Author: Tony Casson

" For I know the plans I have for you,” says the Lord. “They are plans for good and not for disaster, to give you a future and a hope." (Jeremiah 29:11 NLT)

“Stories Of A Prisoner’s Wife”

On By Tony CassonIn Giving a Voice to the VictimsLeave a comment

By Diane S.                                                                                              5/21/15

Entry Eleven

Felon.

“Judge not, and you will not be judged; condemn not, and you will not be condemned; forgive, and you will be forgiven.”  Luke 6:37

It wasn’t until recently that I realized what a powerful word ‘felon’ was.

I was like most of the rest of population of this country; that word didn’t affect me so I didn’t give it much thought. I was clueless to the power of this word. I was clueless to the stigma of this word. I was clueless to the effect of this word.

I am not as clueless anymore.

I am still very new to this word having an effect on my life. I know that I have much more to learn and I am aware a lot of it will come as painful lessons.

I am now married to a convicted felon. At some point in my life I will be living with an ex-felon (is that even a thing?). An ex-felon? See, I’m still so new to all this. I know that this will affect our lives until we are called home, it won’t be over in 8 years. I do have hope that the hardest part will be over in 8 years, but there will be difficulties well after that. My husband will be one of the more fortunate ones (God willing, meaning I am still alive and well at that point) and he will be coming out of prison to our home. I hope he will be able to find a job of some sort but I am not all that worried about that. I have 8 years to establish myself and get my finances in order so that we will be in a good place and ready to face those challenges. If he can’t find work for a while God will provide at that time. Honestly, I don’t give a lot of thought as to what life will be like in 8 years for an ex-felon because my hope is a lot of things will change by then and things will be better for someone coming out of prison and re-entering society.

Everyone needs hope, even if it is far-fetched.

A lot of people leaving prison have nowhere to go and the government doesn’t care, they are no longer responsible. These people, men and women both, walk out of the prison life they have lived for many years into another prison of sorts. They are free, but what now? What about the ones who have no family or friends? They walk out into their new freedom and into the unknown. I’ve never asked one personally but my guess would be that walking out of prison into a world all alone with nowhere to go is probably more frightening than the day they walked into the prison facility. That’s a total guess on my part, maybe I’m wrong. I would hope I am wrong. Their life won’t be controlled by someone else any longer. They have to figure out where they will live, how they will eat, where they will shower, try to find a job….the list is long of things that felons face once they “have paid their dues” to society in prison. This country does very a POOR job of preparing felons to re-enter the real world. Many articles have been written on this site about this subject.

This is on my mind today because one of our local news stations posted a story on Facebook last night about a woman who has been out of prison for 4 years and can’t find a job because she is a convicted felon. I know there are programs for felons to help them find jobs and I don’t know why this particular woman hasn’t had any luck with those programs. Her story was a bit “woe is me” but it wasn’t the story that caught my interest. It was the 500+ comments on the post that had my attention. It doesn’t take long when reading comments on a post like that to understand just how biased and uninformed the majority of this country is about prisons, laws, sentencing, etc, etc.

VERY UNINFORMED.

The comments from people who quoted a Bible verse to back up their OPINIONS were the worst ones. I always find it difficult to keep my mouth shut when people try to use the Bible as a basis for the hateful things they say and believe. Those folks must not know my Jesus. Many people truly believe that if someone ends up in prison they deserve any hardships that come their way for the rest of their lives. Many people believe in a system that is broken at its very core. Many people don’t believe that prison is a business and the government has more concerns than just “rehabilitating” people when they go to prison.

Many people don’t believe that the Bible says to love prisoners and ex-prisoners. I saw one comment that actually said, “What if they are in prison for doing something to your loved one, would you really want someone to visit them, give them a Bible and tell them about Jesus. The bible doesn’t mean visit those kind or prisoners.” It took a lot of will power to scroll by that comment and not voice my opinion in ALL CAPS! People believe that God can forgive but society doesn’t have to; they wouldn’t want an ex-felon working where they shop.

Gasp! The horror!

I’m trying to remember that most of these opinions are because people are uninformed and have never been directly affected.

I wish I could say that I have always had compassion for felons, that I have always been aware of the all these things. I can’t. I wasn’t. I didn’t care just like so many others because  it didn’t affect my life. I started changing the day I started living my life for Christ, truly doing that, which was about 15 months ago. I was saved when I was 10 but my relationship with Jesus didn’t truly start until January 5, 2014. I started caring more about the hardships others faced, the felons, the starving, the persecuted. I cried at the news of the ISIS terror, my heart hurt for things it never hurt for before. I’m continually baffled by the many people who have a relationship with Jesus but don’t see the problems in this country, let alone across the world.

It’s hard to argue that this country doesn’t have a serious breakdown in the federal justice system. When a blind man can go to prison for accidentally downloading inappropriate photos that HE COULD NOT EVEN SEE there is a problem. The fact that a jury and a judge would send a man like that to prison speaks volumes and really makes me wonder if this is a battle that can ever be overcome. I am so very new to this and all that comes along with being married to a convicted felon. My passions are growing every day for these causes I never knew existed. My heart aches every time I read a news story that hits too close to home. Every time I read a post on this site written by Tony or any of the other guest posters about the hard stuff my heart breaks a bit more.

My life is just beginning to evolve with the new effects of being married to a felon, a sex offender felon at that. People look at me different. People will always look at my husband different. He will always have a difficult time finding a job. We will always have to be conscious of where we go, what we do, where we live and so many other things when he is released in 8.5 years. There will always be things we won’t be able to do and that’s ok, we will survive.

We will be together and we will survive.

I pray this country can change, laws can change, people can change, and a broken system can be fixed.

No single word should have as much power over someone’s life as the word ‘felon’ does

“Stories Of A Prisoner’s Wife”

On By Tony CassonIn Giving a Voice to the VictimsLeave a comment

Entry Ten

by Diane S.

Miss or Missing

The dictionary defines the word MISS as a verb and a noun:

verb

  1. To fail to hit, reach, catch, or otherwise make contact with.
  2. To be too late for or fail to meet
  3. To fail to perceive, experience, or understand.

noun

  1. A failure to hit or make contact with something.
  2. A failure to be successful. The new movie was a miss.
  3. The misfiring of an engine.

The dictionary defines the word MISSING as an adjective meaning

  1. Not present, absent
  2. Lost.
  3. Lacking, wanting

Wow, two words with so many different meanings. Those two words play an important role in my life right now, in all of their various forms and applications. I find these two words in my mind and my prayers often, and in a variety of ways.

Like, I miss my husband. I miss everything about him.

And I miss my old normal. I miss not having a normal.

I miss my two dogs that had to go to new homes. I miss financial security; even though we have never had much of it, now we have none. I have been missing the little ‘bread crumbs’ God gives me every day. Last night I know for a fact that I missed a divine appointment because I out-right disobeyed God when he told me to move my feet and go to a person who was hurting. I miss things my friends need from me because I have been too focused on me and just getting through each day. I miss opportunities to exercise my faith and my trust. I feel like I am missing what God is showing me and telling me.

My list could on for a very long time with the things I seem to be missing right now. If I studied on the things I miss or am missing I could probably send myself into a pretty dark depression for a long while.

I choose not to do that. I choose to pray about them, change what I can and trust God for what I can’t.

I pray that God helps heal my heart and make the pain of missing my husband easier to bear. I pray that God leads me to a new normal that is more fulfilling than my old normal. I trust that God will provide what I need, and pray that He helps me understand and accept the difference between a need and a want.

I pray that God helps me not to miss His ‘bread crumbs’ and the way He shows me He loves me EVERY DAY. He does show us all every day and I miss it a lot. I pray God doesn’t let me miss when He tells where He wants me to go and what He wants me to do. I pray I don’t miss the good, there will be good. I pray for my husband. I pray that God doesn’t let him miss the things He puts on his path and the people He places in front of him on this journey. I pray Chris doesn’t miss this time God has put in his life to grow his faith and trust. I pray that he doesn’t miss me as much as I miss him. I pray that our marriage survives, and even thrives if that’s possible (and it is with God).

Today I am praying diligently about a divine appointment I missed last night. I have already asked God to forgive me for disobeying when He told me to move. I volunteered with my church last night at a revival for a local mission. Our church worship band came out in full and one of our pastors was there to deliver a wonderful message. It was the first time in quite some time that I JOYFULLY praised God. For more months than I can count, I have always ended up in a heap of tears during worship on Sunday mornings. Tears of sadness, tears of sorrow, tears of accepting His plan while not understanding it.

Last night in that tent with people I had never seen, most much less fortunate than me, God showed up BIG and I was able to PRAISE him without tears. We were all just sinners in need of a savior. I am thankful I have already found my savior and I pray for the ones who were in that tent that haven’t made that decision yet. I was thankful, truly thankful to Him and it was just good. It was the most refreshing two hours I’ve had in a very long time and it was needed.

Anyway, back to the divine appointment I missed.

There was a man sitting about 2 feet to my right with no one between us. During the alter call he did not move to go forward, but he raised his hand when the pastor said if you just prayed that prayer and asked Jesus to change you tonight raise your hand so people around you can pray for/with you. He was in tears and I KNEW God was telling me to go pray with him, no one else was around him. Shamefully I did not. I didn’t move. I was supposed to move and I didn’t. Too many doubts about what would I say, would He accept me to pray with him…etc, etc, etc. I am NOT PROUD that I didn’t listen, but I do recognize it. I’m not sure I have ever been able to recognize it before, so that is something, I suppose.

I wish I could go back and pray with that man. I hope the next time I am at the mission I see that man and I can go ask him how he has been and if I can pray with. Right now, because I missed the appointment God set for me all I can do is pray for the man in the red shirt with the black eye and scrapes on his forehead. I pray that his prayer was sincere. I pray that Jesus did come into his heart and I pray that his life was changed last night. I pray in the coming days and weeks he remembers exactly what last night felt like when he is tempted by old ways (whatever they may be).  I pray that God sets him a divine appointment with someone who will listen to God’s guidance and will pray with that man.

I’ve come to find out that even with all the things I seem to be missing these days, most of them I can change myself. I just have to do it and recognizing them is the first step. I don’t think I’ve ever been as attentive to recognizing things as I have been in the last few weeks. I can change a lot of things by just becoming more aware of God’s presence and listening for Him more.

I can’t change that I miss my husband; I can only pray that God helps me find a way to deal with that and makes the pain more bearable. I can’t change how my husband handles his relationship in Christ or if he misses the things God is trying to show him, but I can pray about it and I do diligently. I can’t change and go back to the old life I say I miss. Really I am not sure I would want to anyway.

Growing with Jesus is a much better place to be.

I’m not sure missing things is really all that bad as long as you are willing to recognize them, pray about them and learn from them. It seems a lot of things I am missing or have missed have led me on a path to find things in my heart I may not have found otherwise.

The message last night touched on the story of the blind man in Luke 18:35 and our pastor summed it up in a very good way I thought. That man was blind and couldn’t see a thing but when Jesus called him he threw off his cloak and ran to Jesus. He didn’t know what would happen, he had no way to find his way back to any possessions he may have left with his cloak, he didn’t know what was between him and Jesus that he could trip over that might cause him to fall down. He didn’t care. He ran to Jesus because he knew that being with Jesus was better than where he was.

I can’t even imagine how many things I wouldn’t miss if I could be more like that blind man and trust Jesus so completely and entirely that when He calls I would go running to Him giving no thought to what might happen.

I have a feeling I wouldn’t miss very much at all if I could be more like that blind man.

“Stories Of A Prisoner’s Wife”

On By Tony CassonIn Giving a Voice to the VictimsLeave a comment

by Diane S.

Entry Nine

5.19.15

Okay…maybe even good.

I know our journey is just beginning and I am in no kind of way an expert about any of this. All I know thus far is the experience I have had. I’m sure this journey is different for everyone. None are the same, I wouldn’t think. I know there are people who have been through it who DO understand but I would also guess that no two people ever process this sort of thing the same way. In one way or another there are differences, even though they may be very small ones. I talked to one person that said it took a long while before they found themselves laughing again. I laughed yesterday.

So like I said although the journey is similar, it’s so very different for each and every one affected by incarceration.

Today has been an okay day. It may actually be a good day. It’s not over yet so I am not sure how it will end up, but for now it looks alright. What I do know is that it’s after 2 pm in the afternoon and I haven’t cried all day. That hasn’t happened in the last 18 days, maybe longer, but I know for sure the last 18.

I may still have eyeliner on by the end of the work day, but I don’t want to get ahead of myself.

I talked to my husband last night and I didn’t cry (another first). His day yesterday was filled with rain. He didn’t even go to lunch because he didn’t want to get wet. So he just hung around all day in his unit and snacked on the SEVEN large bags of chips he accidentally got from the commissary last week. He didn’t realize he was getting large bags, he thought they were small so now he has a good supply of chips. I found that a bit funny.

They (it’s always they when he talks about what he did that day, never I or me) were watching a St. Louis Cardinals game and it was good game, he had to tear himself away to call me. Gee thanks, ha! At least I know his love for the Cards is still flourishing and as a rule no one interrupts game time so I feel special. He always says his day was “good”. I don’t know if it actually was good or if he just doesn’t want to say anything else and make me worry. In any case, he always seems to sound good when I talk to him so I think his days are at least okay…maybe even ‘good.’

I don’t know why one day, well one hour usually, can be so vastly different than the one before or after it. I haven’t talked to my husband yet today. I haven’t had any news that would make this day better than yesterday (which was a very up and down day). Nothing to speak of has made today any better than the last 18, so there isn’t a clear reason as to why my eyeliner is still intact. I guess sometimes it just happens that way? The more probable reason is that I may be doing a little better with trusting God today and that has made this day okay.

It could also be because I found a ‘bread crumb’ today and didn’t overlook it. I think I have been over looking them lately. But today I noticed. God gave me his grace today when I got a text from a person who has caused quite a bit of heartache through this process. Unsupportive family is a very hard thing for me to deal with but I don’t fault them for it. I understand not everyone can accept this situation and be supportive. It’s still hard for me but as long as they aren’t out-right mean about it I tend to be able to deal reasonably well. Another thing entirely is to be mean-spirited and unsupportive. I will be the first to admit I have not been gracious at all when it comes to dealing with those types of encounters.

I’ve prayed a lot about it.

Today God gave me His grace and I was able to have a pleasant text exchange with a person I haven’t spoken pleasantly with in over 18 months. In fact, some of the exchanges in the last 18 months were out-right awful, and I take the weight of that. No matter what the other person was saying, I should have handled the situation with grace and a Christ like attitude and I did not. I should have prayed about the relationship but I didn’t, until recently. Today I, well we (God & I), did much better with this encounter. I was able to let the past go and I was able to give needed information when asked. I was able to put things aside because I know that my husband needed this relationship to at least be one that could co-exist in my world. I suspect when my husband receives a letter or call from this person it will lift his spirits immensely, and I think that is why I was able to let God guide me during that encounter today.

I’m finding it’s getting easier to let go of things that I have held on to: past hurts, past anger, past grudges. They just don’t seem to have a place anymore. God is working on my heart already and it’s just 14 days into this journey. I feel it and I know it. I wish He hadn’t chosen this exact path to get my attention so clearly and make me give it all to Him, but I am thankful none the less.

It’s not my ideal journey but His plan is better. I trust that. I can’t wait to see what He will do with me in the next 8 years since I am already seeing so much in just 14 days. Every day my eyes and my heart seem to notice a little more.  There will be good from this, and today I feel like I have seen a few glimpses of it. I’m glad I didn’t miss it.

So for right now, today is okay…maybe even good.

Oh and by the way, in a previous post I said it didn’t look it was God’s plan for me to be able to go see my husband this coming up weekend (Memorial Day Weekend). I should know by now not to assume I know what God’s plan is….I will be visiting this week. I’m blessed and things have falling into place this week.

All I can say is…BUT GOD!

“Stories Of A Prisoner’s Wife”

On By Tony CassonIn Giving a Voice to the Victims2 Comments

A Note From Tony: Apologies are in order, because I posted #8 before #7.

Entry Seven

Shaky.

“May the God of hope fill you with all joy and peace as you trust in him, so that you may overflow with hope by the power of the Holy Spirit.”  Romans 15:13

I have  never liked roller coasters – real ones or emotional ones. They aren’t my favorite.

Lately my entire life is one big emotional roller coaster, the scary kind. The kind that is the oldest roller coaster in the amusement park and is made of wood. The one you can see the sides shaking and creaking as you slowly climb the biggest hill to the top for the most exhilarating ride down the other side. The whole way up you are scared because you feel at any moment an old piece of wood could give way and the whole thing will fall down in one heaping mess and you’d probably get splinters too.

That’s my life. That has been my life for 17 months, with the last 13 days being the longest valley in the history of any roller coaster ever. Even on an okay day that has more good hours than bad ones I am apprehensive of when the wood will give way and I will be in a heaping mess of tears. It happens often and without warning: in stores, at work, in the car. I could be doing ok and then BAM, one piece of wood goes and I’m a hot mess (Sorry, my southern is showing).

I’ve been told a lot in the last two weeks I am strong. No, I’m weak. Jesus is strong and HE gives me strength. I’ve been told a lot in the last two weeks that my faith is inspiring. Maybe, but it’s only because Jesus gives me that faith in order to glorify Him. I ask God for strength and faith every day, multiple times. I’ve heard that others are saying those kinds of prayers for me too and I am so very grateful for each one. Yet, I’m on some very shaky ground here. The only thing solid to plant my feet on is God, and sometimes I get upset with him and then there is nothing to plant my feet on. I have to come back from being upset with God very quickly because if I stay upset with God then what do I have?

Nothing.

I have been reading some books by a wonderful lady named Carol Kent. She is in ministry as is her husband and they have been for quite some time. They found themselves in an unthinkable circumstance a few years ago as they got a call that their only son was in prison accused of murder. He is now serving a life sentence with no possibility of parole. She has written 3 books, all after her son’s incarceration and they are immensely helpful. This is an excerpt from one her books that resonated with me when I read it six months ago, and it still does today:

“Lord, where would I go if I turned away from You? If I didn’t have You, I would have nothing. I have nowhere to turn, so while I’m pounding Your chest with my hurt, pain and anger, please know that I am still facing You, still leaning into the warmth of Your embrace, not sure I can trust You, but knowing You are all I have left. If I left You, I would be completely aimless and lost. So while I feel devastated by what You have allowed to happen, I still cannot resist pressing into the comfort of Your strong arms. I am angry that I am not resisting You more, because I know You could have stopped this from happening, but I have nowhere else to go.”  Carol Kent; “Laying My Isaac Down”

I love those words from her. I read them often. It gives me comfort that I am not the only one feeling that way. People tell me to take it day by day, I’m more at the hour by hour stage for the time being. It’s more manageable that way. I have good hours and bad hours every day, sometimes I just go minute to minute. My prayer usually sounds something like this in a desperate time, “God please help me to trust you for the next 5 minutes, and if I make it through those then we will work on the next 5 minutes”

Literally minute by minute is the only way I get by sometimes.

Shaky ground. Shaky trust. Shaky Faith. Shaky emotions. Basically, just a shaky life right now.

I am not always strong in my faith, it’s shaky and messy sometimes. But I can say I always come back to Jesus’ embrace and the shakiness doesn’t last long. It’s 11:15 am and I am feeling pretty solid in my faith right now.

At 7am this morning, it was as shaky as ever. I wrote my husband a letter around that time and I have since thrown it away and re-written it. I refuse to let the enemy win me over and actually get me to send out a letter that will cause my husband pain when it isn’t what I really mean or want to say. (See my previous post about how writing is better for me because I can re-write hurtful things I say after I am over the mood I was in when I said them)

I’m learning more every day that the enemy finds your most shaky spot and then whispers lies over and over until you are almost face down on the ground. That is where I was this morning. The good thing is that before he gets me face down on the ground, he knocks me to my knees….and that is when I can regain solid ground. I’m finding I’m much stronger on my knees than standing. I’m also stronger when God is carrying me, pulling me or pushing me (whatever he has to do to make me move in the direction of His will), standing on my own two feet serves me no good right now.

I have times when I am angry too.

Angry at God (they are getting less and less these days), angry at my husband (getting better too), sometimes just angry at nothing and everything at the same time. Those are the times when trust is hard, when trusting His plan seems next to impossible. It’s just so difficult to accept something you can’t understand. It’s also difficult to trust God to provide for your needs and be able to tell those needs from your wants. I WANTED very much to be able to go visit my husband this coming weekend, however it looks like that isn’t a need and that doesn’t seem to be God’s plan. THAT is difficult for me and if I am not careful it puts my faith and trust in a shaky position.

So I just pray…I pray A LOT. Prayer brings me back from that shaky wood roller coaster and puts me back on solid ground. Even if the solid ground is a very tiny piece of property it’s God’s property and it’s all I need most times to turn the shakiness into steadiness in His grace.

I’d like to add one other thing here, not pertaining to this entry but because it’s been gnawing at my mind for a few days. These are posted under “Giving a Voice to the Victims”. I don’t want anyone reading to misunderstand and think that I consider myself a victim or that I would ever compare my struggles to that of true victims of horrible crimes. I do know the difference and I would never say I am victim. I am a victim of circumstances beyond my control, I am a victim of someone else’s decisions and actions. My step-son, my mother-in-law, and myself are all victims of circumstance we had no control over, not victims of any crime or abuse.  So please, when you read “Giving a Voice to the Victims” please know I view that term loosely and I have never really seen myself as a victim. I think it’s just a good place to put the blogs in a technical sense.

Another Note From Tony: First, let me just say that this woman’s honesty should provide us all with motivation to examine our own lives and our own circumstances and to see how our relationship with God figures in how we manage those lives and circumstances. Every time I read something she writes, I am encouraged. Saddened at times, and certainly often on the verge of tears for her, but encouraged also by her reliance upon God for strength.

Secondly, let me point out that Diane and I exchanged emails regarding the very last paragraph. I had convinced her to allow me to remove it since all of the individuals mentioned, including herself, are victims of the crime committed by Chris. I feel very strongly about that, but then…..this is her story, and His story, and their story. After careful consideration, I decided to leave it as written.

So here is the challenge: Help me come up with a new category under which to post all of Diane’s thoughts and make them uniquely hers. “The Prisoner’s Wife”, perhaps? “In A Prison Of Pain”, maybe? Email your suggestions to me at tonydc14@outlook.com and I will re-categorize all of the articles already posted and post all future ones that way.

Thank you all, God bless you, and please continue to show your support for Diane by reading and commenting.

 

 

 

“Stories Of A Prisoner’s Wife”

On By Tony CassonIn Giving a Voice to the VictimsLeave a comment

Entry Eight

Worry.

“Therefore do not worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will worry about itself. Each day has enough trouble of its own.”  Matthew 6:34

The mind is a very interesting and conflicted part of a human being. I’m convinced the only thing more interesting and conflicted would be the heart. In my experience my heart and my mind don’t always work together very well. My heart often feels things that my mind over-thinks into oblivion.

I am a worrier by nature.

I’m not sure if it’s possible to inherit something like that, but if it is possible I am convinced I did. When my little brother was about 5 he gave my dad an oblong shaped flat pebble type rock that was about an inch wide and a couple of inches long. My dad called it his “worry rock”. When my dad passed about 5 years later I found that rock in the contents of his pants pocket and he had rubbed his worries on that rock so often that he had rubbed an indention with his thumb.

I wish I still had that rock, it would come in handy these days for me.

In my case, silence leaves the door wide open for worries, heartache and over thinking. I write letters to my husband every day. Those letters contain a lot of the things I am feeling about this entire situation. It’s kind of like talking to a wall right now; there aren’t any responses. He said he has written me every day but because he didn’t get out of the S.H.U. until last Wednesday and wasn’t able to buy stamps until Thursday I haven’t received a letter from him yet. He calls, daily so far, but we can’t get into a very deep discussion about feelings in the short time he has on the phone. Plus, deep discussions about feelings make me cry and it’s pointless to cry during the few minutes of voice time we have each day.

So I worry.

Do you know what worry does? It takes away joy and peace. It doesn’t stop any of the bad stuff from happening; it just stops you from enjoying the good stuff today. It’s like rocking in a rocking chair: You are always moving but never going anywhere.

I worry about how he is feeling. I worry about our future together. I worry if he has decided it would be easier to not have anyone on the outside to worry about…or if he even worries about me at all.

Does he think about me all day like I do him? Does he miss me? And I worry why he doesn’t miss me if he doesn’t (In reality I know he does, but I get lost in those dumb worries sometimes). I worry he will forget about me (Again, I know that isn’t going to happen). His life seems to be moving on with a new normal (not one he would have chosen) and it’s not a life I am involved in. I worry that one day I may become nothing more than just the person who puts money on his commissary account.

Will his new life become so busy (if prison life can be that busy) that the phone calls and letters will stop? I worry about everything, even stuff I seem to make up (like the things above that in reality I know would never happen). I worry about scenarios that “might” happen or could happen.

It is maddening.

I know he loves me, or he did when he entered the facility 13 days ago. How does he feel now? The same? Different?

I worry. I worry all the time and if I am not worrying I feel guilty that I am not, so I find something to worry about.

I know that isn’t the definition of crazy but it should be.

Now, much of what is written above isn’t at all fair to my husband. It makes him sound bad and like he hasn’t done what he should to make sure his wife knows she is loved. That’s not true, he has. I can’t imagine how hard it is to love someone like me who worries the way I do, it has to be a challenge.  Everything I mentioned above is just my mind over thinking and excessively worrying about things that actually don’t even exist. I know he loves me fiercely. I also know that it will kill him to read what I wrote above and know I am thinking things like that in the dark parts of my mind. One of the best things about “us”, is that I am the worrier and he can talk me down. He is very good at it. And I miss that.

That’s why my worries are having a field day right now, because he isn’t here to talk me down from them.

So why the doubts and the questions?

Satan, that’s why and I know that. My mind is no good for me. The devil can plant himself in there with all that worry and doubt and make me a basket case in a quick minute. He can have me doubting the most absolute things I know to be true about God and my husband quickly. Worry is one of my biggest problems that I need to overcome. It is a wedge between me and Jesus.

I know this but I struggle.

Eventually we will find a good routine for communication and it will quell the worries that run rampant right now. I will start getting letters from him and I will feel more connected being able to see his feelings and know more about his daily life. There will be visits where I can see him face to face and see his feelings and emotions. It will get easier, I know that.

But goodness, I never anticipated the struggle of the transition.

It’s never easy to pour your heart out to someone with no response and it feels like that’s what I have been doing for 13 days now. I know the response will come, but I am not patient and in the meantime my mind loves to worry.

I’m trying to learn to put the worry to rest, it’s a very long learning process for me. I fail more often than I succeed, so I just keep trying and repeating my life-verse over and over when the worries are overwhelming:

“Do not be anxious about anything, but in every situation, by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, present your requests to God. 7 And the peace of God, which transcends all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus.”        Philippians 4:6-7

 

“Stories Of A Prisoner’s Wife”

On By Tony CassonIn Giving a Voice to the VictimsLeave a comment

Entry Six

by Diane S.

Same.

I’m sure you have all heard the saying, “The more things change, the more they stay the same” at least once in your life, probably many times. I don’t think I really understood the full magnitude of the meaning until recently.

Everything is the same, but everything is different. Except God. He is the one constant. Jesus Christ is the same yesterday and today and forever. Hebrews 13:8

I still get up every day. I let my 2 dogs out. I get ready for work. I drive to the same office and do the same job. I come home. Take care of my 2 dogs. Do whatever other little small things come along that particular day. I go to bed every night. Things are the same, except they aren’t at all.

I do it all alone.

I don’t wake up in the same bed as my husband. I can’t ask him to let the 4 dogs out for me. I don’t get to talk to him on my way to work. I don’t get to talk to him during the day or meet him for lunch occasionally. I don’t go home to cook him dinner. I can’t ask him to feed the 4 dogs for me. I don’t make him a night snack of stove top popcorn. I go to bed alone with 2 dogs instead of 4.

I hear the same songs on the radio, some of his favorites. They are the same and I still like them like I always have but I don’t sing along anymore. They aren’t as enjoyable to hear anymore without him there dancing silly or singing along. I don’t turn on our favorite songs in the car and turn it up loud and roll the windows down. I haven’t listened to a Christian rap song in 2 weeks, those are our favorites and for now I can’t take that change. Whenever I do get to the point that I want to listen to them again the songs themselves will be the same but everything else will be different.

It’s only been 10 days and my life has changed drastically, yet so many things are the same in a lot of ways. I pray, but my prayers are very different. I eat, but not often or much. I sleep, but not well or restful. I work, but I am unfocused.

Thankfully I do get to talk to him on the phone now. This morning he called on my way to work, it felt the same as in the past except it’s not. The phone call is preceded by a recording reminding me this call is from an inmate at a Federal Prison (just in case I may forget I, suppose). It reminds me at least 1-2 more times during the call depending on how long we talk. The phone call is brief, not 30-45 minutes like they used to be.   A quick call to say I love you and have a good day, he has to be mindful of the minutes he uses. I am thankful to hear his voice, no matter how brief. He dials the same number he always has but everything else has changed.

It’s all changed but it’s all so much the same.

The one thing that is the same, that hasn’t changed and that will never change is God. There are no words to describe how grateful I am to have a God wh0 doesn’t change. It’s comforting to know that no matter what else happens in my life, especially the next 8 years, God is in control. He doesn’t make mistakes. He is sovereign, His love is unconditional. One of the most comforting things that I know to be true about my God is that He loves Chris even more than I love Chris. I cling to that truth and remind myself of it daily. It is hard to imagine He loves him more because I know how much I love him. It gives me great comfort to know that He loves him more and no matter what that will always be the same and never change.

“Every good gift and every perfect gift is from above, coming down from the Father of lights with whom there is no variation or shadow due to change.”  James 1:17

A WITNESS by George

On By Tony CassonIn WITNESS1 Comment

Death has been on my mind recently. A lot. And though Easter – the Christian celebration of Jesus Christ rising from the dead – has just passed, my mind keeps returning to death, to winter, and not to resurrection, to rebirth, to spring. Why do I feel the need to write about death, especially from inside prison?

This is my first blog post of 2015. January through March was a particularly gloomy time for me. Some of it was due to endless overcast days filled with chilly Louisiana temperatures and rain. Lots of rain. Some had to do with a prevailing feeling of loneliness. The winter was bleak.

I tried to force writing topics: New Year resolutions, finding hope in spite of being in Oakdale, blah, blah, blah – some way to launch 2015 in a positive and uplifting manner. However, all of my attempts felt Pollyanna-esque at best. So instead of veiling myself in false enthusiasm, I decided to cocoon myself in despondent introspection until my soul was ready to change seasons.

During this time, death struck. Fellow inmates, whose friendships now rank as dear as family, have lost loved ones on the outside. Aunts, grandmas, mothers have passed, carving emotional holes in my friends that are difficult to fill while incarcerated. There is no attending a wake, funeral, or burial service. Mourning or celebrating the deceased’s life in the community of loved ones is not an option. Given our current technology, it would be easier for an astronaut in the space station to be present via satellite than it would be for an inmate.

Prison is exile.

Diagnoses of cancer, diabetes, heart disease, or serious accidents are a death knell for the exiles. The haunting proclamation of mankind’s mortality cannot be ignored forever, though we all live our lives as if that bell will never toll. I’ve seen grown men collapse to their knees on the sidewalk from overwhelming grief after receiving such news from home.

Death becomes even more difficult to deal with when a fellow inmate dies of natural causes in his bunk. Life’s fragility becomes the spectre in the room who must be addressed. It is a cold, hard-hitting, unremorseful reminder to those of us locked away from our families, friends, and freedom that begs the question: could I be next?

Peter Becker died in his bunk on February 28, 2015. His sudden death highlighted the loneliness and abandonment of prison for me. For as many friends as I have made at Oakdale, and the many more that Pete had here, at the end of the day, or at any moment for that matter, it simply comes down to me and my maker. That truth is my spectre.

“He was a really good guy,” a close friend remarked in the hours after Pete’s passing. And then after a contemplative silence, “Prison is no place to die.”

I agreed on the surface. Pete was a good guy: curmudgeonly kind, loyal, charitable, good-humored with a wicked wit, and a proud father and grandpa. But “prison is no place to die” dug below that surface. It dug down into my psyche; seeping into my cocoon, feeding my gloom.

Prison is such a removal from real life that death, a reality in the free world, seems surreal here. Prison is supposed to be a place where you walk out the door after serving your time, not a place where you’re carried out in a body bag before your time. That dissonant chord struck me so profoundly that I was forced to seek a resolution to the question – why death here?

The month of March passed, and I still had no answer. Though unresolved, I am a realist. I know no one lives forever, and any breath could be one’s last. However, I felt the need to proclaim to the world, the universe, that “prison is no place to die” – for anyone! But a proclamation wasn’t what I was looking for, and proclamations from prison are not often heard.

In a moment of clarity, with Easter closing in, I realized I was seeking redemption as the answer. Pete’s redemption. More specifically, I was seeking his public redemption as a convicted felon. In a very real way Pete died twice, and I wanted to know where was his second chance – his shot at redemption?

Coming to prison is a form of death; a first death. The death of a life as one knew it. It is a painful, often times slow and very public suffocation of every aspect of life: financial, professional, personal, and familial. And in that dying, one passes from a known realm into one of the unknown – the Federal Bureau of Prisons (BOP).

Life here is an existence of bureaucratic illogic, which for those who deal with bureaucracy often, the word “illogic” is indeed redundant. To emerge from prison “rehabilitated” is to have personally tamed or exorcised the demons of one’s past in spite of the BOP staff’s best attempts to assist, or derail (depending on one’s level of cynicism), with federally mandated “re-entry” programs.

Programming boxes get checked, not because staff is concerned about the quality of the program offered or the proficiency of the inmate instructor or the inmate student, but because if boxes aren’t checked, staff get in trouble themselves by not having their supervisors check off their own personal performance boxes. BOP boxes must be checked. A checked box is the goal, not actual rehabilitation.

This is the realm, the life we live in prison, where Pete’s second death occurred. A death that was much more finite than the first metaphorical death he was subjected to by the prosecution’s path to prison. “Prison is no place to die” because the opportunity for public redemption is trumped by that death.

Where does one find the hope of spring when winter provides no glimpse of renewal?

Looking out of my cell’s window at April’s green grass and clover, the robin egg-blue sky, and feeling the sun’s warmth streaming in, I now see a ray of hope, a nod toward redemption as exampled in Pete’s incarcerated life; the life between his two deaths.

His redemption was witnessed by those of us who knew him as the man better because of his conviction to life rather than the man lessened by his conviction to prison. How I wish he could have been his own witness to the free world; that he had lived to reunite with his daughter and son, and taken his grandkids fishing – something he longed to do. He had turned the page on his past, and I witnessed a redeemed man. I’m sorry that more “outside” people – his family, friends, and the community at large – couldn’t have been a witness to that too.

Ultimately, maybe redemption isn’t a matter of how many people witness it. The fact that it was witnessed by those who were living the life alongside Pete may be evidence enough. And as a witness, maybe my testimony via this blog to those of you who have your freedom may lead you toward a path of understanding. An understanding which could shake off a winter of cold-heartedness and blossom a springtime of forgiveness and offered redemption.

I’m looking out my window again, and the medical team is speedily pushing a trauma gurney across the compound yard toward medical. On it an unconscious inmate is frantically receiving CPR. The struggle between life and death, even on this glorious spring day, continues inside the razor wire of Oakdale, as it does every second across the globe.

I hope there are testimonies of redemption for us all. Maybe it is time to break out of our cocoons and witness. Witness the opportunity for and the power of a second chance.

[Click here to read Tony Casson’s touching witness to Peter Becker, with whom Tony shared a cell while at Oakdale FCI.]

A Note From Tony: I was happy to wake up this morning and see this post by George from Oakdale FCI. George writes them and mails them to my ‘other’ Diane (still the original and best!), who types them and posts them for me (us).

Even when individuals are attempting to be constructive and live redemptive, introspective, and productive lives, our government, in its infinite wisdom, does not allow interaction between men in prison and those on supervised release.  I am grateful to Diane for her continuing support of those who are incarcerated, and of yours truly.

This post, while beautifully written and profoundly touching in its honesty, definitely shows a negative side to prison life which I would like to address. As Diane S. (my new, OTHER Diane!) struggles with adjusting to being an inmate’s wife, she cannot be shielded from the fact that these emotions do exist inside the confines of the prison environment.

That is not to say that life there is always mournful, morose, or melancholy, but it certainly can be a difficult place at times. There are times of laughter as well, and it is the rare individual who spends their entire time in prison living in a world of sadness, depression, or negativity. I know that George is, by nature, an upbeat and positive person, and from what Diane S. has written, so is her husband Chris. These men will deal with the ups and downs of prison life but will create more ups than downs.

I hope they find each other and get to know each other. George lives in my old housing unit, Allen.

George, thanks for writing so well. You honor these pages. Diane #1, you ARE still #1, and Diane S., you have my utmost respect and admiration.

“Stories Of A Prisoner’s Wife”

On By Tony CassonIn Giving a Voice to the VictimsLeave a comment

Entry Five

5.13.15

Stuff

It’s odd to me how much I have lost interest in material “stuff” in the last 17 months. It really doesn’t matter much now. I don’t have to have the latest and greatest of anything anymore. I don’t keep up with the latest release of the newest smart phone as I once did. I don’t drive down the street wishing I had a different newer car like I used to. As far as “stuff” goes, things have become much simpler for me. It just doesn’t seem to matter; there are far more important things than “stuff”.

However, I do still have A LOT of stuff.

I don’t know what to do with most of it so it sits in a storage unit until I come up with a plan. I have moved 3 times in the last 5 months. I went from a fully furnished 3 bedroom house full of stuff to living in one bedroom of my mother-in-law’s home and now living in one room at my parents’ home. Maybe that’s why stuff has become less important to me, because I am tired of moving it!!! I’m blessed to have been able to go back home for a while. In this process I had to find new homes for two of our fur-babies. Thankfully I was able to keep two with me. There have been a lot of good-byes in my life in the last couple of weeks. I am blessed because Chris and I don’t have any children together. I prayed for one for a long time and now I am so thankful for unanswered prayers. I have a 12 yr. old step son who lives with his mother, but no children living in our home who have been up-rooted from their daily lives in the midst of all the mess. I am not downplaying the effect this is having on my stepson because it is enormous. I am simply saying that his daily, weekly, and school routine haven’t been affected and for that I am thankful. Everything else in his world has been turned upside down, so I am thankful for things that are still intact in his life. He is still able to come visit and spend weekends with me at this time. I am beyond blessed and thankful for his mother and step-father who have been very compassionate and wonderful.

Anyway, back to the stuff….

I packed up and moved to my parents 3 days after dropping Chris off at his new living quarters for the next 8 years. This means that I had to pack and unpack all my stuff again….and all his stuff. That is NOT easy to do when dealing with a situation like I am going through. What does one do with all his “stuff”? He obviously won’t need it for a good long while and when he does need his stuff again the clothes he had won’t fit and who knows if he will like any of his current stuff in 8.5 years. I have heard of and know of people that have lost loved ones who leave their “stuff” in the exact same spot they left it the last time they used it because it either brought comfort to them or they couldn’t bear the pain of doing anything with because that brings some reality with it. That might have been nice for me to be able to do for a week or two anyway, but I didn’t have that option. Not that I am comparing him going away to prison to death, but I have found there are some similarities. Things had to be moved in my case; his things.

And it was painful.

It was hard knowing that he won’t wear his favorite hat anymore and he doesn’t need cologne. Really silly things in big picture, but I seem to have found that the silly little things are the ones that cause the most epic melt downs for me. Do I keep his stuff for 8.5 years? Do I give it away to friends or family? Donate it? I had not even thought about that part until I got back to TN after dropping him off down in Louisiana and had to start packing. It seemed weird to give it away when he is alive and well.

So I didn’t.

I packed it in boxes for now. Some of it I took with me to my mom’s, like his favorite hat and the necklace he wore every day. They hang beside my bed. I have all his jewelry, some I wear myself every day now, the rest is just in my jewelry box. No particular reason for it to be there, I simply don’t know what else I should do with it. I took two of his favorite colognes because the smell reminds me of him; every few nights or so I spray some on the shirt of his that I sleep with. I took a few of his favorite t-shirts with me also and my mom is going to make pillows out of them for Chris’ mother, his son, and for me. He loved (See what I did there? It should be loves, he isn’t deceased!) to dress in a nice shirt and tie for church on Sunday mornings. I kept his ties with me, they are in a small box in the top of my closet. I figure eventually I will give away the boxes of his clothes I took to storage to the mission here in town, but ties will always fit and ties don’t go out of style. Or do they???

Now, if you had read only the last half of the section above you’d be sure you were reading something written by a young widow who lost her husband to a death of some sort. It’s odd how similar the process seems to be. There is grieving to be sure, but it’s a different kind. There is closure with death. There is no closure with a husband in prison; life goes on with someone missing that one day will return. You have to move on and build a new normal but you have to find ways to include your spouse because you want them to be involved and informed as best they can be in the situation.

I find myself taking pictures so I can send them to him to show him things, like how I hung a picture in my room. It’s still all very weird. I have in no way, shape or form begun to figure out how I will come to a ‘new normal’ in which I can find some joy and make sure my husband is a part of everyday things that go on in my life and his son’s.

So I have decided I’m not going to worry too much about figuring it out. I’m going to let God handle all that and let Him show me how HE will build a new normal that includes my husband as much as possible and still allows me to thrive in Christ and carry out his will while waiting for my husband to return home. The only thing I have figured out at this point is I know this isn’t going to be easy but I know God will always be with us.

He already has our future written and I still don’t know what to do with all this stuff!!

“Stories Of A Prisoner’s Wife”

On By Tony CassonIn Giving a Voice to the Victims1 Comment

(A Note From Tony: As I read this, I made a couple of comments to clarify things Diane said. The words in red are mine, not hers.)

Entry Four

“Never be afraid to trust an unknown future to a known God.”   Corrie Ten Boom

Unknown.

Who would have ever thought a word that has always frightened me would bring so much comfort on a Wednesday at 5:31 PM?

One week and one day since I last spoke to Chris. The phone rang. The caller ID displayed “Unknown”. I started shaking. I knew. I answered and got a recording that this was a pre-paid call from a federal prison. Hang up to deny the call or press 5 to accept the call.

I pressed 5.

His voice. I immediately started crying. Eight days is a very long time to not talk to your husband when you used to talk on the phone multiple times a day. There are no words to describe the relief I felt all through my body when I heard his voice say, “Hi Baby, why are you crying?” It was him, really him, not a shell of him, not a void, hollow voice of a broken man. It was him and he was ok. In his words he was “good”. I called him a liar (jokingly) and he said “No, really I am good. I am ok”.

I think at this point I was crying so much I could hardly talk, I had to compose myself.

All the prayers I had said, all the talking to God I did in the last 8 days came flooding back as prayers answered. He was ok, he wasn’t broken. He has been reading his Bible and found comfort there. He said he had written about some some ‘amazing stuff’ he had read in the letters he has written me but wouldn’t tell me about it. I have to read it for myself he said.

He has been praying a lot. His faith is strong. Praise God. Thank you Jesus for holding him tight, not letting him go and not letting him stray from you.

He sounded good. Chris is by nature an optimistic, happy, positive person. For that reason it is almost impossible for him to hide when he is down and depressed. His voice tells his feelings no matter how hard he tries to hide them, especially to me. To hear him sound so good was like a 1000 lb. weight being lifted from my shoulders. I know there will be many days on this journey that he will not sound good and he will be down, but I am beyond thankful that the first phone call from “unknown” wasn’t that way.

We talked for 13 minutes and 2 seconds. They were the most wonderful 13 minutes and 2 seconds of the last 8 days for me. I was relieved and it felt like I could breathe just a little more than before.

His time in the S.H.U. obviously wasn’t great, but he said it wasn’t that bad. Oddly, another man that self-surrendered on the same day Chris did was from Memphis, TN also and was in the cell with him in the SHU, so he had someone in there with him for those 8 days that he had could have conversations with about common-ground things. Memphis has no lack of drama so I am sure they filled the days just fine talking about what a mess the city they left is. He received all the letters I have been sending and wrote me every day even though he couldn’t mail anything because he didn’t have stamps. I can’t wait to get those letters to see how he was feeling during those 8 days.

One of my biggest concerns was about him eating and he said the food isn’t bad. Of course it’s not my home-made fried chicken, but he is eating and has plenty. There are people in THIS country that can’t say that on a daily basis so I am grateful. If you think about it, prison life in this country is a better life than millions of people around the world have on a daily basis. There is shelter, food, clean clothes, and it’s a reasonably safe environment (at least where he is). However, that’s a topic for another time and probably not on this blog.  (That is a perfect topic for this blog, Diane. Feel free to bring it up anytime.)

By the time he called I believe he had been in the “Vernon” housing unit for an hour or two. He had already met his cell mates, I think they call them “cellies” but I am unsure. (True.) He is in a unit that are 6 man cells. For the first few days I had been praying for him to be put in Allen Unit (That is where I was, and that was my suggestion), but then my prayer changed and I just prayed that God would put him in the best place for him to carry out God’s will and plan (Of course, that was a much better plan.). Chris said all of the men he had met except one were very “cool” with him. He thinks the one that wasn’t was just upset because he would be bunking above him and he doesn’t really like people to bunk above him. As I understand it, at least one of them in his cell is an ‘SO’ also and from what I hear they stick together a bit. I don’t know, I could be wrong. They had already been showing him the ropes, whatever ropes those may be in prison.

I am just thankful he found some people who were kind and not mean. Actually, he said he hadn’t encountered anyone mean. He could just be telling me that so I don’t worry, but it’s likely true. (It most likely is. It had become a friendlier place by the time I left.) It’s very hard for anyone to be mean to Chris, he is just a very likable, nice guy. I worry that will be a detriment to him while in prison and make him an easy target for people to try to take advantage of him. Time will tell, it will remain on my prayer list for a while.

Believe it or not, you can actually cover a lot of ground in 13 minutes and 2 seconds. He called me as he was about to go out to the rec yard to watch an inmate softball game. I thought it was odd that they have softball games there, but it’s cool at the same time. I can only imagine how having interaction with other humans and being able to go out in the sun after 8 days felt for him. I’m sure he enjoyed every minute of it. Another point of worry for me is that in order for him to go to the rec yard he had to have tennis shoes and he only has the boots he was issued. He hasn’t been able to go to the commissary yet so I was confused. He said that one of the guys in his cell let him borrow a pair of shoes. The red flags and sirens that went off in my head were deafening. We have been told SO many times by SO many people that you don’t take help from other inmates. The quickest way to get in a mess in jail is by owing people, and nothing is ever free. People don’t do nice things just to do nice things. I reminded him of this, but really that is all I can do. I can’t control it, I can’t change it and worrying about it isn’t going to do me a bit of good. I just hope he made a good judgement call on that. I will pray about that too for a few days. (While this is true in many instances, once you have been ‘assigned’ to a particular ‘group’, people within that group will provide you with items like shoes to help you get started. It  is generally those outside your group who present a problem. There are actually quite a few who simply know the things you are feeling when first entering and reach out to make you feel more comfortable.)

It was about time to wrap up the conversation, I kept telling that I loved him so much at random times because I know that the phones cut off when you reach your 15 minutes without warning and I wanted to make sure I told him and we didn’t get cut off before I could. THAT was important to me, for him to hear me say that I loved him. There was times before going to prison in which he had a lot of doubts as to whether I would still love him after he went in or if it would be too hard. I needed him to know that it isnt’ going to be too hard for me. I needed him to hear me say that I loved him more yesterday than the day I dropped him off. Every day it’s more because every day Jesus is working on my heart and my marriage even though we are apart.

We said our good-byes and I love you’s and he hung up. I cried through the entire phone call, it’s good that he is stronger than me because his voice only cracked once or twice, and then at the very end. I cried for a good 10 minutes after the phone call. A good cry, a thankful cry. I just kept thanking Jesus for everything. Thanking him that he was ok, that he was eating, that he wasn’t broken, that he sounded so good, that he has been shown some kindness, that he has found comfort in his Bible….I just kept saying thank you.

He called me this morning, twice, for 3 minutes each. He was also able to call his mom today. I get the feeling he is a bit bored today because most everyone is at their assigned jobs and he hasn’t been assigned one. He doesn’t have to be so careful in spreading out his 300 minutes this month because he gets new minutes on the 7th of each month and it’s already the 14th. So he can call a bit more this first month which will be good for everyone while we all transition. At least I think it will be good. It could be bad in the end when next month has to be different.

Our journey will not be easy but it will without a doubt not be as hard as some prison wives’ journeys have been and my heart breaks for them. I will be able to visit my husband fairly regularly (every 4-6 weeks) and we will be able to afford phone calls more than once or twice a week. At least at this present time those things will be able to happen.  I am grateful for that, very grateful for that indeed.

I have much greater sense of peace and calm today. I also have a very real feeling of exhaustion, the kind that when you stand up your legs almost collapse under you. After a long stretch of high anxiety and stress like my last week has been, sometimes once you get a break it seems like your whole being just needs to take a deep breath, if that makes any sense.

So today I have a great peace in my heart and I am beyond thankful, but so very worn.

I do believe the word that used to frighten me will probably become my most favorite word to see on the caller ID in the next 8 years.

I’m learning every day that ‘unknown’ isn’t so scary after all, especially since I know that God is already there and nothing is ‘unknown’ to him.

I love the song “You’re Already There” by Casting Crowns, the lyrics are so comforting:

When I’m lost in the mystery, to You my future is a memory cause You’re already there; You’re already there standing at the end of my life, waiting on the other side; You’re already there, You’re already there. Amen!

Another Annoying Note From Tony: I have put together a little map to help everyone visualize the ‘compound’ a little better. Hope it helps. 🙂

Chris

“Stories Of A Prisoner’s Wife”

On By Tony CassonIn Giving a Voice to the Victims7 Comments

Entry Three

by Diane S.

Words 5.12.15

“Let no corrupting talk come out of your mouths, but only such as is good for building up, as fits the occasion, that it may give grace to those who hear.”  Ephesians 4:29

“In every encounter we either give life or we drain it; there is no neutral exchange.” – Brennan Manning

I like to write words.

It tends to serve me better than speaking them most of the time. People who know me know they are better off texting or emailing me instead of calling me. I also find it easier to speak kinder when I write, because I can think about what I am saying. I’m sure if you added up how many times my mother told me to “think before you speak” when I was growing up it would easily be well over 10,000. I guess I am lucky technology has come such a long way that I can do most of my communicating by writing words. I am trying to get better with speaking and answering phone calls of concerned friends.

I am a work in progress.

Words are funny little things. If you put the right ones together you can lift someone up but if you put the wrong ones together you break someone’s spirit. You can also leave people not knowing how to take the comments you just made. I find that is often the case in my current journey. People don’t know what to say, so they just say anything. I know most are well meaning, but I often have to take a deep breath and make a conscious effort to not be offended.

It is becoming clear to me that the path I will be taking on this journey is not what most people assume the path of a prison wife would be. It seems the general theory is that I will be married yet single for 8 years and it should be great. I will be able to do whatever I want and he will not know, I will not have to answer to him for anything I do or how I spend money. Yes, many people have said that to me. The first few times I was offended, but I’m not anymore. I just remember I am a Christ follower and I am called to be something different.

So I just tell them that isn’t my path, that isn’t something I am interested in. I am not planning this journey and the One who is isn’t interested in how much I can do without having to answer to my husband about it and I am more than ok with that.  It’s odd to me that SO many people think like this. The other fairly common response is “when is the divorce final” or “has he been served papers yet”. They don’t even ask if that is going to be my path they just assume that I am getting divorced because who would stay with a sex offender who is going to spend 8 and 1/2 years in prison?

The really bold ones say things like, “God wouldn’t want or expect you to stay in this marriage.” I find that one more offensive than the others and it always take me a second to calculate my response so my words don’t meet theirs with the same level of toxicity theirs had on me. It’s a challenging encounter and I don’t always do great. I try, but I am human. I am a Christian but I am not perfect. Sometimes those words feel like a knife cutting straight into the center of my heart and it’s just human nature to strike back. I’m getting better. If I could just make everyone talk to me through writing I’m pretty sure I’d have a 100% record at always succeeding at responding eloquently.

I’ve already learned a great deal and this is just the beginning of this chapter of my life. If there is one thing above all others that I have learned thus far it is that the words you use impact people. You have the choice to make that a positive or negative impact. It is hard to make sure your words are always giving life and not draining it. Even when someone speaks draining words to you, it’s your responsibility to speak life back to them. You may be the only breath of life, the only glimpse of the Jesus’ love they get on that particular day so choose your words carefully.

Some days I want to look at people and yell at them “DO YOU KNOW WHAT I AM GOING THROUGH RIGHT NOW?!?” after they speak negative, draining words to me. I haven’t done that yet and I pray I never do, because anyone I would say that too could look right back at me and say the exact same thing. Everyone is going through something and just because theirs may not seem as catastrophic as my husband being in prison for 8 and 1/2 years, to them whatever it is seems every bit as horrible as what I am dealing with. I try to be sympathetic to that and use empathy when I speak and often times that helps me to speak life.

There really is merit to what my mom always told me, “think before you speak.” This holds true for everyone you encounter, but especially for someone you KNOW is going through a difficult struggle. If you don’t know what to say to someone like me, then just say “I’m so sorry you are going through this” or “I will pray for you and your husband.” That is enough. Nothing more is needed and either of those is much more appropriate than a comment about how it’s great that I can be married and single at the same time.

Words from Tony: Unfortunately, the situation that Diane finds herself in repeats itself on a daily basis all over this country. While I was in prison, it seemed that the number of spouses willing to walk this journey with their husbands was greater than I would have expected, although there were plenty who, unlike Diane, actually did back out of the driveway.

I have no condemnation for those who left. I have no negative feelings toward them either. I am filled with sadness for all parties concerned because all have come out of their relationships with less than when they went into them. I could go on and on, but I will not use up Diane’s ‘time’ for that.

That people would think the way Diane indicated they do, and that they would say the things she wrote about kind of stunned me. Perhaps they all should take Diane’s mom’s advice.

The rush of emotions when individuals go through something like what Diane is going through is pretty intense, especially in the beginning. I have several articles from Diane ready to post, so I will be putting them online in relatively quick succession.

She has a lot to say, and I think she says it well.

I pray we will all listen, and learn, from her, and that we offer her our prayers and support.