"WAITING ON THE LORD"

One of the amazing attributes of our God is that He uses different and creative ways to get our attention!  Some times He gets our attention in a dramatic way, like He did for me in 2011, or He can get your attention in a quiet, more subtle approach like He did with young Samuel, in the temple.  Our God uses the method that He deems appropriate for each one of us.  He wants to know if we are listening to Him.  I heard Him loud and clear on April 6th, 2011, when Homeland Security arrived at my house, and now I have heard Him with a still small voice.

This Fall, when I was under house-arrest, I had to commute from Pittsville to Spencer, where I worked to assemble bee hives for my employer.  I was not required to punch a time clock, since I was paid by the number of boxes I built.  I took my time on my way to and from work, so I could soak in the beauty of the Fall season.  There seemed to be an unusually high concentration of Bald Eagles this year, as I would see them almost every day.  When I saw them on a field or soaring in the air, I would find a place to pull over and just watch them.  I am fascinated by these birds.  I could watch them all day long!  These birds are so large, yet lean; they are strong, they exude confidence in their posture.  The best part is watching them in flight.  Their wings seem to work effortlessly as they propel themselves into the air currents.  They soar on the winds, gliding over the fields, looking for prey.  I love watching these majestic birds.  Little did I know then that God was speaking to me.  It was as if He wanted me to study them so I could recall it at a future date.

If you have read my previous blog posts about my experience in Terre Haute, which I have "lovingly" renamed Terror Hut, you probably noted that I was being challenged to "prove my Faith".  I must say here that my Faith was given a real work out!  I would love to tell you that I passed with high marks, but I'm not there yet.  There is a lot of room for improvement.   While I was there, and before I got my F.M. Radio, I tried to recall the words and tunes of some of my favorite worship songs from church.  I would remember the words, but not the melody or the other way around.  I never really thought about committing them to memory.  Finally, I had part of a song come to my mind and am certain that God placed it there.  I only remembered a few words and the melody that went with it... "Strength will rise as I wait upon the Lord, wait upon the Lord, I will wait upon the Lord..."   This is all I could recall of the song and I couldn't get it out of my head.  So I said to God, "I am waiting on You, please give me strength!!"

When I was transferred to Ohio, this tune was stuck in my head the whole trip.  I knew God was reminding me to not get lost in my fear and anxiety, but to be confident because HE IS MY GOD!

It was over a week at Elkton before I was able to get a Bible in my cell.  On the third day of my stay, there was a man on the "range" passing out devotional books; "Our Daily Bread" and "Today".   I got his attention and asked him for a copy.  He slid them through the gap on the door jamb.  I pulled them through and headed for my bunk to read them.  I took out some paper and wrote down the scripture verses on it.  The first verse I found was the theme verse for "Our Daily Bread" which is:  "Those who WAIT on the Lord shall renew their strength".  Isaiah 40:31a.

I received a letter from my beautiful wife and in this letter she was telling me about the message she heard at our home church, Northridge.  Pastor Jason is going behind the scenes of Christmas Carols.  The scripture used that Sunday was in Lamentations 3:20-24.  However, Jeannie found additional verses and included them in her letter.  "I say to my self, the Lord is my portion, therefore I will WAIT for Him.  The Lord is good to those whose hope is in Him, to the one who seeks Him; it is good to WAIT QUIETLY for the salvation of the Lord."  Lamentations 3:24-27.

Are you seeing a "pattern" here????

I tuned into one of the pastors I enjoy listening to on the radio:  David Jeremiah, from "Turning Point Ministries".  He has been teaching a series about courage.  He was speaking about the Discipline of WAITING!  He had my attention, so I grabbed some paper and my pen.  The key verse was Isaiah 40:31, but he included the second half of the verse which reads: "They will soar on wings like EAGLES; they will run and not grow weary, they will walk and not be faint."

When he read this verse, I recalled the eagles I watched this Fall as they soared over the fields.  I remembered the freedom they had as they rode the wind.  God is promising us this same strength and freedom if we will WAIT on Him.

Waiting is a lost art in a world where we crave instant gratification.  This used to be true for me, as well.  It was difficult to block out time in a busy schedule to sit and wait in silence on the Lord.  My mind would bounce around on all the things I needed to do or forgot to do.  It would be much easier if God would give us ATM's so we could drive up to it, enter our secret pin code and wait for God to dispense his strength to us.  I wonder if some of us go to church expecting the same results?  We sing the songs, we listen to the preacher, shake some hands and say, "OK, I have waited on the Lord, now I am strong enough!"  That is not what God is asking us to do.  Waiting on the Lord is just the opposite.  It is something that we need to do EVERYDAY, so that when the storms of life come our way, we will have the strength to  soar right through them.  We need to learn how to wait in silence before God and eliminate the distractions around us.

You would think this would be easy for me since all I do is sit around in a cell and listen to radio preachers.  The problem with that is I still have the same mind, that thinks about all the projects I left unfinished at our house, or about the uncertainty of my future.  I may not have all the distractions I had when I was free, but I still need to learn to turn down the noise from the inside.  Then I will be able to wait in silence before the Lord.  Then I will gain new strength.  So I can soar like an eagle.

So God is creative in how He speaks to us.  He uses different ways to get His point across to those whom He loves.  The question you need to ask yourself is, "Am I listening for that still small voice of God?"  And if you are, do you obey HIm?  I am still learning how to do that.  I am thankful that I am in a place with God where He doesn't have to use drastic measures to get my attention!  I much prefer the quiet voice of God.

I plan to spend my time tuning out the "noise" and waiting quietly before my God.  I want to learn the Discipline of Waiting.  There is some very good scripture about waiting on God.  Go and listen to the podcast on the "Turning Point" website with Dr. Jeremiah.  I felt compelled to share this with you all today.  I pray that it can be used by God to help someone else, as it did me.

God Bless!!
McFreedom

Fly the Friendly Skies (Part two)

...I watched the ground as we sped down the runway.  It looked like we were going to run out of runway, but we were airborne just before the end of the runway appeared.

We headed East, but we did not know our destination.  My cell-y was headed to Oklahoma City and I was headed to Ohio.  At one point of boredom in our hot cell in Terror Hut, we speculated that it might be a cross-country trip with stops along the way.  It turns out that theory was right!

The two rows in front of me were filled with U.S. Air Marshals.  They quickly started their own in-flight party.  One woman was eating sunflower seeds and using a pop bottle to hold the discarded shells.  Another woman had crackers and several toppings for them which she shared with her marshal friends.  Another man had fried chicken that he heated up in the galley.  They had a good time on the flight.  I wondered who was watching "us"???

The flight seemed to go by quickly.  I wasn't sure but it seemed we were flying faster than most commercial flights.  It was a hunch.  I could see rolling hills below when the pilot began the descent.  He banked the plane to the right and I could see a large river winding through a town.  This was Pittsburgh.  We did not waste any time getting the plane on the ground.  In fact, I believe we had priority over all other aircraft.

We taxied to a remote end of the airport where the charter services and the military base is located.  I could see a large yellow truck with emergency lights leading four buses and two vans, followed by an Allegheny Police Car.  As soon as we came to a stop, the buses pulled into formation and the Marshals began the staging for another exchange.  They boarded the first bus in line which was designated for Elkton.  They called out six of us to board that bus.  As I got up from my seat, I turned around and made eye contact with my cell-y.  I gave him a nod to say "Good bye" and he acknowledged.

I made it through another set of pat downs and waited again for a doctor or someone who has ever used a bandaid to make sure my wounded arm was legitimate.  Once I made it on the bus, I was able to warm up.  There were prisoners on board waiting their turn to board the plane.  I could see this was going to take a while.  I didn't have any direct communication with the Marshals on our bus, but I could see by their demeanor that they were going to be pleasant.  Perhaps they did not take as many steroids???

While waiting for the exchange to be completed, the entertainment unfolded in front of us.  The guys I didn't want to sit with were going through the pat down process.  A couple of these guys had tatoo's all over their bald heads and faces.  They were creepy to look at.  Others had long dreadlocks hanging to their belt.  The Marshals had to check every dreadlocks for contraband.  He seemed to think he found something, in his hair but wasn't sure.  He motioned for another marshal.  Soon they had four marshals going through this man's hair!!  But wait!!  There is more!  Another Marshal brought over a metal detector.  All this manpower produced nothing more than a delay (and maybe some dandruff).  But it was interesting to watch.  All these bad looking guys boarded other buses.  Whew!

When the exchange was complete, the convoy was escorted off the airport grounds.  Our driver headed down the road and pulled into a parking lot, which seemed odd to me.  They parked the bus and exited so they could empty their weapons and store them under the bus.  I wondered what people driving by thought when they saw these guys with shotguns and handguns next to an unmarked bus?

It wasn't long until we were off again.  The driver surprised me and told us how long it would take to arrive in Elkton.  He seemed...NORMAL!

The bus entered the interstate for a short distance and then turned off on Highway 30.  We drove through Clintonville and then wound our way through some beautiful countryside.  There were hills on either side of us that were wooded.  There were hills on either side of us that were wooded.  The road was winding and steep as we headed to the top.  The ride was peaceful, serene and comforting.  It was a gift from God after spending thirteen nights in an uncomfortable place.  It was as if God was telling me that all I need to do is to trust him when I am going through a storm.  When the storm is over, He brings a rainbow.  Or in this case, a peaceful ride in God's beautiful countryside!  God is Faithful to those who trust in Him.

The bus turned off the highway on to Scroggs Road, which took us up a hill.  Halfway up we turned into the Elkton Complex.  The buildings looked newer.  There was less fencing.  It did not look as intimidating as Terror Hut.  Our driver pulled along side the main building.  There was no double gate entrance to go through.  They let us off the bus on the same sidewalk visitors would use.  As I stepped off the bus, a Correctional Officer put a winter jacket over my shoulders to warm me up.  I was not used to such consideration and compassion!  We all shuffled into the rear door, which lead us into a secure area.

Once inside, we were unshackled and processed.  We were handled by C.O.s who were professional and efficient.  One of those individuals took me into an office area to complete some paperwork.  This was not an inmate area,  but it was available.  He pulled up a faux leather office chair for me to sit in, but I hesitated because I didn't feel worthy to sit in it!  It did feel good!  It was nice to be treated as a "person" again.

After processing us, they paired us up and they assigned us cells in the SHU.  I was not thrilled about this, but it is much better than Terror Hut.  The cells are cleaner, the climate is comfortable, the C.O.s are tough but respectable.  It was like moving from the Neva Jean Motel to a Motel 6!!  They leave the light on "every night"!  The time I spent in Terror Hut makes the time here seem easy.  I am waiting for bed space to open up in my new unit.  It is uncertain when this will take place.  I remain hopeful that it will happen before Christmas, but I may have to wait until January.  In the mean time, I have a Bible, paper and pen, an F.M. Radio, books and three squares a day.  I am not able to make phone calls until I have been in the SHU for thirty days.

I read my Bible, write letters and listen to some great preachers on the radio:  John McArthur, R.C. Sproul, Erwin Lutzer, Chuck Swindoll, Chip Ingram, James Ford, Jr., James McDonald, David Jeremiah and some local churches here in Pittsburgh.

I am going to be here for a while.  This will be my last "travel adventure" for a long time, unless my "pardon" is approved (I Wish!!).  I start a new adventure now.  I am looking for God's leading.  For now, I will wait for a bed where I will have more freedom, start a new job and get a better understanding of my options.

God will give strength to those who wait upon Him.  So that is what I am doing.  He will guide my steps.

God bless you and thank you for your prayers!!

-- McFreedom

Flying the Friendly Skies (Part 1)

We were sitting in the bullpen in our new uniforms, which were khaki pants and a t-shirt, waiting for more instructions.  I was experiencing so many different emotions; I thought I might explode!  I was relieved and celebrate that I was out of the catacomb.  Excitement, fear, nervousness and hope were swimming around in my head.  What stood out the most for me was the realization how God brought me through this experience in "Terror Hut" (pet name for Terre Haute)!  He provided everything I needed to make it through this experience.  So I silently thanked Him for what He taught me here.

The guards chained us up and we boarded the bus.  The air outside was chilly despite the bright sun.  My cell-y sat in the seat in front of me and we both looked up at the window to our former cell and he commented that "We made it!!"  As the driver pulled out slowly along the front of the building, we saw  the building with new eyes.  I wondered how long they would keep this prison open?  Because it is a key transportation hub, it is likely that I would be here again on my way home.  Perhaps by then, this building would be imploded into a pile of rubble.

The bus pulled into the double gate.  As we stopped in the middle, the marshals opened the luggage bay just below my window.  They pulled out shotguns and loaded them with shells.  They took out handguns and made sure they were loaded.  They made a show of this for us all to watch through the windows.  If anyone had thoughts of running away with leg shackles, the sight of these weapons may cause them to think twice.  They boarded the bus with their "enforcers" and we left the last gate.  We drove slowly around the backside of this sprawling compound, past the warehouses, prison garden and garages.  We turned toward the Wabash River and passed another set of buildings.  Between the building and the River were rows upon rows of new cars, trucks and buses.  These rows went on seemingly forever.  There were more new cars here than on Dealer's Row on Highway 61 in White Bear Lake.  It appears this must be a distribution center for the government vehicles.

The bus crawled closer to the Super Max Facility.  The guard towers loomed high over the foreboding structure.  I felt more oppressive as we approached the entrance gate.  One of the passengers commented that this was the last home of Timothy McVeigh before he was executed.  I began to feel anxious thinking we were going inside to pick up more passengers.  I did not want to sit next to someone from this facility!  The driver pulled up to the gate and stopped.  They did not open the gate, but they are slow to make the next move.  The driver shifted the bus in reverse and we began to back up.  He turned and pulled along side the road.  I felt relieved for the moment, but I wondered why we were even here.  After a few minutes, we saw a second bus approaching the gate from the inside of the Super Max complex.  They let the bus out of the gate and it pulled close to our bus and parked.

I could see inside that bus and saw several prisoners.  I noticed the inside of that bus had cages around each seat.  They can't let them on our bus because we don't have cages like that.  We had freedom to move about.  I also could not understand why they would transfer them outside of the security fence.  This didn't make sense to me.  The marshals walked toward my window and opened the luggage bay again.  They took out more weapons and loaded them in front of us.  The plan started to become more clear when they gave these weapons to the marshals on the second bus.  We are taking two buses to the airport in a convoy, Rubber Duck!!  (Reference to the movie Convoy...for those not from the 80's)

We headed to the public road and I took my last look around the complex hoping to never come back here again!  The drivers sped off and ran through a red light.  We must be important, huh?  We drove through the town toward the airport.  We were in a retail district when the drivers turned off on a side street.  They stopped behind the Burger King and a few marshals walked in to get some breakfast.  REALLY?... Was the only thing that came to my mind.  Some of the 'cons' made cat calls and rude remarks about women they saw in the parking lot.  Fortunately, they could not hear them and it was even better that people did not know these buses were loaded with convicts!  The marshals brought their food on the bus and we made it to the airport.  They opened a secure gate and we parked on the tarmac while we waited for the plane to arrive.

The airport is small, it is similar to CWA in Mosinee, WI.  We were early, so we had time to watch a pilot in training in a small plane.  They were leaving to do "touchdowns" today and made several passes until out plane arrived.  It was a large plane (perhaps a DC9).  The plane taxied onto the tarmac and parked.  Our buses pulled up and parked at the base of the stairway.  Additional marshals arrived in unmarked SUV's for security.  The airport fire truck pulled in front of the plane with its lights flashing.  A fuel truck pulled up to the wing and began refueling.  The marshals staged themselves on the tarmac with shotguns loaded.  It was quite a display of force.

While we waited for instructions, we could clearly see a person in every window except the first six windows.  This made the plane appear full.  I was hoping for a small crowd.  The plane was painted white with no markings to indicate that we were traveling on "CON AIR".  It was suggested that this could be one of the planes confiscated from Tom Petters, who owned Sun Country Airlines in Minnesota.  There is no way to confirm that, of course.

They finally started to move passengers off the plane and began to pat them down and stand in formation outside the bus.  Once they had everyone off the plane that were headed to Terror Hut, they began to move us outside the bus.  I just realized, "I don't have my photo ID for the TSA's!!"  They patted us down and made us wait outside the plane.  When the marshals saw the ace bandage on my arm, they reacted with suspicion and pulled me out of formation.  So I stood on the tarmac waiting for a doctor (EMT) to inspect my bandage.  The air was brisk, but the marshals wore jackets.  I had a summer T-shirt on and began to shiver to stay warm.  I shivered enough my chains rattled!  The "doc" showed up and verified my bandage was not harboring any contraband.

I was the last prisoner to board the plane and I could see that it was pretty full.  They did keep the first six rows clear, but there were two open seats just behind the mid-wing. exit row.  I sat next to the window and no one sat next to me.  When I walked down the aisle looking at the other passengers, I suddenly realized that this plane was transporting prisoners from all levels of security.  The men I feared would board our bus at Terror Hut, were on this plane!  Oh well, why should I fear?  My God is with me!

The interior of this plane did NOT look anything like the one used in the movie "CON AIR".  This plane looked like any other passenger jet.  There were no special shackles to hold us in our seats, other than our seat belts.  There was no in-flight movie or magazines.  No glossy cards to tell you how to exit the plane in an emergency.  No barf bags, no announcements or updates over the intercom.  This was a No-Frills flight without frequent flyer points.

I struggled to buckle my belt with my handcuffs on, but I managed.  I may have a new career as a contortionist!!!  My seat tray was down because the latch was broken.  This would normally result in a delay until the mechanics repaired it on a "normal passenger flight".  In this case, a marshal used duct tape to hold it together.  Why don't more airlines think to use duct tape????  We taxied to the runway and had immediate clearance to take off.  The small plane with the pilot in training was parked safely by the terminal....

TO BE CONTINUED.....

McFreedom

Finding JOY in Dark Places – Continued…

…. Our days and nights blended together.  We slept whenever we could.  The only sense of time we had was from our meal delivery and the window.  Boredom was the enemy.  I fought it with sleep, reading my King James Bible, praying and talking with my cell-y.  I realized boredom was winning.  So I started to Thank God for the things I had; even the simple things.  This helped me to change my attitude.  I went to the Old Testament and read all the stories of our forefathers.  Joseph – in prison; Joshua – taking over Canaan; David – taking out Goliath; Daniel and the big “cats”; and the big HOT furnace for Shad, Shack, and BGO.  I could relate to the heat and I know God is with me in this cell.  This gave me strength, comfort and great peace!  Boredom lost this battle with the power of God!

We had hoped that we would be shipping out before Thanksgiving, but we did not put much weight on the idea.  The Monday before Thanksgiving the C.O. gave us forms to order basic supplies from the commissary.   Supplies such as stamps, envelopes, paper, etc. would be helpful to cut the boredom.  I was not sure that any of my money on the “books” (an inmates account that is used to purchase items and make phone calls) had been transferred to the federal system from the county system.   I was relying on faith that it had come with me.  Our problem was that we had the form, but nothing to write with.  Once again, we asked our friendly neighborhood orderly for a pencil.  He would not help us out.  We also asked the C.O. but when he came by…nothing!  My cell-y, who is more experienced that I, called out to our neighbor, the gang member.  He said he would loan us his pencil.  We just had to find a way to get it from him as we were both locked in our cells. 

There is an opening under our doors that is about 1 ½ inches high.  So we had to go “fishing”!  A previous inmate had torn his sheet into strips and tied them together for our fishing line.  On the end of it was a bar of soap for ballast.  Using just his fingers, my cell-y had to “send” our line to the next cell and get it close enough for the gang member to reach it.  After several attempts, he caught our line and tied his pencil to it.  We pulled it in and we were able to place our order!  Our spending limit was $25.00 each.  We agreed to share the items, but we each had to buy our own F.M. radio.

Reality had set in that we would not be leaving before Thanksgiving.  We are not allowed to use the phone in the SHU until we have been there for 30 days.  I knew that “Mrs. McFreedom” was worried and wondering where I was.  There was nothing I could do but pray.  So I did…and often!!!  I had plenty of time.

Wednesday came and so did our commissary orders!  My prayers had been answered!  It felt like Christmas to a kid and you got everything you asked for.  The deodorant was scented so I put it on right away.  Now I didn’t have to smell my own B.O.!  I left the cap off and put it near the head of my bed as an air freshener.  I attacked the plastic package for the radio like a dog with a new bone.  It wasn’t long until I found two Christian radio stations.  I had not heard music for almost a month!  I laid on my concrete bed and soaked in the music.  I wanted to sing along with Worship songs, but I knew that I probably shouldn’t!  So I sang silently and lifted my hands to the Lord!  It was like water in the desert, or caffeine in the morning.  It was refreshing for my soul!

With the holiday landing the next day, I needed to get word to my wife.  I drafted a quick letter and put it in the door, hoping it would be screened and dropped at the Post Office that day.  At least that was what I hoped for.  It was later the next week before the letter arrived at its destination.  I spent the rest of the week discovering Moody Radio network.  I could barely get the station tuned in, unless I held the radio in just the right position.  They have wonderful teacher to learn from:  David Jeremiah, John McArthur, James Ford, Erwin Lutzer, James McDonald, and more.  This is a great ministry for inmates.  An elderly couple, Paul and Eleanor from Terre Haute, owned the local station.  I am convinced they run the station in their basement!  Paul and Eleanor would host Bible studies.  They read scripture but they used different versions of the Bible so they would get lost.  They even argued over different points, but it made me laugh.  I kept waiting for a dog to bark or the door bell to ring.  They were a hoot!

Just after Thanksgiving, I was laying on my slab (where else would I be???) when I heard the C.O. walking the range with his keys jingling (these are the over-sized jailer keys, much like the souvenir key I have from Alcatraz).  The jingling keys stopped outside my door and he slid some papers under the door.  I got up to look and saw that they were letters to me!!!  Several of them.  I was thrilled that my big brother had tracked me down on the Bureau of Prisons (BOP) website and shared with my family!  Great job, Bill!  My family found me and sent me letters.  Suddenly, I did not feel alone and isolated.  I read the letters over several times.  I felt connected again!

After thirteen nights here, we were notified when we received our breakfast trays that we were shipping out after breakfast.  There was a sense of over-whelming relief.  I could not take anything with me.  I took the letters I received, tore them up and put them in the “Shred-Master 9000”.

The C.O.’s escorted us off the range and we could feel cooler air.  They gave us new travel clothes and stacked us in the bullpen until the Marshals were ready to load us.  As we sat in the room together waiting, everyone started to complain about how they were treated here compared to other prisons.  I soon learned that we were not the only ones treated poorly by the C.O.’s.

After reading about this experience you may have a tendency to feel bad or pity me for what I went through.  This is NOT what I want you to feel.  I hesitated to write this entry for that reason.  Remember this:  I am here because of MY poor choices.  What I do want you to walk away with is this:  My God brought me through this!  I was alone in a dark place.  I called out to God and He heard me.  He knew what I needed and delivered me.  I saw God work in my weakness.  I am thankful for this trial.  I understand a little better why the Apostle Paul spoke of being thankful in every circumstance and under every trial.  God is powerful in our weakness.  I give praise to God for bringing me through this trial! 

McFreedom

“The closer we are to Jesus,

The closer you are to Joy.

Rejoice in the LORD always!!”  -- Erwin Lutzer

Finding JOY in Dark Places

"Consider it PURE JOY, my brothers, whenever you face trials of many kinds, because you know that the testing of your faith develops perseverance."   James 1:2-3

....We sat in a waiting area until the last of our group completed their processing.  One of the C.O.'s (this is short for Correctional Officer - also known as COPS) announced that we were going to stay here at the SHOE.  This was a new term for me, but I gathered from the groans of the group that it was not pleasant.  I learned later that SHOE is short for "Special Housing Unit" -- oh, SHU, not shoe.  I guess it depends on how you define "special".  I was about to learn the B.O.P.'s definition.

They marched us down the hall, free of any chains.  We were ushered into another holding room.  The door to this room was old-style bars that you may have seen in Sheriff Andy Taylor's office in Mayberry.  I'm not sure, but I think I found initials carved on the all by Otis!  It is typical in these holding cells (also called Bullpens) to have a uni-toilet in the room.  Not in this room!  I looked over the scuzzy floor and in the corner I saw a plastic urinal like you would get in the hospital sitting over in the corner.  What made this even worse was that it had been USED and was not cleaned out!!!  I could see the dried urine on the inside.  I shuddered in disgust at the sight of it.  I knew this was not going to be a good experience.

We had just changed into our "over-sized" new clothes and now had to change into the new set of clothes that met the requirements of the SHU.  They called us out in pairs and put us in handcuffs.  We were escorted to the control center of the SHU.  Here I could see two long corridors; each had an upper and lower corridor (they call these "ranges" - but this one made me think of a catacomb).  There were six steel steps going to the upper "range" and six steps going down to the lower "range".  We were marched up to the farthest range where the heat was accumulating.  There was a large turbo fan facing down the range, but it wasn't turned on.  I don't believe it was ever used while I was there.

The C.O. was holding my arm with a tight grip as we marched past the beat-up green doors of the cells.  I could feel the eyes watching me from inside those cells.  We stopped in front of a cell and the C.O. called "control" to have them open the cell door.  We walked into the cell and they handed us our bed rolls.  We stood there motionless in a state of "shock"!  My thought was, "Were we in a third world country?"  The cell was disgusting!  The uni-toilet had not been flushed from the last use.  (I will spare you the gory details!!)  The toilet drain had a leak and had collected under the toilet.  There was a mattress missing on the top bunk.  The lower bunk had an old mattress that appeared to be made with a burlap-type material.  It looked like a good "bed bug farm".  The C.O. brought in another mattress for the top bunk.  This one was a fiber-fill mattress but it had no covering - just the batting!!

My new cell-y and I stood there with our hands cuffed behind our backs in amazement by the conditions of the cell.  It seems the C.O. was put off by the conditions, also.  What happened next had to be directed by God himself.  This is the one and only hint of compassion I experienced by the C.O.'s at Terre Haute.  The C.O. called control and said, "I need another cell!"  They located one on the other range.  We marched down the dank corridor and went down the steps and over to the other range.  They put us in the last cell on the range.

This cell had a clean toilet and the mattresses had vinyl covers on them with some tears in them.  They took off our hand cuffs and locked us in.  My cell-y was younger (34 years old) and very nice.  He graciously let me have the lower bunk because of the bandage on my arm (from the burn).  The lower bunk was made of concrete slabs.  The base was poured concrete.  The top was three separate slabs they joined together.  (Not your typical "Sleep Number bed")  The long edge was uneven and looked unfinished.  There were four heavy, large eye bolts stuck into the four corners of the slab.  They must have used these to lower it in place with a crane.  I felt like I was sleeping on top of a burial vault.  The mattress made it comfortable.  Above me the upper bunk was filled with graffiti and "soft pornography".  I wondered how this even got inside a prison?  The rules are clear, but they are not being enforced.  The cell across the hall was "fishing" for a Spanish pornography magazine.  The "line" they used to grab the magazine came unhooked leaving the magazine stranded on the range.  The C.O. came by, picked it up, and handed it to the inmate that was trying to obtain it.  It makes me wonder if the C.O.'s bring in the contraband.  The pictures above my bed melted away when I scrubbed them off with wet toilet paper.

There was a window in our cell that was 4 inches wide by 36 inches tall.  The glass was clear and faced the West.  Just below us was the parking area for the buses so we could watch arrivals and departures.  This was also the smoking area for the staff.  Off to the South was the newer  SuperMax facility which gave me goose bumps to look at.  As hot as it was in our cell, those goose bumps felt refreshing.  We did not have a clock, so there was no sense of time.  We did have a "sun dial" marked on the floor and wall of the cell from 2:30 p.m. to 6:00 p.m., thanks to a previous inmate.  The marks were way off for this time of year, however.  I saw some spectacular sunsets from this window.  The colors were turquoise sky and deep oranges as the sun set on the other side of the Wabash River.  I felt as though God was letting me know that I would be all right.  It was a display of His mercy in a dark place.

The floor looked as though it never saw a broom.  We found clumps of hair that we named "Hair Bunnies".  We used toilet paper as gloves and picked up as many as we could and flushed them.  The problem is they kept coming back!

We had a shower in our cell, but it was "frightful"!  It was tucked in a corner and triangular in shape.  The stall was tiny.  It was all I could do to stand straight up and touch the walls or the curtain.  The walls had been painted, but had large areas that had peeled off and lay on the floor.  The walls were coated with soap residue from lack of cleaning.  There was more hair on the floor and in the drain.  On the wall to the range they had a window for the C.O.s.  The window frame was painted green once, but had turned rusty, leaving rust streaks on the wall.  I wasn't sure if I was getting cleaner by going in the shower.  It was necessary though to shower, with the amount of sweating we did.  It averaged about 85 degrees in our cell everyday.  We tried to time our showers at cooler times of day because of the humidity we added to the cell.  I dried off after the shower only to be soaked with sweat ten minutes later!

We had the standard uni-toilet which had VERY good suction power, that could pull you in!  My cell-y demonstrated the indestructible power by flushing banana peels!!!  When it came time to leave, I was not allowed to take my letters with me, so I tore them up and flushed them all the way to the Wabash.  We named the toilet the "SHRED MASTER 9000".   The room had a couple of air vents that were painted white at one point, but now had rusted.  Air flow was minimal and offered little relief from the heat or the smell.  I think the building is so old and worn out that it will never smell good.  It didn't matter, it was by far better than the first cell we were in!

It took a few days to adjust to the conditions of our new house.  I tried to imagine that I was camping in the woods.  Except that is much different kind of dirt.  What did help me during this time was recalling the stories I read about Christians in Russia who were put in jail for their Faith.  They had conditions much worse than I did.  I also thought about the Apostle Paul who spent years in prisons that likey had no plumbing.  Compared to what they had, I was in a Marriott Resort!

When we arrived in the SHU, we were told that we could get books, paper, pencils, etc. from the orderly (this is an inmate with privileges) when he came around.  Our first night, he rolled his book cart to the end but his shelves were pretty empty.  We asked him to turn the cart tot he other side, but he started wheeling away.  We asked him what gives and he responded that the C.O. said we couldn't have access to the cart.  I quickly asked him if I could at least get a Bible.  He hesitated and then grabbed one from the shelf, opened it half-way and shoved it under our cell door.  My cell-y also asked for a New Testament. We had to fight to get them, but it was worth it!!  We mad other attempts to get books and pencils but were denied.  The C.O. told us the orderly was just "messing with us" and the orderly always told us he was under orders by the C.O.  Who do you believe?  One of those requests to the C.O. ended with the C.O. shouting and cussing at us.  It was clear that we would not be getting anything from them!  What matters is that God delivered His Word to us!  He is faithful to those who love Him!

The heat made everything worse.  Most of the time we only wore our over-sized pants with the legs rolled up.  Sitting on my bunk reading caused me to sweat!  We had a little relief in the morning, but not much.  The first few nights of sleeping were difficult.  Yes, it was hot, but the "noise" was never-ending.  The inmates had a nightly "talk show" that often lasted into the morning hours.  The "host" had a voice that reminded me of Denzel Washington.  Other participants were:  Indiana, Mississippi, J.D., and Mike-Mike.  The topics were as strange as their names so I tried to tune them out.  About the middle of our stay, 'Denzel' was shipped out.  There was no more talking.  I couldn't sleep, it was so quiet.  That didn't last long.  The next night someone made a wolf howl sound, next it was bird calls, chickens and other animals.  This went on for a long time.  Our neighbor, the "gang member" finally got annoyed and shouted with his low toned voice to knock it off, so he could sleep - "You Feel Me?"  The range was silent after that.  For a couple of nights, at least.

As if the heat and the noise weren't bad enough, every now and then we could smell something burning.  It smelled like burning toilet paper.  This went on the entire time.  One night the odor was so strong in the middle of the night that the fire alarm went off.  It was a deafening sound that would not quit.  Instinctively, I got up and got dressed because I figured they would make us go out to the cold yard.  Then it hit me like a bucket of cold water in the face..."I'm in prison!  They are not going to send us outside!!"  So I took off my socks and shirt and tried to bury my head in the blanket to drown out the noise.

Stay tuned for more from McFreedom tomorrow.....

The EXODUS

While I was hanging out in Columbia County Jail, Portage, WI, I was sensing that I would be transferred to the Federal System soon.  Part of me was anxious to get to the Federal prison because I spent some time with another federal inmate in my "pod" who told me how much better life is there.  The food is better, there is more freedom to move about, there are more things to do, etc., etc., etc.  He made it sound like an all-inclusive resort!!

Thursday (November 15th), my Christian Guard walked me to my wound dressing change.  I told them all that I had a feeling that I would be leaving on the Fed Bus the next day.  The nurses gave me well-wishes "IF" I left.  Somehow, their earnestness was a confirmation to me.  The medical team has advance notice of who is departing, so they can prepare any medications for transport.  The guard escorted me back to my pod and offered me encouragement "IF" I leave.

That evening, I gathered my things together so that I would not have to think so hard in the morning.  I sorted my snacks I had purchased from the commissary, so I could give them away to the inmates left behind.  There were a few guys that were hovering like vultures over a dead deer carcass.  All of them were staking claim to my left overs.  I wrote what I thought might be my last letter from that jail.  I decided to call Mom and Dad to say hello and then I called Jeannie.  I had to cut our call short because they were preparing for lock-down.  Little did I know that it would be my last call for a long time.

Morning came and we got our "breakfast in a bag".  I was chatting with Will, when the guard's voice came over the intercom.  She told me to get ready for transport this morning.  I was sensing correctly!  I felt excited and nervous at the same time.  I took a shower so I would be "fresh" for the trip to "somewhere".  I was hoping this would be Northern Minnesota, but it is rumored that the Bus travels South on Fridays.  Either way, I was leaving and I had new hope of getting settled into my new home before Thanksgiving.

They had me change into my street clothes for the journey.  Unfortunately, this meant I had to wear my dress pants and dress shirt.  All the other prisoners were wearing their khaki's.  I felt a little out of place!  The Marshals chained us up for the ride.  Leg shackles, belly chains and handcuffs.  The leg shackles are always the most uncomfortable for me, since I have large ankles.

The Marshals lined us up and we did the "inmate shuffle" out to the garage.  Once we were all in the garage, they opened up the door to the outside.  The morning air was brisk, the sky was clear and dark. The sun hadn't broken the horizon yet.  It was so nice to be outside even though it was cold.  The fresh air was a welcome freedom.

We boarded a full-size motor coach under heavy security.  When I got to the top of the steps, one of the Marshals placed a styrofoam cup in my hands with no explanation.  I found an empty seat and sat down while studying my new surroundings.  There were just over a dozen passengers so we had plenty of room.  The front of the bus had a wire cage that separated the Marshals from us.  They had two seats inside the cage; one for the driver and another was mounted sideways so they could keep an eye on the inmates.  There was a cage in the back of the bus, as well.  It was divided into two parts.  One for the rear Marshal and the other with a toilet.  They had a water cooler next to the cage, which explains the styrofoam cup!  I was hoping for Starbucks!!!!

While the bus pulled out, I looked up and saw my cell window for the last time.  They did not give us any information on the bus.  We did not know where we were going or how many stops we would make.  My hopes of going North were flattened when we entered I-94 Eastbound.  I had no idea where I would end up.

The ride was mostly quiet.  Many tried to find a comfortable position to sleep.  I, on the other hand, wanted to take in all the beauty God's creation could offer.  I watched the sun rise and I didn't mind when it was too bright for my eyes.  I just closed them and thanked God for the beauty He made.

We rolled past Madison. That was the last place I had seen my wife and family face to face.  The bus continued on South to Rockford and then East to I-90.  It was likely we would be going tot he MCC facility in Chicago.  Perhaps they would have me stay there for my intake process and send me back to Minnesota after that???  One could hope....so I did.

The driver pulled off on the Belvedere toll plaza.  There was a black unmarked Crown Victoria parked and we pulled up the bus next to it.  I was hoping they would bring us coffee and donuts.  They did, but they did not share it with those of us in the caged area.  It was not long until they swapped drivers and headed towards Chicago.

The buildings of downtown Chicago were getting larger as we headed toward them.  The driver was driving fast the entire trip.  He would often brake hard when he spotted a trooper in the median.  Traffic was backing up quickly and he changed lanes abruptly until he could find one that was moving.  He road the bumper of cars in front of him, which forced him to brake even harder if the car had to slow down.

We crossed the river and I could see they had Wacker Drive closed for construction.  (Made me think about the "Blues Brothers" movies -- you know that part, right Jake??)  We passed the John Hancock building.  I had forgotten what it felt like to be dwarfed by such a tall building.  We made a couple of turns and we passed by the MCC building.  The windows were small and there were lights mounted all over the building.  It seemed so out of place.  Why would you put a prison in a high-rent district?  I'll let you wrestle with that as you wrk on your 1040 forms!!

We pulled around to the other side.  One of the Marshals blocked traffic and then lowered the crash barrier in front of the garage door.  We backed into the garage and the door closed behind us.  One of the Marshals read some names off his list, but mine was not one of them.  There were six of us left on board.  One inmate said, "I guess we are going to Terre Haute."  My heart sank.  I knew it was a medium security prison and I was eligible for a low security prison.  They handed us some box lunches (bologna sandwiches, chips and a cookie).  I didn't have much of an appetite, but I thought I better eat something.  After we got out of the city and off the interstate, I quietly chuckled to myself as I recalled the movie "The Fugitive".  Considering how fast they drive, they could land this bus on a railroad track.  Fortunately, there were no tracks along the highway.  I'm sure I couldn't do all the stunts Harrison Ford performed.

When we crossed into Indiana, the driver pulled into a Subway.  Two Marshals went in to get sandwiches and we watched as they enjoyed them.  I wonder what the people inside the Subway were thinking when they learned we were sitting outside?

We were just arriving in the town of Terre Haute and the driver had his radio tuned into a country radio station.  It seemed strangely prophetic that the song playing was called, "Time Marches On".  I have heard this before but it had a whole new meaning now!  We passed over the Wabash River and then headed for our destination.  Everyone on the bus was wide awake and our heads were at attention, while we studied the sprawling compound.  We saw the large new prison off in the distance.   Someone commented that was a SuperMax prison.  I tensed up more!  The other prison was very old looking.  I questioned if it was even still in use.  Clearly it was.  The exterior was made of deep red bricks that were very weathered.  I have watched movies that show a bus arriving through double gates surrounded by razor wire.  I just never thought I would experience it first hand.  But here I was.

We parked at a doorway and they shuffled us into the historic building.  As we walked inside we were greeted with a heat-wave in the building.  It seemed unusually warm, but we would soon find out that this is their "normal" temperature.  We immediately were given new clothes to wear.  By default, they give you one or two sizes larger than you ask for.  They decided we needed to eat, so they brought in dinner for us.  It was semi-warm fish.  Then began the process of Intake.

I met with a nurse who asked if I had a TB skin test.  I told her I had one done 4 days ago in County Jail.  She told me that the test must be administered inside a Federal facility, so the one I just received at the request of the federal government was not valid!!!  She grabbed my arm and injected me again 1/2 an inch from the other test.

While we waited for everyone to go through the stations, we started conversations to learn where everyone was heading.  I told them I had no idea.  One of them suggested I ask when my picture was being taken for the Terre Haute "Family Photo Album".  I wanted to know, but I also didn't want to know.  I asked the guard and this is when I learned I was heading to Elkton OHIO!!!   I had seen this location in my Federal Prison Guidebook, but I was sure I was going to be in Minnesota, so I did not study it.

I was really disappointed now, because this is so far from home.  I knew it would disappoint Mrs. McFreedom even more!  I didn't want to tell her yet, but I knew I needed to.  Once we got settled here, I would give her a call to deliver the bad news.  My stomach was all twisted up now.  Surely God has a plan -- it just wasn't what I was hoping for......

To Be Continued....

McFreedom