The sun rises anew on an early August morning,
Brilliantly painting the sky in orange and red,
Clouds trying to hide the glorious display,
Outlined in fiery halos instead.
Putting to rest the sorrows of days gone by,
She ushers in the hope of a new day,
Greeting all with open arms,
Who stop to marvel at her array.
It's a twenty-one gun salute,
Respect to days who've met their death.
The blush of the morning sky,
Filling hopeful souls with their breath.
It's a new day now, and yesterday's gone,
Eclipsed are the sorrows of the past.
Hope rises brightly with the sun,
Promising better days ahead at last.
Monday, September 29, 2014
Wednesday, September 24, 2014
Building Bridges and Tearing Down Walls
I've said before that prison is a very lonely place. It's very isolating, despite being surrounded by hundreds of other men; despite being stacked like sardines in tight places. In fact, it's difficult in prison to find a quiet place alone... and yet, it's still terribly lonely.
Joseph F. Newton said that, "People are lonely because they build walls instead of bridges." When someone ends up in prison that's one of the strongest walls that separates him from people he cares about, and who care about him. Bridges are built around common experiences and interests, and prison is not common between most people in prison and their loved ones outside. Even men who share the same experience of prison don't always share similar life experiences otherwise, and if they don't, they likely won't form connections.
Shared experiences are key to growing deep and lasting roots in relationships. Prison cuts off those shared experiences for most prisoners and their loved ones. Nobody in prison enjoys sharing prison experiences with those they love. After all, prison is a source of shame, not a badge of honor, despite what may be portrayed in some music genres. And some loved ones may not want to share their experiences with the person in prison for fear of hurting feelings or making the separation harder.
The end result for many prisoners is that their relationships with those they once considered close fade or die. Just like relationships between two free people, relationships between prisoners and the ones they love take work. And perhaps the work is harder because of these walls we build, intentional or otherwise, but the work is worth it. At least for me.
Sometimes the chasm seems impossible to cross, but until there is no longer a chance, I will continue to work on building bridges. I need people in my life, and although I built walls by coming to prison, I'm working on tearing down those walls and even using the rubble in the process.
Joseph F. Newton said that, "People are lonely because they build walls instead of bridges." When someone ends up in prison that's one of the strongest walls that separates him from people he cares about, and who care about him. Bridges are built around common experiences and interests, and prison is not common between most people in prison and their loved ones outside. Even men who share the same experience of prison don't always share similar life experiences otherwise, and if they don't, they likely won't form connections.
Shared experiences are key to growing deep and lasting roots in relationships. Prison cuts off those shared experiences for most prisoners and their loved ones. Nobody in prison enjoys sharing prison experiences with those they love. After all, prison is a source of shame, not a badge of honor, despite what may be portrayed in some music genres. And some loved ones may not want to share their experiences with the person in prison for fear of hurting feelings or making the separation harder.
The end result for many prisoners is that their relationships with those they once considered close fade or die. Just like relationships between two free people, relationships between prisoners and the ones they love take work. And perhaps the work is harder because of these walls we build, intentional or otherwise, but the work is worth it. At least for me.
Sometimes the chasm seems impossible to cross, but until there is no longer a chance, I will continue to work on building bridges. I need people in my life, and although I built walls by coming to prison, I'm working on tearing down those walls and even using the rubble in the process.
Friday, September 19, 2014
Fruit-Bearing Faith
One of the features of the prison I'm at is unique from the other two higher security level prisons I've been at. We have personal gardens that inmates can sign up for. They are ten foot by fourteen foot gardens, but you can fit a lot into a little space. The harvest of the fresh vegetables is a nice break from the prison food that often features overcooked, low quality vegetables.
The thing about having a garden is that you get no fruit if you don't plant, and then care for the growing vegetables. I remember when I was growing up we had fruit trees in our yard and I was told that for most fruit trees you had to care for the tree for three years before you could begin harvesting fruit. I know that for vegetables, if you want a bountiful harvest you have to care for and water the plants. You have to also remove weeds that threaten to choke out the fruitfulness of the plants.
I see a parallel here to faith. When you plant a seed of faith through prayer, or an earnest expectation of hope for some yield in your life, or in the life of another, that faith requires careful tending before you'll see a yield. Weeds of doubt, fear, discouragement, or so many other emotions threaten to choke out that seed of faith. It requires careful, and attentive removal of these weeds to keep that faith growing until it yields fruit.
I know I've planted many seeds of faith over the last five plus years and some are still germinating while persistent weeds try to choke them out. Other seeds are finally yielding fruit and seeing this fruit strengthens my resolve to continue to not only plant more seeds, but to carefully tend and water the seeds of faith that still haven't borne fruit. Maybe you've let discouragement, or some other weed choke your faith. It might be time for some careful weeding to remove these obstacles to fruit-bearing faith. It might be time to strengthen your faith with some careful watering. Fruit will come. I'm seeing a yield and you can too!
The thing about having a garden is that you get no fruit if you don't plant, and then care for the growing vegetables. I remember when I was growing up we had fruit trees in our yard and I was told that for most fruit trees you had to care for the tree for three years before you could begin harvesting fruit. I know that for vegetables, if you want a bountiful harvest you have to care for and water the plants. You have to also remove weeds that threaten to choke out the fruitfulness of the plants.
I see a parallel here to faith. When you plant a seed of faith through prayer, or an earnest expectation of hope for some yield in your life, or in the life of another, that faith requires careful tending before you'll see a yield. Weeds of doubt, fear, discouragement, or so many other emotions threaten to choke out that seed of faith. It requires careful, and attentive removal of these weeds to keep that faith growing until it yields fruit.
I know I've planted many seeds of faith over the last five plus years and some are still germinating while persistent weeds try to choke them out. Other seeds are finally yielding fruit and seeing this fruit strengthens my resolve to continue to not only plant more seeds, but to carefully tend and water the seeds of faith that still haven't borne fruit. Maybe you've let discouragement, or some other weed choke your faith. It might be time for some careful weeding to remove these obstacles to fruit-bearing faith. It might be time to strengthen your faith with some careful watering. Fruit will come. I'm seeing a yield and you can too!
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