Thoughts From a Prison Cell (11)--True Freedom-- Where He Leads Me, I Will Follow

 6/15/2012--Day 50--Finally at Alderson. 

Ten days earlier...

When I left from ACJ, I wasn't sure where I was going or how I was getting there. (God knew.) Melissa, Vicki, and I were called together. Because Missy thought she was going back to Alderson, and Vicki was going to Hazelton, I assumed I was going to Alderson on June 5th. When we got to the airport, however, Vicki and Missy went on the bus to Hazelton (West Virginia--but not a Camp--Hazelton is a medium-security facility that houses men and women. Many women come from Hazelton to Alderson once their security level points have decreased to a certain number. This happens after doing so much of their time without incident.) A guy named Anthony and I got on the plane to only God knew where. (Where He leads, sometimes I have no choice but to follow, and that's a good thing.)

There were five girls on the 'plane' (I loosely refer to it as such), and the rest were men. I hadn't eaten or drank anything all day because I didn't want to walk to the back of the plane past all the men, nor did I want to try to use the airplane bathroom shackled and handcuffed. 

The boxed lunches were made of some pink meat (called 'mystery meat' or 'pink slime out of a box'), a 'slice of cheese' on two pieces of white bread. These were pre-packaged in a plastic wrap. There was a small bag of pretzels. (I saw these every single time there was a lockdown throughout my prison time. I found out they had a shelf-life of 'forever'. And nobody could ever identify the meat. No thanks, I'm fasting! When one gets to a camp and gets a job in the kitchen, she will find that the great inventory of canned food is years and years beyond its expiration date. Cake mixes, etc. as well.) Most girls opt to buy and fix their food from Commissary consisting of high sugar, high salted, nutritionally deficient options at a cost significantly higher than if found on the outside. Everything is made using one microwave per unit.

'Con-Air' as it is lovingly referred to by inmates everywhere was a decrepit, retired airplane that no passenger in their right mind on the outside would dare set foot on. (It hadn't yet occurred to me that I was going to go through what they refer to as 'diesel therapy'. Apparently, some need to learn that the Feds are in charge, not the inmate. One would suppose this would be saved for those who were the most rebellious. Not so. Diesel therapy is when one is transported from facility to facility all over the U.S. before ever reaching his or her destination. I had read about it happening to Jim Bakker from PTL. Well, praise the Lord for giving me the scenic route to prison. I give no credit to the Feds. He had a plan, and it was good.)

We arrived at the Oklahoma transit facility. It was very professional and clean. I was exhausted and weary, but I was so glad to get out of county jail. Two other gals joined us in a holding cell and then we got processed. A man who worked there asked me where I was going? I thought, "I'm not in the mood for this game. I have no idea; you tell me!" But I said, "I don't have any idea, but I would like to go to Alderson." He said, "Sounds good to me!" Later, I found out from the CO on our pod Alderson was the facility where I had been designated. 

I thought Oklahoma was very boring. I set up my computer system and e-mail. There is a misnomer that inmates in the Federal system have access to the internet. They do not. They have an email system that is operated, controlled, and monitored by the BOP. And it's not free. I set up my pac number and password. (I later found out that Jesse stayed four hours in Oklahoma and went straight on to South Dakota where he never had one visitor because it was so far from home.) In Oklahoma, there was more freedom to move about the pod. I was only locked down at night and for counts. Counts are a way of life throughout the whole prison system more so than  brushing your teeth after meals. Counts happen multiple times throughout the day and usually right on schedule. Counts are when everyone has been called back to their cells (or 'cubes' in the camp) until several guards walk around and count heads (or feet). It may take several attempts because they have to come up with the same number, which one might think would be a simple task...The whole time, they have a bazillion keys jangling from their key chain they wear on their belts. The sound of jangling keys is one thing that will bring back memories of prison for most inmates. 

My bunky was a very sweet young girl who offered me the bottom bunk because I was "older" than her. I thought this was an exceptional kindness shown to me. We got along great, except she was frustrated (as were all my bunkies throughout my four years) because of my snoring. When she couldn't take it any longer, she would yell at me or bang the metal bed posts to make me stop. It wasn't until I got a fan (I went through several at Alderson) that I ran all night to drown out some of my snoring that any of my bunkies or I ever got a good night's sleep.

In Oklahoma, the food was hot, really good, with a lot of salt, pepper, and napkins. You notice simple things! They had an ice machine and you could drink as much water as you wanted all day long. They had several t.v. rooms, but not much more to do other than play board games or read from a few books on a library cart. One day I found a treasure there. I ran back to my cell with R.C. Sproul's The Holiness of God, like someone had given me a million bucks! I didn't get to finish it before leaving. How frustrating is that??? Sorry, I can't go yet, I have got to finish this book. (My next stop on diesel therapy would no doubt be to the Psych Ward.) 

The showers were the size of a phone booth, and we started walking around the pod the last couple of days there just to keep active and pass the enormous amount of free time. The CO's were really nice, but the girls were really hard to connect with. I think it was because it was such a transitional place.

One night we all got called to stand in line and breathe into a machine. I turned to my friend and asked, "What are they doing?" She explained that they were checking for 'hootch'. I said, "What in the world is 'hootch'?" She said it was alcohol. I laughed, "That is the most ridiculous thing I've ever heard of. How would anyone get alcohol in here?" She further explained it was an alcoholic drink made in prison from rotten fruit. (It was usually made in a bag and stored in the floor drains to ferment. I heard girls got really sick from it. I got kind of sick just thinking about it.) Oh, the valueless things I learned in prison!!!

In Oklahoma I talked the guards into letting me keep my tennis shoes (still the ones I had come in with from home). They also issued me a soft shoe pass, which came with a bottom bunk pass, because of my back problems. This was a major blessing that would extend throughout the rest of my time.

The night before I left ACJ my prayer time was filled with joy and love for the Lord praising Him for allowing me the opportunity to experience ACJ. The extent of this spirit of joy-filled praise that came over me was strong and something I have known few times in my life. In my mind, I sang every hymn and worship song I could think of 'loudly'. Next to losing my daughter in 2001, Allegheny County Jail was the worst and one of the best experiences in my life. That night I spent some time in prayer for many of the girls there. The next morning, I was shocked to hear my name called to pack out. 

When they called my name, Kathy hugged me and cried like a baby. The woman who tried to con me walked up to me and told me I should have listened to her, then said, 'I love you'. I didn't know what to make of that. Chrissy and my bunky hugged me. Then the frenzy began.

Many girls swooped in like vultures to get what they could take from my few things before I packed it up. (You couldn't take it with you. Each facility would be like starting all over again. All you could do is opt to send it home or leave it. My dad got boxes of letters, books, and even some clothing from each place I left). I could wear the tennis shoes I came in with, but I had to remove the laces and send them home as well. (I guess for the same reason one couldn't have dental floss in county jail.) Downstairs I stayed in the smelly holding cell for many hours before leaving with the marshals for the airport. 

That night before I was called to leave ACJ, Kathy and I were walking and talking. I was sad for me but happy for her because she was most likely leaving on Thursday. She said I brought her closer to God, and she knew we met for a reason. I had no doubt. She said I was one of the sincerest people she had ever met. That meant more to me than she knew having gone through a trial where 12 members of the jury apparently didn't believe a word I said but believed lies from the government simply because they are the government. It shouldn't have been such a surprise to me. They didn't believe Jesus, either, and He is THE Truth! It still hurt deeply.

Next blog: the rest of the journey to Alderson.

In John 21:18, Jesus said to Peter--Truly, truly I tell you, when you were younger, you used to put on your belt and walk wherever you wanted; but when you grow old, you will stretch out your hands and someone else will put your belt on you, and bring you where you do not want to go. 

Our pastor told the story this past Sunday about the rebellious little girl who was being asked by her parents to sit down. After much stubborn resistance, she sat down only to make known that "while I am sitting down on the outside, I'm still standing on the inside." We laugh at that, because that little girl is inside all of us. 

The desire for freedom in life is in all of us. As we grow up in Christ, we learn that true freedom comes in obedience and submission to His will, not our own. It's not an outward obedience but an obedience from the heart. It's a heart attitude of submission. It doesn't take us long to learn that our spirit is willing but our flesh is weak, and it is a daily battle to crucify it in the strength that is in Christ by the working of His Spirit in us. Though we would not choose the circumstances of our trials, though we would not needlessly expose ourselves to heartache and suffering, we learn that it is best not to rebel against or shrink from those things that are part of His perfect plan for us, even when we cannot understand. We can trust that our Father always knows what is best for us.

True freedom leads to heartfelt humble, submission to the One who set us free. John 8:31-36

If the Son sets you free, you really will be free. Therefore, not my will, but thine be done.