Celebrating Thanksgiving in Prison

 Prison is not an ideal setting for giving thanks. Or at least one would think so. Thanksgiving is normally a time when families come together to eat a large turkey meal, and to play board games or watch football. The holiday centers around family, and prisoners are away from their families, their loved ones. The reminder only worsens the sense of isolation and loneliness many of us feel at holiday times. 

Even in prison, though, we have much to be thankful for. No, we don't get a special turkey meal (unless you count turkey loaf, a half cup of "stuffing" and a tablespoon of cranberry sauce as special), and we're surrounded by other prisoners rather than our families. But we do have three meals a day and a warm, if uncomfortable, bed to sleep in each night. That's more than could be said for the hundreds of thousands of refugees, political and otherwise, who have been uprooted from their homes this year. 

We are also surrounded by people who, in some cases, have become closer than family members who choose to remain distant or absent from our lives. Some choose their families from among friends rather than suffer the rejection of their birth families. Often, those friends are also in prison. They share in the same isolating experiences, they understand the same struggles, they eat the same tired out turkey loaf meal the department pretends is a holiday meal. 

I'm grateful to have some family still in my life, and although I cannot celebrate the holiday with them in person, I am very thankful for their presence in my life. I'm also thankful for the opportunity I had in prison to earn a bachelor's degree from Calvin University. I'm thankful to have been able to author a book in prison now published on Amazon.com (Insider's Guide to Prison Life). I'm thankful to have learned to play the guitar. I'm thankful that I have the love and support from some very special friends who make my time in prison easier by their presence in my life. I'm thankful for God's abundant mercy, His provision throughout my time in prison, and for His unfailing grace.

Choosing thankfulness in prison is not always difficult. I can enjoy the splendor of a firey sunrise or sunset, or the blanketing beauty of falling snow inside or outside these fences. I can experience the calming pleasure of listening to classical music while sipping a mocha in the evening. I can make lifelong connections with friends, even within the confines of prison. Although imprisoned, I have the freedom to read, write, and educate myself in ways I would unlikely have time for outside of prison. I'm thankful that I have had the time and space to work on some character issues and thinking problems that needed to be addressed in my life. I'm thankful for the time and opportunity to deepen my relationship with God. 

Thankfulness requires humility, a focus outside of oneself. It requires a putting aside of our demands for our vision of "the good life." When we can refocus, away from all that we wish was different in our lives, which for prisoners means primarily freedom from these confines, we are then free to notice and be thankful for the many blessings we do have. 

Thankfulness is a choice, and it's a choice that cultivates joy, even in the midst of trial. I'd rather feel joyful than be miserable all the time. I choose thankfulness.