Radiant Joy Inside Prison Walls

I hadn't seen so much radiant joy in a long time 

as we saw in the prison we visited last weekend.

Last weekend a group of twenty from our church practiced one last time and traveled the nearly 2 hours to the prison where we have ministered for around 20 years. 

It is always a blessing--not just to them but to us.

For obvious reasons, you don't take cameras in, or even cell phones, although this is one time I wished so badly that I could have captured in pictures for my blog what I can only try to describe in words. 

We have to get prior permission to even bring instruments. This time we had handbells--with all the foam pads and bell cases--and a musical saw, (something the guards do wonder about!) to be played by our dear Bro. Alvin Gafford, who is in his 90's, and still was willing to go play his saw 

even though he had to be wheeled in by wheelchair. 

And we waited nearly 45 minutes in the entry room before anyone showed up to let us through the metal detector and all the locked doors and gates.

The cold, blustery wind had been blowing dreadfully as we unloaded ourselves and our equipment.

You never know from one time to the next just what is going to happen. 

We just know that it is always worth whatever it takes to bring some joy to a place where 

joy doesn't grow on trees--not even Christmas trees.

Yet down in this prison, there is a core group of men who have learned to find joy in Christ,

and who have learned to make the best of their unfortunate situation,

and make, in a sense, a Christmas tree out of the tumbleweeds of their meager existence.

  There is one long outdoor stretch of sidewalk we have to walk through in the December cold, and I always enjoy that fresh air after the cramming through the metal detector and into the small hallway and small, fenced enclosure. 

The wind had calmed amazingly since we arrived.

I was exhausted and parched when we got through all the locked doors and gates and arrived to the last door into the dining hall turned meeting room.

As I turned away from the drinking fountain, I realized I was being watched by several pairs of eyes through glass doors.

Prisoners in green jumpsuits were smiling and waving, and I smiled and waved back.

We all hurried to set up our bells and equipment while the prisoners filed in.

The atmosphere was unusually charged with energy and excitement.

As  Bro. Robert led "Joy to the World," we sang, 

"He rules the world with truth and grace,

And makes the nations prove the glories of His righteousness, 

And wonders of His love.

And wonders of His love."

Those words struck me with a new and powerful force.

It was the "wonders of His love" that brought these men to this room and to this time in their lives.

It was the "wonder of His love" that had drawn them to Christ when they were down and out and messed up.

And yes, it was the "wonder of His love" that brought the twenty of us free people together to not just minister to the prisoners,

but to worship together with them as one.

Far be it from us to go in there and think we can look down our nose, or think we have a handle on life or are somehow better than they are because we didn't mess up like they did.

We are all messed up.

We all need Him Who loved us and shed His blood for our sins

to wash us white as snow. 

Just because maybe they've stolen and we've only lied doesn't make us better.

Just because maybe they committed fraud and we just sinned in our attitude doesn't make us better.

Just because maybe someone there got caught in a cycle of abuse, or drug abuse, or murder or some other scandal, and all we did was disobey or complain or act proud or throw a fit and then tried to justify ourselves

doesn't make us better.

We all had to come to the cross to be forgiven.

And there are no comparisons at the cross.

For all have sinned and come short of the glory of God.

 ******

But there we were, all behind bars for a little while, all having been caught in our pasts in some kind of sin or many kinds of sin, 

yet all having faced up and 'fessed up
and been brought to the gospel and finding peace and justification through Christ.

One man, whose face beamed throughout the evening, shared his testimony with Jonathan and me afterward as we mingled with the prisoners to shake hands and share a few words of encouragement to as many as possible. 

He showed us a long scar on his neck where he had sliced his artery in an attempted suicide two years ago.

"I died," he told us, "but they brought me back to life."

He told us how God had revealed Himself to him, and told him, "I have a purpose for your life!"

He said he has never been the same since.

He used to suffer so much from depression, but now in prison, he said, "I am freer than I have ever been!"

Partway through our service, the men wanted to sing a song for us.

Some of them had formed a choir, and one of the men who was a musician both played the piano and directed the little choir. 

They lined up facing us, and the director played an introduction and started the men singing "O Holy Night."

I watched, almost in tears, as those men's faces turned upward toward the director and toward us.

Their faces were radiant.

I have not seen that  much joy outside the prison walls.

Not in the faces of people shopping in the Christmas aisles.

Not even in the faces of people at our church.

We had to go inside prison walls to find such radiant faces, such amazing energy. 

I was sure the angels were smiling.

And sometimes it is in our chains of circumstances, 

our difficult places, 

our prisons,

charged with hurt and grief and guilt and painful experiences and accusations and scorn,

that we find real joy.

Not the joy that is spelled h-a-p-p-i-n-e-s-s,

but the joy that is spelled

G-O-D w-i-t-h U-S.

A joy that the world cannot give,

and a joy that the world cannot take away.

Our Sam

Well, Sam had a birthday again, and now he's much taller than I am.

I hardly know who he is!

I have to tell myself--that tall, handsome boy is my son!

But yeah, even tall handsome boys have to put up with little brothers!

Carrie made this delectable cake with peanut butter cups in the middle layer of icing.

And for his birthday supper we used these leftover Thanksgiving plates that I'd gotten last year at Hobby Lobby. I love plates with something meaningful on them.

Sam is a good boy, even if, through the years, he's had to live through true and untrue accusations and criticisms about anything from pulling someone's hair to supposedly making fun of another someone for being fat. 

He knows how to take responsibility for what he actually did,

and he knows how to just simply tell the truth about what actually happened when he is accused of things he did not do. 

He knows how to come to his mother and ask forgiveness for what he's done wrong that his mom didn't even know about. 

And nothing can make me prouder of my son than that.

Nothing can make me prouder of my children than for them to be humble.

I would rather my children make mistakes and do some wrong things and be humble and honest about it,

than to be frantic to be seen as perfect and end up being self-righteous and unable to take responsibility for anything wrong they do.

I would rather they accept criticism cheerfully than go around always finding fault with the other person and being masters at putting others on guilt trips.

I would rather they take the blame than be always dishing it out and ending up playing blame games in order to put down and manipulate others. 

I would rather they be more concerned about their heart than about their head.

And I would rather they be more concerned about their attitude than about their image.

And so my oldest son grows up and is almost graduated, and he makes me humble and proud all at once, and only other mothers and dads can quite understand that!

"Jesus Loves Me"--In Memory of Don Toncray

Yesterday we attended the memorial service of a dear man, Don Toncray, who had for a number of years attended our church with those who have given him care. 

As I understand it, the only son of his parents, Don has no living relatives.

Don's parents had attended the Methodist church in town, and it was here in this little chapel that Don had been baptized on the confession of his faith in Christ, the congregation was told.

The chapel of the United Methodist Church in the middle of town was packed.

Three different people shared memories, one who was friends with Don since Don was a little boy, brain damaged at birth yet having an almost photographic memory and remembering almost everyone he came in contact with.

Our pastor led in the song, "Jesus Loves Me," which was Don's favorite, and which he loved to help sing, without the stuttering that usually hampered him when he tried to talk.

I was wiping tears as we sang this simple song, thinking about this simple man, 

and wondering if we wouldn't all do better to be more simple, like him. 

Our former pastor, Bro. Hunt, had been asked to speak for the funeral, and he shared memories and sang a song with two of his grandchildren, about Jesus' little lamb.

Raised with love and kindness showered on him by loving parents, Don was known for being loving and trusting of everyone.
He was also known for his unique sense of humor. 

Some of us only knew snatches about this amazing man, as he came to church and sometimes shared a stuttered prayer request or even asked to go up front and sing or have some kind of thought to share. 

He always made us smile, and didn't seem to mind what anyone thought of him. 

He was very secure.

j

 We were deeply touched to hear what happened the day before he died. He had been in a lot of pain but that morning, he told his caregiver excitedly that Jesus had come to him, through the ceiling, and had pushed him where the pain was, and now he wasn't hurting anymore.

"I'm healed!" he exclaimed.

He also told the caregiver that Jesus had told him that He was coming again.

And Jesus did come.

About 2:00 the next morning, after being up with Don, when the caregiver came to bring Don a drink, Don had suddenly gone. 

Jesus had come for his "little lamb."

I had heard that story a few days ago, and later I thought how easy it is to not value someone like Don. 

He doesn't seem as smart and intelligent as others, yet in reality he was probably smarter than some of us who can't remember faces or names from one day to the next. 

And I thought how if God valued Don enough to appear to him, shouldn't we value him enough to attend his memorial service?

Obviously many others felt the same way.

A picture of Don years ago, with his mother, apparently in Hawaii.

Afterward, we met Donald Lefever, our dear friend, who had given Don Toncray singing lessons many years ago after it had been discovered that he could sing flawlessly even though he stuttered when he tried to talk.

This Bible was open on the table of memoirs.

And so I kept thinking and wondering,

what if we were more like Don?
What if we believed more, instead of trying to understand?

Constantly surrounded by the loving care provided by his parents or caregivers that they were able to generously provide, Don learned to trust and love everyone.

instead of feeling frozen and alone in a world of ice.

Instead of waiting, paralyzed, for all his fears to come true,

he enjoyed the serenity of wonderful care because of the generous provisions of parents of means.

And we, too, all of us,

have a Father who provides for us and a Savior Who died for us.

Like Don, when we are unable to understand,
let's just hold His hand,
and believe.

Crystal With Us for Thanksgiving!

Thanksgiving was a happy holiday this year for us again-- especially since Jonathan had been able to get our daughter Crystal a ticket with his free miles to fly home for the weekend.

I went shopping day before Thanksgiving and couldn't help snapping a shot of these beautiful bouquets.

Definition of contentment--

"Drooling over Thanksgiving bouquets at Safeway's floral department and leaving them there."

I loved these Thanksgiving balloons, too. 

But you can't have Thanksgiving bouquets and balloons AND Thanksgiving dinner.

Soo--the balloons stayed, too.

Then we stopped at Big R for something and here was the cutest western style Christmas tree set up there.

Thankfully our family was getting over weeks of respiratory illness and coughs when Crystal came home. I had to stay home from church two Sundays, either sick myself or with sick children.
In desperation over how to amuse three sick young children, two different times I played Scrabble with them!

Even the cows get pumpkin pie! :)

Our oven went out on us a few days before Thanksgiving, but Jonathan was able to find a "new" used stove for us, and he and Sam installed it. However, the oven needed a good cleaning, so here is Carrie doing the job with oven cleaner. I so appreciate Carrie pitching in and helping me so much.

I saw a picture of a unique table centerpiece that used driftwood (which I at first thought was antlers)
and that gave me the idea to use the antlers from Jonathan's buck that he got this year
as part of our table centerpiece for Thanksgiving.
Thanksgiving Eve I read a couple poems from a Thanksgiving Ideals.

Timmy seemed to think this chick (which he'd hatched in the incubator) on a miniature sled he concocted would make a nice centerpiece, too! :)

Crystal arrived home very late in Denver, and Jonathan and Sam went to pick her up,
coming home at 2:15 a.m. with the last few miles slick with ice.
Jonathan almost fell asleep different times.
So thankful she was safe and sound here for breakfast on Thanksgiving morning!

Having family worship in the morning instead of the evening, since some of us were too groggy to do much useful!

Everyone enjoying having Crystal here!
She had just brought one little carry-on so had to make do with whatever she could find in her closet!

We had invited some friends for dinner, and again my girls helped so much. Rose had made a pretty cranberry jello the night before.

Carrie is our early bird. She goes to bed early and likes to get up around 5:00 to have her devotions, so I had gotten our turkey ready the night before, and she put it in the oven very early.
I love to serve the turkey whole. This dinner was quite simple, but so fun.
Carrie also made the mashed potatoes and gravy.

Our two families sang the doxology together before the meal, and afterward we shared around the table things we were thankful for--"Meaningful things," Jonathan said.
"Not just puppies and chicks!"
He wanted us to remember things that are worthwhile, eternal, and not just trite.
Then some of the children took off to play on the ice at our pond.

Not much was left of the sweet potato casserole our friends brought.

Crystal played some of her choir music that she was practicing singing for the Penn View Christmas Musical, which is being performed next weekend, Dec. 12-14, if any of my blog readers would like to watch online.
You better believe we'll be watching online, and looking for one very special person in the choir!

Even the cat swooned from the beautiful music!  :)

It should have been vacation, but Crystal had two large assignments that she hadn't even started and were due in three weeks, so yes, her mom kept her nose to the grindstone.
Here she is working on a term paper.

Thanksgiving evening Jonathan read the most hilarious Thanksgiving story called "One Terrific Thanksgiving." That story even had Sam leaning over the sofa to listen and look at the pictures of this crazy bear who loved to eat more than anything else, and who had to be taught a lesson by his friends about what is really important about Thanksgiving.

Carrie listened from the kitchen while doing dishes.

Morning and evening Thanksgiving Day, Crystal and we worked on a college project. It was a scrapbook of articles, poems, songs, and prayers compiled for her Christian Living class, and it was supposed to be a minimum of 25 pages. We managed to get about 32 pages done. The children and I had helped to gather materials for her to choose from, make copies, and cut out little creative accents and decorations for her from magazines, old Christmas cards, etc. I really enjoyed doing this project together.

And Jonathan helped her with her computer programming, downloading a different program for her since the other free program was giving her so much trouble.

And that's all for now!