living in the system

Yesterday (Thursday) our group spent the morning at CCCG talking about a pastoral care book we’ve been reading and also doing our weekly IPR, which I think I explained in last Thursday’s post. I never know quite what to expect out of the IPR time, but it so far seems to be productive, and I end up learning more about the members of my CPE group. It’s been fun getting to know them more and more throughout this process. Afterward, our group went out to lunch together like last week. I hope that becomes part of the Thursday schedule, because it’s nice to be with the group in a setting outside of CPE, and it’s also nice to eat food that isn’t some gross sandwich I made earlier that morning and has been getting smashed in the fridge all day long.

When I got back to Metro, I helped out with a class that one of my group members has been leading. It’s called Bible Literacy, and it’s for women who don’t know how or have trouble reading. The class is designed to use the Bible (both children’s versions and regular translations) as a way to practice and learn reading. We started by playing a version of Bingo that used simple words instead of numbers. Then we took turns reading out of the children’s bible. The women that showed up to that particular class were all pretty good at basic reading, and I had a good time being there with them. I left early, though, because I had promised a woman I would help her make a phone call.

This woman was so grateful that I had remembered her, and when we sat down in the office, she told me a bit about herself before we made the call. She had married a man straight out of high school and had now been married to him for seventeen years. At some point they had financial problems, so they got into the drug business. During the time when she got caught, she told me the drugs and the money had been her husband’s, but as he was an illegal immigrant from Mexico, and she didn’t want him to get deported, she took the full blame and said all the drugs and money were hers. She’s now been in prison for four years, serving her husband’s sentence. Or so she tells me, anyway. We’ve been told so many times that many of the women will lie to get what they need or want, it’s hard to know when to believe stories. I guess I tend to be naïve and assume that everyone is telling the truth, and I believed her.

A few weeks ago, this woman received a letter in the mail from another woman who is now living with this woman’s husband, in this woman’s house. The letter (which she showed me) said that the husband doesn’t love her anymore, and that they would be placing a restraining order on her once she got out of prison. So while this woman is serving her husband’s sentence so he wouldn’t be deported, he has gone off and cheated on her in her own house.

On top of ALL of that, this woman also has ovarian cancer and will be having her fifth surgery since being in prison next week. I don’t know about you, but I really don’t see how things could be any worse for this poor woman. She had already been okayed by both her mental health counselor and one of the head chaplains to call home, and I was more than willing to sit there with her while she did so.

She caught her family at a good time and was able to talk to several of her family members. The whole time she was crying with both happiness and sadness, and when she got off the phone, she could not stop thanking me. I felt I didn’t deserve to be thanked; I was just the one who got to dial the number. But it made me feel so good that I was able to help her reach her family and talk to them. At the end of her phone call it sounded like her family was interested in coming to visit her (the women have Saturday visitation rights), and the woman informed me they had never visited before, so she was ecstatic at the idea that they wanted to see her.

Because of some rule enforced long ago for who knows what reason, the women are not allowed to hug each other, and we’re not allowed to hug them. When the phone call was over and she was thanking me over and over, the woman said she knew she couldn’t hug me, but she would if she could, and as a substitute gesture, she grossed her arms over her heart and said, “This is me hugging you.” I did it back and felt my heart swelling with emotion.

I ran into that woman today as I was getting someone else for a meeting. She gave me a big smile and thanked me again and asked if we could set up another time to talk. I told her that Monday should work out. I look forward to it.

It’s sad how something so simple as a phone call can mean so much to someone. It’s something I have access to whenever I want and therefore take for granted. I hate whenever I have to say no to someone asking for a phone call, but we’re just not allowed to give them left and right. It’s hard to say no, though, because I don’t feel I should be the one taking away that right from someone else, you know? It’s just weird having that power placed in my hands. It’s a part of the prison system, though, and part of being a chaplain there, so I have to accept it. It’s just strange to think about it sometimes, that’s all.