Kindness is Not Weakness, Even in Prison

 One saying commonly used by prisoners is, "Don't mistake my kindness for weakness." Ironically, this is exactly how many prisoners view kindness -- as a weakness that can be exploited. Whether the kindness comes from another prisoner, a corrections officer, or a family member or friend, some prisoners are quick to exploit it. 

This was a struggle for me when I first entered prison, because I believe that people should be treated with kindness and respect. I quickly learned that kindness can be a weakness if it is not accompanied by awareness and confidence. It took me some time to find the right balance so that the risk of exploitation did not harden me to the humanity of each person I encountered throughout the day. This is a delicate balance that requires emotional intelligence to get right. I still get it wrong sometimes. 

Few prisoners or officers make kindness a practice in prison, but there are exceptions. The majority of these exceptions are because of the expression of someone's genuine faith. Whether faith or something else is the motivation, though, kindness is simple, and it may make the difference in someone's life. 

Kindness doesn't have to be complicated or costly. Sometimes kindness simply means greeting someone with a smile, saying, "Please" and "Thank you," recognizing when someone is down and encouraging them, or praising someone for a job well done. 

Cleaning bathrooms is one of the least desirable jobs available in prison. When I see someone doing a good job cleaning a bathroom, I thank them and tell them I appreciate their work. This simple act of kindness goes a long way in an environment where people complain so much, even when a prisoner's job (like cleaning) inconveniences them. 

Some people may view kindness as weakness, but I see it as a powerful tool that tears down walls and builds foundations, and that has the potential to change the culture where we live. And let's be honest, this world could use a lot more kindness!

The next time you're in the grocery line or in a restaurant, for example, try being kind. Greet the clerk with a smile and genuinely ask, "How are you today?" Thank them for their service, too. At restaurants, write, "Thank you for your service!" and leave a tip that shows you mean it. Choose kindness even when the food or service disappoints you. 

You might be surprised by how much it brightens your own day when you choose to be kind to someone else.

"Those in Prison" poem

 I recently came across this poignant prose about prison that made me say, "yup, that's right!" I thought I'd share it. Enjoy!

"Those in Prison," by Susan Zalatan

We want them to be responsible
So we take away all responsibility

We want them to be positive and constructive
So we degrade them and make them useless

We want them to be trustworthy
So we put them where there is no trust

We want them to be nonviolent
So we surround them with violence

We want them to be kind and loving
So we subject them to hatred and cruelty

We want them to quit being the "tough guy"
So we put them were only the "tough guy" survives

We want them to quit exploiting us
So we cage them where they exploit each other

We want them to take control of their lives
So we make them dependent on us

We want them to be a part of our community
So we separate them from our community

You want us to have self-worth
So you destroy our self-worth
And call it "corrections."

Prisoner Testimonial--He's Got My Attention Now!

 

A few years back, I sat in a prison church service feeling bored and slightly frustrated by the disorganized progression and unpreparedness of the volunteer leading the service. I had no experience with this volunteer, so I didn't know if this disorganization was the norm or an anomaly. 

My mind wandered to all the more productive things I could be doing rather than seemingly wasting my time there. Little things that normally miss my attention suddenly captured it. The lights were too dim, the seats were old and uncomfortable, another prisoner behind me sniffled annoyingly. I wished I could get up and leave without being rude. Then the volunteer said, "We have a little extra time. Would anyone like to get up and share a testimony?" 

I groaned inwardly because invariably, someone would take far too much time telling us his life story, and it would sound very much like the last one I'd heard. I struggled to keep perspective and remember that each man is a person who wants what we all want -- to be loved and accepted by others. 

A quiet young man with a chubby face who is seated at the end of my row stood up and moved to the front. My curiosity piqued a little because he wasn't your typical ready-to-share prisoner. I found myself now wanting to stay and hear what he had to say. 

He got to the lectern and adjusted the mic down so it pointed to his mouth, while he shifted uncomfortably and looked down at the floor, terrified to speak. When he does, his voice is so quiet, and he is mumbling slightly.  

"Hi. My name is B____. Today is my birthday."  

I groan again inwardly. Attention seeker! The young man continues, oblivious to my internal dialogue.

"I almost didn't have this birthday because one month ago, I tried to commit suicide." 

I stopped talking to myself, my mind suddenly silent, jolted from its judgmental narrative. I'm ready to listen now, completely unaware of the distractions of moments before. 

"I can't even tell my mom," the young man continues, "because I don't want her to know that she almost lost her son. I didn't die because God saved me when the C.O.s found me. I know it was wrong to try to kill myself, and I'm glad God gave me another chance." 

He shuffled back to his seat, and I sat there feeling condemned. I came to the service looking for what I could get from it, not what I could bring to it. This young man, the same age as my oldest child, was sitting four seats away from me, hurting, and I barely even noticed him.

I sat quietly, my mind still silent as I let the moment sink in. I was surrounded by hurting people, each one with his own burden of guilt, shame, and longing for significance. I felt ashamed for my own selfish focus. 

A few minutes later, I left the service, soberly reminded of what Cornelius Plantinga, Jr. said in his book "Engaging God's World":

"The way to thrive is to help others to thrive; the way to flourish is to cause others to flourish; the way to fulfill yourself is to spend yourself."

How to Write the Greatest Story You'll Ever Tell

 

Some of the greatest story tellers I've ever met are in prison. If all the stories I've heard are to be believed, I've met crime bosses, hit men, real gangsters, multi-millionaires, and hundreds of incarcerated innocent men.  Now, to be fair, there is a small chance that some of the stories I've heard are true. Undoubtedly, prison holds some truly innocent men, and others who, while guilty of a crime, were nevertheless railroaded by a vigilante prosecutor who overcharged the offender and fabricated evidence to make a case. I know I've met hit men, serial killers, and true crime bosses. But these are the stories you hear from others, not from the ones who lived it. Those men have no need to recount their stories -- they have nothing to prove.  What strikes me as ironic is that with so many men who can tell a good story, why are there so few who can write a new chapter in their own lives? Why are there so many inventive story tellers, yet so few intentional authors?  We all write the story of our own lives, and perhaps because some men feel their stories are dull and uninteresting, they fabricate and embellish their pasts. But the most compelling stories are not fictional accounts of one's criminal exploits. They are the stories lives out by those who reformed from a life of crime and wrote a new chapter, a new ending, in the story of their lives. The most compelling stories are those that begin as a tragic drama but that end with a spark of hope, igniting a flame of compassion in those who believe in redemption.  The story of Chuck Colson's life took a tragic turn when he was sent to prison in disgrace for his role in Watergate, one of this country's most famous political scandals. But rather than sit around recounting stories of his influence on the most powerful man in the world, Colson decided to change the narrative of his life. He used his worst mistakes as a catalyst to build one of the largest prisoner advocacy and prison reform organizations and ministries in the United States and around the world: Prison Fellowship.  Chuck Colson wrote a new chapter in the story of his life that ended up impacting millions of people in a positive way. We may not all be able to reach the level of influence and impact that Colson did, but stories are not written a chapter at a time. They are written one word at a time.  Every day presents a new opportunity to change the narrative of our lives, and that takes looking forward with purpose, not behind us in nostalgia.

Thirsty for a Little Peace and Quiet in Prison

"What did they just say over the radio?" someone asked during a recent count time. We were locked down, as usual, for one of our several daily prisoner counts. All seemed as usual until we heard over a corrections officer's radio, "The water is contaminated and should not be consumed."  Over the next thirty minutes, we waited for the announcement over the loudspeaker warning us against drinking the water. We hoped for more information as to why we were not to drink it. And we kept waiting, but all we heard was silence from the officers.  As the time dragged on without any official announcement, prisoners shouted back and forth. "Don't drink the water! It's contaminated!!" Others added their unhelpful two cents, proving that their input was worth about that much. The anxiety in the unit grew palpable as the continued official silence led us to rather dark conclusions.  Finally the loudspeaker crackled to life, "Attention in the unit. Attention in the unit. Do NOT drink the water from your sinks. We have been informed that the water is contaminated due to a water processing plant issue. We will have more information for you soon. Meanwhile, do not drink the water!"  The officer had not even stopped speaking before the "animals" in the unit began hooting, hollering, and literally barking as they shook their barred doors vigorously. The unit erupted in screams and so much noise that anyone who missed the announcement was probably highly confused.  Eventually, we learned that the contamination problem was city wide and had begun the night before. We had been drinking and using the water all day. I don't know why we were not alerted sooner. Perhaps it was a city wide communication problem. It's hard not to believe, though, that as prisoners we were not valued enough to protect earlier.  Whatever the case, I will say that since the announcement the prison officials have fastidiously renewed their warnings and provided us prisoners plenty of bottled water. We have picked up fresh bottles at each mealtime, two or three at a time.  This water contamination problem is only supposed to last two or three days; however, I imagine that even after things are back to "normal," it'll be difficult to tell if I live in a daycare of kindergartners, a zoo of wild animals, or a prison of emotionally immature men.