Lost Treasure, A Father's Lament

By far, the hardest part of prison for me has been losing my family. Prison is already isolating enough, but to lose those you love the most, and to be the cause of that loss, is a perpetually crushing weight to carry around. It is my biggest regret in life. I have been in prison now for just over nine years, and I have not seen or spoken to my children in all that time. 

Today, my youngest daughter turns sixteen years old. I vividly remember the last time I saw and spoke to her. I didn't know it would be the last time, and I often imagine what I might have said or done differently if I had known I wouldn't see her again for all these years. Every scenario I run in my head always ends with an embrace that I don't want to let go, and many tears, because I want her to know how much I love her and will never forget her. 

I have no control over my lack of communication with my children. That control was taken from me when I came to prison. But that doesn't stop me from praying for and thinking about my children every day as I long to reconcile with them. It has been three thousand, three hundred, and sixty-six days since I saw my youngest daughter last, and every single one of those days I have prayed for and thought of her. 

I remember her bubbly personality, always trying to cheer up others. She is a natural leader (like her dad) with deep compassion for others (like her mom). She is, as they say back east, "wicked smaht." She is also a fierce defender of what is right, often standing up for others. She is beautiful and wise, and she can be anything she wants to be. I don't know much about her life over the last nine years, but I know that these qualities she had before I came to prison are qualities that she will carry for the rest of her life. 

Although I cannot celebrate with her today, I am celebrating her life anyway. Her birth was the happiest moment of my life, and despite my failures as a father, I am proud to call her my daughter. She is no longer a baby, but she will always be my baby girl. I'm sorry I failed you---I will always love you.

Historic College Graduation Marks Shift in Approach to Corrections

On Monday, May 21, the first cohort of the Calvin Prison Initiative (CPI) graduated at the Handlon Correctional Facility in Ionia, Michigan with their associates of arts degrees in Ministry Leadership. This is the first major milestone on these students' journey towards a bachelor's degree in Ministry Leadership. Because this is the first graduating class of the Calvin Prison Initiative, several media outlets provided coverage of this momentous occasion. Over 150 guests from Calvin College, the Michigan Department of Corrections (MDOC), other CPI cohorts, and graduating student's family members attended. Fifteen students of the first graduating class received their associates degrees, many of whom have never achieved anything this noteworthy in their educational histories, before continuing on to earn their bachelor's degrees over the next two years. This occasion marks the first of many groups of prisoners who will graduate from CPI as Calvin College seeks to change hearts and minds of Michigan's prisoners, teaching them to think deeply, act justly, live wholeheartedly, and become agents of change whether they are in prison or out. Calvin College Provost, Cheryl Brandsen, gave the convocation address focusing on "Radical Hope." She urged each graduate to look forward with hope to how they can be agents of change in their own communities. Calvin College's intention is to maintain a balance of students who will eventually be paroled and others who are serving life in prison. Their goal is to both prepare ambassadors who will leave prison to make a positive impact in the communities to which they return, and to develop lifer prisoners to make a positive impact changing the culture as they serve within their prison communities. After hearing Provost Brandsen's convocation address, Calvin Seminary President, Jul Medenblik, responded, "It's very meaningful seeing these men receive their degrees. The seed-bearing fruit of these student's lives beautifully illustrates the hope of the Gospel. This is a program centered on hope." It is precisely hope for this seed-bearing fruit that motivates Calvin College to partner with the MDOC in this extraordinary initiative. After serving more than twenty-six years in prison, one graduate, Michael Duthler, received his degree on Monday and leaves prison on parole, returning to his community on Tuesday. Duthler is the first CPI student to leave prison, and many eyes, from both the MDOC and CPI, will be following his journey upon release after he received formative training through CPI classes. Duthler will complete his bachelor's degree on Calvin College's Knollcrest campus, majoring in either Religion or Psychology. Giving the graduating student reflection, Duthler recalled the many examples of prime citizenship he has observed through his three years in the CPI program. He thanked the professors, Knollcrest campus tutors, and his fellow classmates who have shown him examples of prime citizenship that he can emulate upon his release. Sociology professor, Elisha Marr, was among the many former professors and Calvin staff and faculty who came to celebrate this historic milestone for the graduating class. Professor Marr noted, "Research has shown that prison actually increases crime and recidivism rates unless there is an intervention. This graduation shows tangible, positive, constructive results of educational intervention." It is precisely this sort of intervention that Calvin College intends to provide through the Calvin Prison Initiative. Reflecting on the struggles that have led to this first graduating class, MDOC Director, Heidi Washington, turned to the graduating class during her final remarks and declared with deep emotion, "I'm proud of you and what you have accomplished. You have paved the way for those who will follow in your footsteps."

Happy Mother's Day

To all the mothers of prisoners: 
You deserved better from your sons and daughters. You didn't deserve the shame of having a child in prison. You didn't deserve the shame of knowing your child harmed someone else. But you loved us anyway. You visited us, wrote us, took our phone calls, and most of all, you prayed for us. From the bottom of our hearts, thank you! Happy Mother's Day!

To my own mother: 
Thank you for loving me through my ugliest, and praying with me and for me in my darkest days. It must take something extraordinary to be a mother. God bless you! I love you.

Paying a Debt--One Tomato at a Time

This past weekend, on both Saturday and Sunday mornings, I joined a group of roughly ten other Calvin Prison Initiative (CPI) student prisoners to begin working on this year's donation garden. Last year, the prisoner students who participated donated hundreds of volunteer hours to grow vegetables that were then donated to a local battered women shelter. This simple, yet profound, act of charity benefited the at-risk women and children who ate the vegetables and the men who worked hard to give back to a class of people who, in many cases, represent their victims. Opportunities in prison to give back, to make amends in simple ways, for the wrongs prisoners have committed are few and far between.

Last year was the first year CPI students planted and maintained this garden, and getting approval and administrative support to do so was challenging. Top levels of the prison administration strongly supported the prisoners volunteering to give back in this way, but as great as the idea is, some prison guards opposed it. Since the guards are responsible for overseeing the tools, some would refuse to allow those who worked the garden to check out tools, meaning much of the work was done, literally, by hand. Weeds were loosened with plastic sporks purchased from store, and water was lugged to the garden one five-gallon bucket at a time. That's a lot of lugging for a garden that was over 2,200 square feet! Maybe this year we'll have more support from prison staff.

This year, we're expanding the garden, doubling its size, the result of which we hope will mean a broader reach with the donated yield. We're not likely to ever meet the people who will benefit from our labor, but we gladly work to bless them anyway. Yes, it is an opportunity for physical exercise, to get outdoors, and for many of us the chance to do something we love. But, more so, it is the chance for us to do something tangible to make right the harms we've done. We can't always make amends directly to our victims, but sometimes making amends to other people who have experienced harm at the hands of others is the best we can do for now.

This year, as I plant seeds, pull weeds, haul water, and harvest vegetables, I will do so with the intention of making amends. As I work, I'll pray for safety and healing for the victims of domestic violence who will eat the vegetables, and I'll pray for healing and peace for those who I harmed by my crime. I know this simple act of service pales compared to the debt I owe, but it is just one of many simple things I am able to do with the intention of making things right.