
SLAM!
The two embarrassed guards stomped out of our dorm.
Jesus For President - Shane and Chris
"Within the circumstances of war, prayer becomes a word as befuddled in meaning as liberate or order or victory or peace. These prayers are usually understood to be Christian prayers. But Christian prayers are to made to or in the name of Jesus, who loved, prayed for, and forgave his enemies, and who instructed his followers to do likewise. A Christian supplicant, therefore, who has resolved to kill those whom he is enjoined to love, to bless, to do good to, to pray for, and to forgive as he hopes to be forgiven is not to be conceivably in a situation in which he can be at peace with himself.
...The Jesus way shows us that we need not battle violence with power and force, but with humility and revolutionary subordination. Violence eventually kills itself. Sometimes all the peacemakers need to do is battle violence with revolutionary patience and steadfast hope, for the universe bends toward justice and the entire Christian story demonstrates the triumph of love.
...Immediately following the Al Qaeda attacks of September 11, President George Bush proclaimed, 'Our responsibility to history is already clear: to answer these attacks and rid the world of evil.'... This goal is not new. The ostensibly good intention to rid the world of evil, ironically, is associated with some of the most evil and tragic events in history. Even Osama bin Laden's stated goal, more or less, was to try to rid the world of evil. Three thousand people were killed in the tragedies of 9/11 in the hope of destroying evil...Ridding the world of evil by violent means only creates and sustains evil. This is the point of Jesus' politics."
Laying in my bunk today I realized a startling fact: even in prison, with all the limitations that entails,
I am in a better living situation than three quarters of the world.
I eat three meals a day without any worries about when the next meal might show up
or whether it's nutritious.
So many people around the world are left with empty stomachs at the end of the day. I also have medical care, however lean the services may be, when the world can little afford a band-aid.
WIth divorce rates climbing and split families an ever present reality, I am blessed to have an intact family and great relationships with my parents and siblings. Correspondence with friends back home is always an encouragement.
Not that I enjoy it or say it can't be reformed for the better, prison is not as bad as some might say. I'm blessed to be in this prison system because
it could be much worse.
Jesus For President - Shane Claiborne and Chris Haw
[Referring to Revelation] "The world around John is detestable according to Rome's standards (Rome was certainly 'respectable') but, according to the standards of his great prophetic tradition, flowing backwards from Jesus, to David, to Elijah, and to Moses, the economy of Rome is not worthy of God's creation, according to this tradition. Rather, we should look to Moses' anti-imperial politics of debt-forgiveness, land redistribution, welcoming immigrants, keeping honest scales in the market, not charging interest or defrauding your neighbor, and helping even one's enemies - all of it worlds apart from the Roman empire.
And for the early Christians this was a major point of debate: Can they eat meat and wine of Rome? Can they eat the food that is polluted by the imperial cult?
...It is not easy to pull out of a relationship of dependency and romance. of lavish gifts and captivating beauty, especially with a bride as beautiful as Rome."
Now, substitute all occurrences of the word "Rome" with "America".
"We may live in the best Babylon in the world... but it is still Babylon and we are called to come out of her." - Tony Campolo*
( *See SImple Living)
It turns out the goal posts were only gone for a day so that the holes could be welded shut. Unfortunately, most of the the guys hadn't heard about the return so we were playing short-sided today - only 4-on-4.
I also had some good conversations with some guys in the dorm. The guy who bunks next to me really encouraged me by telling me to continue living out my faith just like I have. I have a lot of anxiety about the way I present myself and take much caution to not spoil my witness to the people around me. (* 1 Peter 2:12, 3:13-16)
The other conversation I had was with my bunkmate, Goat. He's been having a hard time in correspondence with his wife and kids. He's been taking a lot of his stress 
out through anger and just messing with people. I tried to encourage him and gave him a few tips on how to get stress out differently, like running or working out. I'm really hoping things work out on the home front and he decides to change his attitude so that it carries out into the world in a healthy way.
Jesus For President - Shane Claiborne and Chris Haw
In regard to Christian politics, some might say,"Sure, my citizenship is ultimately in heaven, but I have to live in the 'real world' now." In other words, acting heavenly on earth is too risky; or, Jesus was the Son of God, but he was not realistic; or, following the Sermon on the Mount will not work on earth, so it will have to suffice in heaven. This interpretation basically comes to mean that citizenship in heaven means nothing in the real world. Believers are then left with participating in the normal patterns of citizenship, with exploitive economy and violent militarism among its sins.
But, the problem is that Jesus' kingdom (and Paul's "citizenship in heaven") was about the real world, here and now. It was about allegiance. Jesus and Paul were telling the people that they must live here with their identities as aliens. They must live by the rules of heaven amid the violent earthly powers. And to claim that one's citizenship is in heaven is to say that you pledge allegiance not to any of the kingdoms of the world but to Jesus and the body of those who take on his suffering, enemy-loving posture toward the world. This is what Peter meant when he called the church a "holy nation, a people set apart". a people who are supposed to live as "aliens and strangers in this land.
Today I found out that Nash, the guy that was pulled back into prison politics, was moved to protective custody. I was talking with a friend at lunch who told me that Nash got beat up at rec for refusing to fight another guy after being struck. I'm really glad he didn't fight, though it pains me to hear that he was beat. I hope that he finds himself in a place where he can really dig into the Word and form a deep friendship with God.
