Tag: America’s Culture of Incarceration

“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.

 

“Stories Of A Prisoner’s Wife”

On By Tony CassonIn Giving a Voice to the Victims1 Comment

Entry Two

by Diane S.

The Day

This journey is going to be a long one, we are just beginning.

May 5, 2015 was the hardest day of my life to date, but the 6 days since haven’t been easy. They have been filled with prayer, constant prayer. Prayer for my husband, my step-son, myself, my marriage, my mother-in-law. We had a good bit of information about what was going to happen on this day. We “knew” what to expect but quickly found out that even if you expect it you surely aren’t prepared for it. Nothing can prepare you to say goodbye to your husband for eight and a half years and drive away from a federal prison facility leaving him there.

Nothing.

God was with us, there is no doubt, but the heartache and pain are no joke. That is real raw emotion that I’m not sure anyone could ever be prepared for. We stopped a few blocks from the prison on the side of the road and prayed together and I truly believe that is how we all made it through the next hour.

There isn’t an instruction manual on how one goes about self-surrendering. There are no signs pointing you to the correct door once you arrive, you just kind of guess. We guessed right and were in the right place. My husband, myself, his mother and her sister walked into the institution and were greeted with a friendly, “May I help you?” The gentleman at the desk was nice to us. He told us to have a seat and someone would be out to get him shortly.

True to his word, it wasn’t long and a correctional officer appeared to take him back. He asked about the things we were told he could keep. We thought he could keep a cheap digital watch, but that wasn’t the case so he took it off and handed it to me. He was able to take his Bible, his glasses, his wedding ring, a bookmark, and a piece of paper with 3 phone numbers on it. The officer told us to say our goodbyes. I was first and he took my hand and told me he wanted me last, so I stepped aside to let him say goodbye to his mom and aunt.

Then it was my turn.

I don’t really remember what was said other than “I love you”, over and over. There are no words to describe the pain you feel when you know you are hugging your husband in freedom for the last time for 8 and a half years.

It was time.

They took him away through a metal detector, out a door and down a sidewalk. I watched him all the way until he stepped through the door of what I assume was the intake part of the facility.

And he was gone.

I could see his face right before he stepped through the door and I don’t think he was crying. I sure was, but he looked composed. The officer informed us that if we would wait a little bit he would bring out his clothes and shoes.

Here is the good stuff.

This is when God gave me some desperately needed ‘bread crumbs’ on that day. We sat in the chairs in the lobby waiting, observing. It was a clean place, it looked well kept and it seemed organized. It’s not what I pictured the lobby of a jail to look like. There were windows and much more light than I expected. As we were sitting, there was gentleman standing over to one side of the room. I don’t know who he was or what he was doing there, but I do know that God put him there at that time. He asked us how long he would be there and we said 10 years to which he replied he will do about 8 and a half years (we did know that). He told us he will be fine, just tell him to get busy with church things and education things and the time will pass. Then for no reason I can think of other than it had been a topic of prayer for all of us there that day, this man told us at least we didn’t have to worry about him eating because the food there was pretty good, much better than other prisons.

Now that may seem like a very insignificant thing but it wasn’t for us. We were (still am) concerned about what he will eat, I have never met a more picky eater than my husband so it’s a legitimate concern of mine, probably a silly one all things considered, but still. A few minutes after our conversation ended with that man we were asked to step outside for a few minutes while they did something, maybe a prisoner transfer? Not quite sure.   While we were standing outside a nice lady walked up to the door and it was locked. She asked us what we were waiting on and we told her my husband clothes. She asked his name & we obliged. She said, “Oh, I should have him in a few hours and for a couple of days, don’t you worry about him. He is going to be ok.”

Again, there is only one reason for something like that to happen. God was showing us he was there. It wasn’t long and the officer that took my husband back came out with his clothes in a clear plastic bag. He was getting off work so we all happened to walk to the parking lot and he said to us, “Don’t worry, he is going to be ok. We had a talk, he is going to be ok, I can just tell he’s going to do fine. You don’t have to worry.”   He may say that to everyone he returns belongings to, I really don’t know. However, on that day, it was another ‘bread crumb’.

You probably think that the ride home was unbearable, but it wasn’t.

God gave us a peace in that car for that 2.5 hour ride home. Not one of the three us cried until we were exactly 13 miles from his aunt’s house and ‘God Gave Me You’ came on the radio. That song has always made me think about my husband and it made me cry, but when I looked out the window of the car a random rainbow in the sky made me smile. It was like God put it right there just for me. I’m not saying there weren’t many tears shed later into the night, but that ride home was peaceful. The kind of peace that only comes from Jesus.

A Note From Tony: Amen! I am so encouraged by this woman’s reliance on, and trust in, God. Curiosity got the best of me, so I looked for that song. In case anyone else is curious, I have provided a version of it here. Enjoy.

I have exchanged emails with our guest author and asked her what names I should use. She never even considered that there were no names used. It was not an intentional omission. She simply didn’t think about it until I mentioned it and she has given permission to use first names for now. Her name is Diane. Her husband is Chris.

Women named Diane seem to figure prominently in my life, but this one is not to be confused with the one who has done so much for me through my incarceration, and continuing to this day. I am inclined to think that this ‘new’ Diane will ultimately figure prominently as well as she helps us all to try and understand America’s Culture Of Incarceration from the perspective of the victims of the punishment of the crime, rather than of the crime itself.

This is not to diminish the pain, loss, and suffering of the victims of those crimes, whatever those crimes may be. I have never, ever done that in all the years of “TOC” and I never will. It should, however, be important to society as a whole to examine the effects of this country’s policies and practices on everyone involved and weigh all of those factors when determining our national approach to a solution.

At present, what we have is not a solution. It is an overblown, overgrown industrial enterprise of behemoth proportions which helps no one (except those involved financially) and solves nothing. It doesn’t truly help the victims in most cases. It doesn’t help society at all, really, because the causes are never substantially or effectively addressed. It doesn’t help those who violate society’s laws (which are far too numerous in the first place).

And it most certainly does not help the families of those who have been left behind in any way, shape or form. In many, many cases entire families, and especially spouses, are treated as being equally guilty.

By all means, please leave your comments of encouragement for Diane. In today’s world, far too many women are a lot closer to ‘being’ Diane than we should all be comfortable with.

Lastly, I would like to mention that there is a woman who has followed TOC through the years whose husband was also in federal prison. Many of you may be interested in Kate Mest’s blog. Please visit and offer her encouragement.

 

“Stories Of A Prisoner’s Wife”

On By Tony CassonIn Giving a Voice to the Victims4 Comments

A note from Tony: There are many different victims of crime, whatever the crime may be. Most overlooked, I think, are the families of those who are sent to prison for their crimes, particularly the spouses of those who have failed at freedom. A couple of years ago, while still incarcerated, I started a ‘series’ titled “Giving A Voice To The Victims”. There were a few articles posted that were written by a brave young woman, but then……silence.

Until now.

A couple of weeks ago, a woman emailed me and informed me that her husband was going to be self-surrendering at Oakdale FCI on May 5. He would be beginning a 10 year sentence, and she had stumbled upon these ‘Chronicles’ looking for information on the prison. She wrote to thank me. I was humbled by her kind words and we exchanged several emails containing questions and answers about what could be expected, etc.

Then I had an idea, and I asked her if she would be interested in writing about this situation from her perspective. With that said, enough of my words. Here are hers:

Entry One

by Diane S.

Silence

You know when you aren’t speaking to someone because of some stupid reason or another and eventually you get to the point where you aren’t sure what you are even angry about anymore? Your mind starts wondering what they are thinking about you; what are their feelings about the situation, etc? Over the last week I have come to understand that those feelings can happen even if you aren’t mad at someone, but happen because you can’t communicate with them.   The constant thoughts in my head never stop. I have always been one to play the “what if” and “I wonder” game. It’s exhausting really. It has become down right debilitating this last week.

Tomorrow makes exactly one week since we pulled into the parking lot of the Federal Correctional Institution in Oakdale LA where I left my husband 6+ hours away from our home to serve his 10 year prison sentence.   I have not spoken to or heard from him since 3pm Tuesday, May 5 2015. It’s not unexpected; we knew he would be placed in the S.H.U. (special housing unit) for a few days. I was prepared for 2-3 days, not a week or more.   I have written him a letter every day, most days two letters, and I have no idea if he has received them. I don’t know how he is feeling. I don’t know if he has been as miserable and hurting as I have been. I don’t know if he has found comfort in his Bible as I have. I don’t know if he has felt any comfort from the many prayers being said for him on a daily basis. I don’t know if he spends his days crying or depressed. I know nothing.

And my mind wonders…

My husband is a very positive and optimistic person. Has he already lost that? Has he kept his head up and looked toward God for his strength? Has he opened his Bible? Has he become angry at God? What if this has broken the seemingly unshakable faith he had when he walked into that facility 6 days ago?

I don’t know.

What does it look like in there? Has he been eating (he is a picky eater)? Has he been shown any kindness? Has he found any ‘bread crumbs’ from God, as a dear friend of mine likes to call the small signs of God you find on a daily basis? Is he even looking for them at this point?

The questions never stop and so far there are no answers. There will be answers and I pray for them to come soon. I may go insane if it’s another week or two. I pray he gets to call me tomorrow, exactly one week after entering. I should probably insert right here that he went into prison for a sexual offense; he is a sex offender. I am the wife of a federal inmate ‘SO’.

But I am a proud wife. I am not proud of what he did to get himself there, but I am proud that God is working in our marriage & our hearts and that we still have a marriage. I am proud that we have not given up; that I have not given up. I wanted to, I thought about it, and goodness knows plenty of people have told me to. All I can say is ‘…but God.’   That’s it. He is the only reason I am still married. He is the only reason I want to be married. He is the only reason our marriage is being reconciled and restored.

We started this journey 17 months ago and it hasn’t been easy ‘….but God’. It’s a very odd thing when a wife makes the decision to stay with her husband after he has done something that will land him in a federal prison as sex offender. Details don’t matter to anyone; 90% of them think you’re crazy; 5% pretend to support you and then there is the 5% that truly does love and support you. The best way I have heard it put is from the writer of this blog when he said “I am not as guilty as I seem to be, but I am not as innocent as I’d like to be.” I can’t say it any better. My husband made mistakes. Big ones. Hurtful ones, there is no doubt about that. So that statement is exactly true for me: he is not as guilty as he seems to be but not as innocent as I’d like him to be.

It’s not an easy thing to stand beside a man in my husband’s position. I have lost friends and loved ones. But I have gained friends and brothers and sisters in Christ. It makes me wonder how many wives out there have left their husbands due to peer pressure and that stigma that comes with being a prison wife. How many really wanted to stay but couldn’t deal with the new circumstances in their life that they had no control of bringing into their life?

It’s not an easy choice or an easy road to walk however you decide. I didn’t make my choice, God made my choice. I have spent much time in the last 17 months praying. I always come back to the very same thing, and I mean always, every single time. Even the times when I had my bag packed, my car in reverse and the enemy was jumping up and down with glee thinking he had finally won in ending our marriage. I never backed out of the drive and here is my why: Jesus lived a perfect and sinless life and suffered immensely so that we could be forgiven. So that we could ALL be forgiven. My husband accepted Jesus Christ as his Lord and Savior on January 5, 2014. He is a changed person, truly changed. He asked Jesus to forgive him & it was done. How can I, a woman of flesh, not give that same forgiveness to my husband and allow God to work in our lives? If I could not forgive him then to me it seems like I would be saying I am better than Jesus because he can forgive but I won’t.

(And yes, I do know that you can forgive someone without continuing a relationship with them. I know that is okay & no one would fault me for that, however, that is not where God is leading me).

One of the things that constantly baffles me on this road is how people view sin. I have encountered countless people that think one sin is much worse than another. We are all sinners in need of a savior, period. When I stand before Jesus I will be just as much an equal sinner for the abortion I had when I was 18 as my husband will be for things he has done to put us in this current unthinkable circumstance. We will both be forgiven sinners.

God has some great plans for me, for my husband, and for our marriage. As hard as this is and as hard as it will be, there will be good from this. God doesn’t make mistakes and His plan is always better, even though I am not thrilled with this part of the plan right now and I sure would have chosen differently if I were in control.

The good news is I am not in control, He is and he knows what He is doing.

“In The Image Of God””

On By Tony CassonIn From The Freedom PerspectiveLeave a comment

“So God created man in his own image, in the image of God he created him; male and female he created them.”

(Genesis 1:27 ESV)

The Central Union Mission, in Washington DC has been my home since my release from Oakdale FCI. It has been more than a home, really. It has been where I have attempted to put to use the relationship with God I had developed during my time in prison. Not only is it a place where I feel safe, secure, and stable on a personal level, it is also a place where I feel I can best follow the admonition of Jesus Christ when He said ‘You shall love your neighbor as yourself.’ (Mark 12:31 ESV)

The Mission is in an incredible location about 5 blocks north of the US Capitol. It sits between Union Station a couple of blocks to the east, where there is always a beehive of activity as tourists combine with commuters in a daily flurry of activity, and DC’s version of “Chinatown” which sits a couple of blocks to the west.

In my immature and unwise efforts to escape myself throughout the course of my life, I have lived in many different parts of the country including Maine, New York, California, Texas, and Florida. Those are all popular places to visit and could have been wildly interesting places to live had I not been so wrapped up in my sinful existence of willful disobedience to God and hell-bent on self-destruction. I also ‘lived’ for a little over 4 years in Louisiana, but I really didn’t see much of the state from behind the razor wire at Oakdale FCI.

None of those places is quite like Washington, though. I have been in DC for almost a year now, and an amazing year it has been. When I first arrived here, I spent hours and hours walking around seeing the sights, and there are many, many sights to see here. After all, this is the seat of power in the most powerful country in the world, and a place steeped in historical significance. I was fascinated and wandered almost daily through the streets of the city.

But then life settled in around me, I became more involved in the Mission, and I didn’t venture far from there. I guess I became complacent about my surroundings, but that changed a little bit this morning.

“This morning” was Monday, April 20, and I spent the early part of the day catching up on my Bible reading and devotions, emailing some pictures of volunteers I had taken over the weekend, finishing and posting an article for “The After-Oakdale Chronicles”, and doing my laundry. At around 11 AM, I looked out the window of my room and noticed how beautiful it was on the other side of the glass.

While there was much I wanted to accomplish sitting in front of this computer screen, I felt a ‘nudge’ and put on some shorts and headed towards Union Station. It was there that my eyes began to see things differently. As I took in the sheer enormity of scale of the structure,

Union_Station_Washington_DC_24_Sep_2013

I realized there was something more than a simple walk in store for me.

I turned to the south and headed to the US Capitol, taking care to give God praise for the abundant beauty of the spring that was in full bloom around me. Everywhere I looked, evidence of God’s handiwork was boldly displayed. Even in the city itself, the natural beauty of the world God created was all around me.

But Washington is home to something that speaks more clearly to God’s sovereignty and His power than ‘just’ the natural beauty that abounds. The man-made beauty of the city provides ample testimony to that fact. As I approached the US Capitol,

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I was struck by exactly how much our ability to create comes as a result of those words found in Genesis: “So God created man in his own image, in the image of God he created him; male and female he created them.”

We were created ‘in His own image’, and that not only means that we reflect God’s character, but we reflect His ability to achieve spectacular things. Now mind you, we can not even come close to duplicating God’s ability, but He did give us the gifts that enable the man-made things we see all around us to be possible.

As I turned west on the National Mall, the Washington Monument came into view

Washington Monument

and I was further convinced that it was only by God’s design that we are capable of the things we achieve. If we were not created in His own image, our ability to reflect the creative skills of the Father of all creation – even if only on a very small scale – would not be possible.

As I walked along, I came to the National Art Gallery Sculpture Garden and was drawn to a ‘tree’ that was set apart from the rest. While the rest were all created by the hand of God, this particular tree was made of stainless steel and was created from the mind of a man, and with the hands God gave him. I had seen it before, but it looked particularly splendid sparkling brilliantly in the now-noonday sun.

national-sculpture-garden-7-of-9

I am not an art critic by any means, even though I am often critical of art, but this work struck me as being particularly thoughtful and demonstrative of the artist’s unique talents as given him by God.

I had lunch in a busy café just beyond that shining example of God’s handiwork and then turned north to wander back towards the Mission. I passed the old Farmer’s Insurance Building

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and marveled again at the man-made evidence of God’s existence that surrounds us. Washington is full of beautiful old structures that testify to the fact that these things are possible only because God created us to be like Him. Not to BE Him, but to be LIKE Him.

While we will never be capable of everything that God is capable of, my walk through the streets of Washington found me thanking Him for making us the way we are. If only we would all realize that God is the source of our abilities. If only we would all give praise to God for the talents He gave us, and give Him thanks for creating us to be like Him.

Think about these things when you walk around your community.

Honesty And Truth Are Not Proper Nouns

On By Tony CassonIn UncategorizedLeave a comment

by Tony Casson

“And when the scribes and Pharisees saw Him eating with the tax collectors and sinners, they said to His disciples, ‘How is it that He eats and drinks with tax collectors and sinners? ‘ ” (Mark 2:16 NKJV)

“A good honest and painful sermon.” Samuel Pepys

Honesty and truth can sometimes make us uncomfortable, and the words used to convey them are not always pretty words. In fact, although they are both nouns, neither ‘honesty’ OR ‘truth’ is a proper noun and, when wielded by Nadia Bolz-Weber in her book, “PASTRIX”, they will undoubtedly be viewed as IMPROPER nouns by some. Tertullian was a father of the early church who lived in the late second and early third centuries. He once said, “Veritas Non Crubescit”, which means “The truth does not blush”, and while the truth itself might not blush, the same cannot be said for many who might read this powerful book written by a woman who definitely does not mince her words.

Ms. Bolz-Weber’s picture adorns the front cover of the book and her image alone serves notice to potential readers that the journey they are contemplating is not going to be a mild one. The photo shows a striking woman with short hair and black plastic-framed glasses which lend her an air of intelligence even though her face is partially obscured by the fact she is looking down at her hands at the ends of heavily tattooed arms which are draped over her knees. She is wearing a sleeveless shirt which enables her colorful ‘ink’ to stand out in vivid contrast to the darkness in her clothing and the absence of back-lighting. One of the tattoos which stands out in particular is on her right forearm and depicts Mary Magdalene.

Mary Of Magdala is a good place to begin this ‘book review’ since she was the also the first person to see Jesus Christ after the resurrection. She did not recognize Him until He spoke her name, initially mistaking him for a gardener. In the book, Ms. Boz-Weber suggests that is the case for all of us; that none of us recognizes Him until He calls out to us. I suspect she may be right. Why Mary, though? Why select someone as flawed as she was to give the immense honor and considerable responsibility of telling others about the risen Son of God? Possibly because He was always a friend of sinners, those who were sick, those in need, and those who, like Mary magdalene, were beset by demons.

“PASTRIX” quite effectively takes us into the same places Christ went to do His work. The author plants us right in the midst of dinner at the tax collector’s house, only we are not at dinner, and we are not in Levi’s home. We are at the ‘House For All Sinners And Saints’ in Denver, Colorado, and Nadia Bolz-Weber is its ordained Lutheran pastor and founder. We are not in some pretty crystal cathedral or upper-class mega church. We are in the trenches, right where Jesus Christ went to go to work, and where many people begin their own search for Him. In the pages of “PASTRIX” we become witnesses to many living examples of how to find forgiveness in an unforgiving world; how to find acceptance and love while all around us the meanings of those words seems to have disappeared or have been forgotten; how to reconcile some of the things we read in the Bible with the way our human hearts, and minds, often differ from those things.

Some may think Ms. Bolz-Weber’s use of profanity and earthy colloquialisms are overdone or gratuitous, but if those who are easily offended can grit their teeth while opening their eyes, hearts, and minds to the MESSAGE of this rough-talking, soft-hearted warrior for Christ, the benefits derived from the experience will far outweigh any inconvenience, discomfort, or perceived damage which may be suffered by the reader. Those words which MIGHT offend, far from being gratuitous or unnecessary, actually act as a powerful hammer with which this passionate woman drives her message home.

“PASTRIX” introduces us to several members of the Home For All Sinners And Saints ‘family’, and when we get to know some of them better, I can hear books being closed, along with the minds and hearts of those closing them, but I implore you all to hang on till the powerful, emotional ending before rendering your final verdict. Some will remain unmoved and convinced the journey was a mistake, but there WILL be those who will be ‘on-your-knees’ thankful they read it in its entirety.

I once wrote another ‘book review’ in these Chronicles about a book called ‘not a fan’ by Kyle Idleman in which I warned my readers that the author makes us uncomfortable as we are led on a search of our hearts to see if we are truly committed followers of Jesus Christ, or, simply, cheering fans sitting on the sidelines. In similar fashion, “PASTRIX” makes those who read it uncomfortable as well, and the author’s choice of vocabulary has little to do with it. The REAL discomfort begins as we slowly discover the depth – or perhaps, shallowness is a better word – of our understanding of what Christ did NOT say.

Jesus Christ said, “Follow me.” (Matthew 16:24)
Jesus Christ did NOT say, “Follow me when you feel up to it or have time, or it is not too much trouble.”

Jesus Christ said, “Love thy neighbor.” ((Mark 12:31)
He did NOT say, “Surround yourself with people you are comfortable with, smell nice, and make enough money to suit you, and love only them.”

Christ said, “Do not judge others.” (Luke 6:37)
He did NOT say, “It is alright to look down on others to elevate yourself as long as you go to church with like-minded individuals each Sunday.”

He said, “What you do to others you do to me.” (Matthew 25:40)
He did NOT say, “If you don’t like the way someone looks or smells, treat them with disdain and ignore their pain and I will overlook it when you stand before me in judgment.”

He also said, “Do as I have done to you.” (John 13:15)
Again, Jesus Christ did NOT say, “I treat everyone with love, kindness, mercy and grace, but YOU are free to treat them however badly you wish.”

Jesus Christ was not afraid to rub elbows with the unwashed, the uneducated, or the unhealthy. He loved those He walked and talked with during His time as a man among mankind. Heaven is most assuredly a perfectly beautiful place to see and in which to live the eternal lives we are promised by God, but while the physical appearance of OUR world is breathtakingly beautiful – as it was intended to be when God created it – the sickness, poverty, pain, and the ugliness of sin that afflicts mankind has given us an unbelievable ability to make that beauty here on earth almost impossible to see. “PASTRIX” teaches us lessons that cannot be learned by avoiding, being embarrassed by, or offended by honesty and truth as brought to us by Nadia Bolz-Weber. She helps us to strip away some of that ugliness and see that there is beauty in there. She has been called upon by God to get down in the trenches, roll up her sleeves (well, if she HAD sleeves!) and help those she finds shed that ugliness and see the beauty God placed inside THEM. In the writing of “PASTRIX” she takes us along and lets us see some of the people who need help finding God inside themselves, and allows us to accompany THEM on their journeys to that discovery. The journeys are not always pleasant, but they are always REAL.

Sara Groves is a favorite Christian singer of mine and one of the songs she performs is called “The Boxer”. I was listening to that song the other day and, in my mind, I could almost see Nadia Bolz-Weber and Jesus Christ in a boxing ring with gloves on, side by side, slugging it out with pain, addiction, homelessness, unwelcomeness, unforgiveness, poverty, hunger, hypocrisy, sickness, and sin – and winning. I get this crazy mental image in my head of her leaning against Christ after the last bell, both of them bloodied and battered, her tattoos glistening with sweat, and I can hear her as she looks up at the face of Jesus and says, “Damn, that was a hell of a fight!”

I have a pretty good feeling Jesus would not disagree with the message or her delivery of that message.

Many of the individuals highlighted in “PASTRIX” are seriously flawed. When the last page is turned, we could very well be left wondering if the very first person Christ reveals Himself to upon His return just might be someone from the House For All Sinners And Saints.

Seriously. Read this book.

(And check out the paperback version of MY book “TODAY IS….A Gift From God” at http://www.createspace.com/4718409)

“AN OPEN LETTER TO THE FAMILY AND FRIENDS OF RYAN LOSKARN” by Tony Casson

On By Tony CassonIn RYAN LOSKARN2 Comments

“God blesses those who mourn,
For they will be comforted.”  Matthew 5:4 NLT

“I dreamt the past was never past redeeming
But whether this was fact or honest dreaming
I beg death’s pardon now. And mourn the dead.”
Richard Wilbur – “THE PARDON”

To all who knew, loved, and will miss Ryan Loskarn;

Most of the world will quickly forget about Ryan Loskarn and move on to other things. You, his family and friends, will not. He will always be with you, and you will always remember him. It is my heartfelt prayer that each one of you remembers what it was about Ryan that touched those soft spots in your hearts. Remember him when he was helping someone; remember him when he was kind, caring, considerate, and compassionate; remember Ryan as a good person because I believe he was, indeed, a good person.

Since I have never met Ryan, how can I possibly know he was a good person? Through prayer, and God’s love.

I have prayed for Ryan, and for all of you, since I first learned of his arrest. While the volume of my tears upon hearing of Ryan’s death, and the intensity with which they were cried, can in no way compare with the tears of all of you, particularly Ryan’s parents, the tears did flow. They still flow when I think about the words he wrote in the letter he left before he pronounced a death sentence upon himself. It was a death sentence I understand all too well, as I pronounced one upon myself when the FBI came to arrest me for similar reasons. Through the grace of God, I survived that brutal assault upon myself, sparing my children and other family members and friends what you are all going through now.

In the words Ryan left behind lie the ability for anyone who has a heart filled with God’s love to see the goodness that was Ryan Loskarn. It should be easy for anyone to discern from those words that they were written by a kind, loving, sensitive individual. It should be as equally easy to picture a man who was ashamed, embarrassed, lost, and confused; not some monster trying to escape the penalty society was about to impose upon him. I believe Ryan was trying to escape himself. He couldn’t have liked that part of him which evil had seduced. He didn’t love himself, so he was unable to see the love others had for him. He couldn’t see the love God had for him. The evil which had seduced him blinded him to the fact that those who truly loved him would have continued to do so. It also blinded him to the fact that his life was not over; it was going to change drastically, but it was not over. The evil that seduced him blinded him to all of that, plus the knowledge that God loved him and could have saved him.

Ryan could only see that his immediate future was in the arena where those who committed the sins he committed are regularly thrown to the lions with little or no regard to who they really are as people, or how they had become so completely and utterly lost. There is no thought given to fixing a problem which drags this nation farther and farther into the sewer on a daily basis, wreaking havoc and scorching the earth behind it. There is nothing resembling intelligent dialogue to address a problem which destroys lives; the lives of those seduced by the evils society allows to enter into our homes unimpeded, as well as the lives of those whose only ‘crime’ was to love them. I am not forgetting those children Ryan so powerfully and emotionally apologized to in his letter. But for the moment, this is not their story because their lives are not the only ones affected in all of this. They deserve better than they are getting from those who claim to be ‘protecting’ them, but more on that later.

Irony sometimes delivers tragic consequences, as evidenced by the fact Ryan’s political savvy likely played a role in his decision to end his life. He knew only too well that the political stages used by many of those seeking public office are built upon a foundation consisting of lives destroyed unnecessarily and with increasing frequency resulting from our policy of pursuit and prosecution rather than prevention. In far too many cases this policy creates the opportunity for evil to seduce those they will later destroy and use as part of the stage upon which they will stand and boldly state “I am protecting America’s children!” Hard to vote against someone who is doing that. But in his heart, Ryan MUST have known all of that was nothing more than political grandstanding; his knowledge of politics and those who played that brutal game assured his awareness of the fact it was all pompous, political puffery designed to garner votes; he suddenly found himself face to face with the fact he had inadvertently contributed to the out-of-control machine which would now label him as a monster. But Ryan Loskarn was a good person, and he knew it. He KNEW the problem was NOT that he was a monster. In his heart, Ryan knew that these same individuals who were clamoring for photo-ops on the backs of tragically destroyed individuals and their families were the ones who allowed the REAL monster into our homes in the first place.

Ryan’s death was preventable and this is what cause MY tears to flow the hardest. If our elected public servants (how many of them actually realize they are there to serve us?) had been serving the needs of America and acting in a truly responsible manner in the PAST, Ryan Loskarn would still have a FUTURE. If the peer-to-peer programs which Ryan mentioned, which deliver so much filth into our nation’s homes, were held responsible for their content or removed from the internet altogether; if Congress was more concerned with saving the lives of this nation’s citizens rather than incarcerating them under the ridiculously and irresponsibly offensive and vulgar banner they fly of “Protecting Our Children”; if America’s citizens would demand that its representatives do their jobs rather than simply do what will get them re-elected, Ryan Loskarn and many, many others would still be alive.

Would Ryan still have problems dues to the abuse he suffered as a child? Of course, but if we can all try to understand that the issues plaguing Ryan were not unique to him; if we can bring ourselves to realize we live in an environment where our government and judicial system regularly stand UP for the rights of those who wish to flood our senses with filth and stand ON the rights of those who wish to promote decency, morality, and -are you ready?- GOD; if we can look at things with solutions in mind and God’s love in our hearts, perhaps we can prevent more families from suffering the loss of someone else’s ‘Ryan’ in such a heartbreakingly tragic and totally unnecessary manner.

God often provides us with opportunities wrapped up in tragedy, sadness, and loss. I know all of you loved Ryan for who he WAS, and could have, and would have, helped him make it through what he DID. Perhaps the tragedy of his death, the loss of his smile in your lives and the sadness of the utter senselessness of the whole situation regarding the events leading up to a young man finding it necessary to take his own life can provide us all with an opportunity to demand an explanation from those who offer nothing but the destruction of American families as a solution to a problem that reaches into more homes in this country than any of them would ever dare to admit. And THAT sad situation exists because Congress will not do what it CAN do to prevent it.

Nothing can bring Ryan back, and I know this. I pray for all of you who loved him and I ask God to help light the way to find the opportunities Ryan’s death can provide which might prevent other parents, friends, and family members from experiencing the pain you are all feeling now.

Ryan Loskarn, may God welcome you home and use you as a beacon of hope for all those similarly afflicted and feeling similar pain. May He show us all more mercy than we deserve, and help this country’s leaders understand the complete and utter futility of doing only that which is politically  expedient as opposed to that which can actually help those they are elected to serve.

This Woman…A Gift From God

On By Tony CassonIn Friends and Family3 Comments

by Tony E. Casson

“Many will say they are loyal friends.
But who can find one who is truly reliable?” Proverbs 20:6 NLT

“Each friend represents a world in us, a world possibly not born until they arrive,
and it is only by this meeting that a new world is born.” Anais Nin, The Diary Of Anais Nin

God rarely announces His gifts with a lot of fanfare, as evidenced by the gift of His Son, whom He sacrificed in order to offer Hope to the world.

Shortly after arriving here at Oakdale FCI, a friend of my sister – a person I had never heard of, let alone met – sent me a note of encouragement written on a card which had a verse taken from the Bible printed on the front. That card arrived quietly and without fanfare, and while it was appreciated, it certainly was not viewed at the time as being anything beyond a nice gesture which required me to remember my manners and send a note of thanks by return mail.

The name of the woman who sent that card is Diane Woodall, and while I did not view this unknown person as any sort of gift from God at the time, the relationship that was begun when Diane first put pen to paper and reached out to another human being has blossomed into the most beautiful friendship imaginable, and her placement into my life could ONLY have come as a gift from God as evidence of His grace and His indescribable ability to attend to even the minutest details of our lives if we only afford Him the opportunity.

“‘For I know the plans I have for you,’ says the Lord.’ They are plans for good, and not for evil, for a future and a hope.'” This quote from the Holy Bible, Jeremiah 29:11, was the message on the front of that card. It has occupied space above the mirror in my cell since it was first received. It is my personal assurance from God that the insanity which precipitated this period of incarceration is over, and the future is at hand. They are words that have kept me focused on God and the task before me of building a relationship with Him that is enabling me to become the human being He intended me to be when He first gave me life.

The card itself was an introduction to the woman who would grow to become the best friend I have ever had. Quietly, unobtrusively, and totally devoid of fanfare, God gave me the gift of a stranger’s Christian love which has guided me, kept me company, and helped me to take confident steps toward His promise of a future and a hope.

I have written – and wadded up for the wastebasket – several attempts to continue beyond this point. There is so much to say about this person who has given so much of herself, her time, and her money to type, print, mail, copy, research, edit, redo, reprint, recopy, remail, advise, consult, console, and correct. Hundreds of hours and hundreds of dollars spent lending support to a very, very broken man as God walked him through the process of healing, restoration, and renewal. And for what? Because God dumped me in her lap, and said, “You need to help this person.”

There is so much of what I have been able to accomplish that would have been extremely difficult, if not outright impossible, without her invaluable assistance and devotion. She took over the management of these “Chronicles” some time ago and she was utterly irreplaceable in completing “TODAY IS….A Gift From God” (my book of daily devotionals on Kindle, for those of you who haven’t been paying attention). I literally shudder to think how much less I would have achieved here without her friendship. I am leaving here eager, confident, and prepared to face the future, and a very large part of my ability to be that way is directly attributable to her.

When I expressed reservations about going back to the state of Florida, Diane quietly investigated a possibility which has recently become reality. In May, upon my release from this place, I will be heading to Washington, DC rather than the sunshine state of Florida. Some may view this as a step in the wrong direction, but I can only say the reasons why this is the greatest blessing I have ever received are numerous, and I am completely overjoyed! I humbly offer thanks to God and all of those who helped make it happen! I will be taking up residence in the Central Union Mission in downtown Washington (www.missiondc.org), and I will be participating in programs to help me continue to grow in my relationship with God, and I will be immersed in an environment of service to others. An environment I believe is one God Himself chose for me. Don Woodall (Diane’s husband), is very involved with the Mission and provided the link to Reverend David Howard, who is the director of the Spiritual Transformation program at the Mission. My sister Kathy spoke with the person who will be my new Probation Officer upon my release and was able to gain approval for the transfer, which will also serve to place me close to family members. Did I say I was blessed?

In making this move, I will be able to learn how to follow Christ OUTSIDE of this prison, and I will be able to focus on a life of service to other people. I have learned many valuable lessons while in prison. Some directly from God, through the Holy Bible; some from reading what others have written as daily inspiration in devotionals such as “Streams In The Desert”, “Our Daily Bread”, and “The Upper Room”; and I have learned many valuable lessons from the friendship of Diane, and the willingness of her husband and Reverend Howard to lend a hand to a stranger. I have prayed, meditated, walked and talked with God, and through it all, I have thanked Him for His gift to me of this person who is as important in my life as any person has ever been. Rising above all that I have learned is this: We can do the most to help ourselves, when we reach out to help another. You see, folks, this is what God intended all along. It’s not complicated or difficult.

Diane Woodall helped me to learn this, and other, valuable lessons and I am forever grateful. No one person has ever exhibited such kindness to me. It is an amazing thing to think about, and I do think about it often.

For those of you who think it is impossible for a severely broken human being to undergo a complete, and total, spiritual transformation, you simply do NOT know God! And for those of you who don’t believe that friendship, kindness, Christian love, generosity, and selflessness can contribute mightily to that transformation, you simply do NOT know Diane Woodall.

Diane, my dear, dear friend, may God bless each and every one of your days and show you the love, kindness, and compassion that you have shown me, increased 10, 20, 30…..a HUNDRED times!

“(IN)JUSTICE IS BLIND” by Tony Casson

On By Tony CassonIn (IN)JUSTICE IS BLIND1 Comment

“God blesses those who hunger and thirst for justice,
for they will be satisfied.”
Matthew 5:6 NLT

“Extreme law is often extreme injustice.” Terence (Publius Terentius Afer)

“Volenti non fit iniuria”. Translated, this anonymous Latin legal maxim means, “To a person who consents, no injustice is done.” On the surface, this sentiment indeed has merit, for its broad meaning is that injustice can only occur when decent people do not speak out to prevent it. But this is 2014 in the United States of America, and INJUSTICE has permeated our justice system, filling it with the overpowering stench of corruption, the foul odor of personal ambition, the fetid funk of irresponsibility, and the sour stink that accompanies egregious abuse of power.

Last week, an incoming inmate was escorted by a friend of mine, to his new ‘residence’ in one of the housing units that was the farthest away from the Special Housing Unit (SHU) from where the individual had been released. He was brought into the unit and ‘shown’ where he would set up housekeeping within the unit. As it turned out, the bunk originally assigned to him was an ‘upper’. Nothing unusual so far. Just normal stuff. Except for the fact that the new arrival, Ronald Breaux, age 68, of Raceland, LA, has been BLIND for 27 years and had recently been sentenced in federal court in the western district of Louisiana by one Judge Haik, to 13 years in prison for possession of child pornography. The fact that Mr. Breaux is blind was not allowed to be introduced into the proceedings. In fact, it was ruled by Judge Haik as being ‘irrelevant’ to said proceedings.

I think I have said all I wish to say for the time being. I will leave it in the hands of those who read this, and anyone they can reach out to, in the hope that someone will raise a voice of protest and indignation. I encourage you all to investigate and decide for yourselves: “Can America sleep safer at night knowing that a blind man is in prison?”

On second thought, perhaps a better question is, “HOW can America sleep at night knowing that a blind man is in prison?”