CHRISTMAS HOPE - PART 2

CHRISTMAS HOPE – PART 2

Saturday night we had the 2^nd Christmas concert of the season.  This is unusual to have two in one week.  The Mennonite Choir from Mount Joy performed tonight’s concert.  The Mennonite Choir from Mount Joy is a favorite group of many residents here.  They bring a large choir of about 22 men and women.  They sing without any accompaniment and they harmonize beautifully.  Their Canadian Pastor delivers a message and, unlike most of our outside visiting group, they believe in the Trinity as taught in the scriptures.

The concert was well-attended with most of the chairs filled up.  The chapel orderlies had to bring in additional chairs from the drug abuse classrooms down the hall.  The choir sang Christmas songs with customized arrangements.  It is so nice to hear female voices, and they sounded like angels.  I closed my eyes and let their voices wash over me.  The conversation earlier that day with Crankshaft and the Wizard had been rolling around in my head.  Hearing the choir sing helped to stop these thoughts from moving around.

The message given by the pastor was very good, as he related making room for Jesus in our hearts.  Then he spoke about how we need to clean up our lives in order to make room for Jesus.  I don’t know if he realized what he was saying, but it sounded more like salvation comes by cleaning up our act – instead of letting Jesus clean us.  He gave a muted alter call. (In other words, he encouraged people to accept Jesus Christ in their lives without any sort of challenge to come forward and acknowledge their commitment.

Meanwhile, Chaplain Johnson (the staff chaplain) had been hiding in the office of the psychiatrist during the concert.  He made his way to the front of the room and made some odd comments to guilt inmates to come forward.  He lacks any sort of tact, compassion or empathy.  He spoke as if this was an inconvenience for him.   Even if someone did want to come forward, they likely would not make a move out of fear that he would go out of his way to embarrass them.  He is good at singling out people in a crowd.  Despite his cold approach, the concert was well-received.  Most people here have learned to look past the side-show he puts on.

The weather up on Elkton “Mountain” has been unseasonably warm, so there hasn’t been any snow.  The absence of the white powder made it feel like just another Fall day.  Christmas Eve was no exception.  It was warm enough to walk the track wearing only a sweatshirt and shorts.  It was a beautiful day; the first of a four-day holiday weekend.  It was going to be a LONG weekend.  Many guys were dreading it as time passes so slowly on the long holidays like this.  This wasn’t my opinion however.  These long weekends are a welcome break to my routine.  The weekend would be special for me as I had a brand new Christmas novella to read, “An Endless Christmas”, waiting to be read.  The novella was written by one of my favorite authors (who just happens to be my sister-in-law, Cynthia Ruchti….[insert shameless plug].)  She writes books that leave me encouraged, inspired, and filled with hope.  This novella was no exception.  I had the book in my locker since the beginning of December.  Knowing I would have a long Christmas weekend, I decided to wait to read it until Christmas Day.  After all, the book was influenced by traditions from my wife’s family Christmas gatherings.  The Binder family in the novella resembles the love and grace of the Johnson family.

Christmas Eve was a warm day.  After lunch I took a walk wearing a sweatshirt and shorts.  The sun was warm on my head making me wonder if I should have put on some sunscreen.  I wasn’t that worried about it.  The day was surreal, melancholy and exciting all wrapped up in anticipation.

Chaplain Johnson, our resident purveyor of heresy, was hosting a special service today with his wife…err..excuse me, “Sister” Johnson, as he calls her.  It always sounds creepy when he refers to his wife as “sister”.  It sounds like something Abraham would say about Sarah.  Normally, I don’t look forward to his services, but this one would be different.  Back in October, Chaplain and Sister Johnson took a trip to the Holy Land.  This service was to show the pictures and video (on VHS tape) of their trip.  My interest was in the Holy Land, as I would like to visit the area someday (if I am able).  For now, though, I will settle for a video of someone else’s adventure.  Chaplain and Sister Johnson were “unique” tour guides for us as they narrated their adventure.  She has a warm and kind personality whereas he is bristly and stiff.  At one point they were at the Dead Sea taking turns filming each other bobbing in the buoyant waters.  He chose to walk into the water at a place that was quite rocky and he was taking quite a long time to get into the deeper water where he could float.  Sister Johnson was “coaxing” him to hurry up and get wet.  She said, “Hurry up Commandant!” and repeated that several times to him.  He remained silently stoic with a look of fear in his face.  He finally gave up and went back to the area set up for tourists to enter the Dead Sea waters safely.  This area was equipped with hand-railings and steps.  All of us inmates got a good laugh at this demonstration of his pride.

There were many other fascinating venues on their trip to the Holy Land that they shared with us.  They took us to the Sea of Galilee, Petra, Mount Nebo – where Moses saw the Promised Land before he died, the tomb of Jesus, the Garden of Gethsemane, the Wailing Wall and some ancient churches.  Despite Chaplains oddities and his heretical teachings, he did a good job of sharing his experiences of the Holy Land with us.  I really enjoyed the time watching and listening to the stories of their trip.

After supper, the air was chilling down but it was still warm and pleasant.  It seemed like a perfect night to sing Christmas Carols on the bleachers by the softball field.  I mentioned this to a couple of inmates and got a half-hearted response from them.  I also realized that we didn’t have printed lyrics to keep us from mumbling some made-up words.  The idea of singing Christmas Carols dissipated quickly, like the hope of a presidential pardon!!

Father Bernie made an announcement that he was about to begin a Christmas Mass in the Tower Chapel.  I knew they would be singing some Carols at this service, so I headed over to the chapel.  I have been to a midnight mass in St. Paul, MN and have watched a few on the television.  They are so peaceful and reverent, with beautiful music.  Father Bernie seemed to be in a hurry as her rushed through the Mass.  My friend, Logan, had made copies of the common Carols during their days of practicing and had invited the inmates in attendance to hang around after the Mass to join him in singing Carols.  My hopes of singing Carols on Christmas Eve were restored and I was looking forward to the opportunity.

Father Bernie ended the Mass and promptly disrobed from his priestly garb.  He then marched out to his office.  There were approximately a dozen inmates who elected to stay and sing Christmas Carols together.  We immediately began singing the Carols without accompaniment.  It was a very special time as we did our best to find the notes and melody.  My hope was being fulfilled and I was really enjoying the time singing praises to our Savior.

Then it happened!!  Father Bernie told the Chapel Orderlies he wanted to leave so they needed to clean up the chapel.  Now, we all respect the Chaplains, as they are officers first and then chaplains.  We respect their requests, but we know there is some latitude to make accommodations in cases like this.  Instead, our Chapel orderlies responded as though Jesus was returning RIGHT THAT MOMENT.  So as we were singing the carols, the orderlies went into “Rapture mode” and started to stack up the chairs in record time.  The metal rungs of the chairs made a loud clanking sound as they stacked them with fury.  Meanwhile, we continued to sing, despite the disruption of our reverent worship.  My frustration and ire was growing as they moved closer to my row.  I determined not to let the actions of our blind zealots keep us from our last song of “Silent Night”.  I remained immobile in my seat, as they pushed the stacks of chairs into the hallway.  I could see they were frustrated with my lack of cooperation, which gave me very brief satisfaction.  One of the robotic orderlies hovered over me resembling a vulture circling over his next meal.

We finished “Silent Night”, so I stood up and relinquished my rebellion.  No sooner had I stood up than, the swarming, chair-stacking vultures captured my chair.  The chairs were whisked away to the storage chamber to be brought back out in the morning.  Even though we had to compete with the clanging of the chairs being stacked, we still managed to enjoy the singing of Christmas Carols!

Perhaps what made me most angry about this was that they (the robotic orderlies) would not ask for our help after we finished singing.  Or perhaps it was that they were unable to deviate from their routine to allow these few men to enjoy singing Christmas Carols one night a year.   You see, the only reason they took the chairs out was so that the room would be ready for the Muslim prayer service the next day.  The robots could easily have removed those chairs before the service in the morning.  The static routines of prison cause some guys to stop using simple reasoning skills.

I walked back to my cube, feeling angry, as my hope of a peaceful Christmas Eve was stolen from me.  I walked past the bocci court where a few had gathered to enjoy the warm night.  I stopped by one of my friends and began to ‘belch’ out my swelling frustration to him.  Nothing is private in prison, so just as I vented my anger, one of the chapel robots passed by and overheard my rant.  He continued walking and raised his finger to announce my “number one” status and proceeded to tell me off.

The stress of this milestone Christmas escalated to a new record.  I went back to my humble cubicle and laid down.  My misery turned into depression and the quickest remedy was sleep.  After a while of restlessness, I had to get up.  I put my headphones around my neck and grabbed my MP3 player, only to realize I had left it on and the battery was nearly in the “dead zone”.   I was living a Charlie Brown moment…GOOD GRIEF!!!!

I forced myself to the track and tuned in my new Christmas playlist.  I maxed out the volume, but left my headphone off my ears and around my neck.  I could hear the music comfortably, without bothering the others walking the track.  But then again, my surly mood prevented me from caring if I did bother them.

The air was chilled but comfortable.  I wore my jacket unzipped and a hat to keep my bald spot warm.  I found an apple in my jacket pocket from the “Dirty Spoon Diner” earlier that day and ate it as I walked.  I would have preferred a peanut butter chocolate kiss cookie that Jeannie makes every Christmas, but the apple would have to do.

I walked off my frustration for two hours, until they kicked me off the endless track.  I walked the laps slowly, listening to my new, but old Christmas tunes.  I sang along to the ones I could remember.  They helped to sooth my aching soul from its misery.

The night air was fresh and clear.  There was a faint smell from a distant fireplace.  The South side of the track looks over “Buzzard Gulch”, where the homesteads are only visible by the yard lights.  One stood out brighter than the others.  I stopped and walked up close to the chain link fence to focus through one diamond-shaped hole.  The light was not a single light, but rather many lights in the shape of a Christmas tree.  They were all white and sparkly.  I concentrated my eyes longer and was able to determine that this was indeed someone’s Christmas tree inside the large picture window.  Meanwhile, I was hoping the officer sitting in his pick-up truck 50 yards from me didn’t have his gun aimed at me thinking I was trying to escape.  He would have been right, if he could read my thoughts!  The only problem is…I had already left…I just let my body stay behind to be counted 8 times a day, as my mind transported to that family home Christmas scene.   I cherished the sight of that tree and stopped several more times just to study it.

Except for the lack of snow and the abundant razor wire, it was a perfect Christmas Even night.  The moon was full and it was big in the night sky.  It was bright and crisp as it reflected the Sun from the other side of the Earth.  It was bright enough that they could have turned off our “uber-zillion candle power night lights” and still see our every moves.  The craters in the moon were easy to see without difficulty.  It was an amazing sight to behold.  I can’t remember the last time I saw the moon so big, bright and crisp, as it was that night.

To be continued….

McFreedom