I Almost Didn't Go...

“If you look for truth, you may find comfort in the end; if you look for comfort you will not get either comfort or truth only soft soap and wishful thinking to begin, and in the end, despair.” –C.S. Lewis

"Comfort and prosperity have never enriched the world as much as adversity has." -Billy Graham   

"It is quite useless knocking at the door of heaven for earthly comfort. It's not the sort of comfort they supply there." -C.S. Lewis

 I almost didn’t go.  7 o’clock is a late hour when you start your day at 4:15am.  It’s the time of day where kids are bathing and winding down and mom is counting down the clock to 8pm bedtime.  I had even lain down with my daughter at her naptime so I would be rested and ready, because I knew that I would take any excuse as why it would be better for me to stay home and go to bed and not keep my kids out so late.  And then of course I woke up with a nap hangover, even sleepier than before.  

Pride.  I don’t want to appear weak or incapable or in need…I want to be a supermom and wife and be strong with unwavering perseverance as we walk through this difficult season…on my own... I am a glory thief. 

I have a lot of fear of exposing deep ugly parts of a messy heart.  That I’ll be judged.  But more than any of that…I want to walk in freedom.  And joy.  And I need real strength.  And the peace that passes all understanding.   I know there is only One who can abundantly give these things and satisfy an aching weary soul.   And when I’m searching for comforts and control in creation rather than from the Creator, shame and defeat shackle my heart.  White flag raised...I can’t do it.  I knew I had to go…and He was calling me.  “Come…let Me bless you…hear My story of redemption and hope shared through the lives of the broken.  Come lay down your burdened heart…and I will give you rest.”   

And so I loaded up the kids, heart fearful yet hopeful.  And we went.  To a place where the broken meet.  

This journey has been a lot harder than I thought it would be.  I am learning that if I rely on my own strength to make it thru each day I become a crumbling mess.  I was telling my son, Saxon, that I had been praying for God’s comfort and that He would help me not run to candies of “instant gratification” or “escapism” like food or wine or television or the computer.  That He would comfort me.  And my son, so wise beyond his years, asks “why don’t you let your friends comfort you?”  It was as if the Lord just spoke Truth right thru this little 8 year olds breath.  Because community…the body of Christ…is a beautiful place where the Lord comforts.  And I think sometimes I shy away from community because I don’t want to be “needy” and “burdensome” and I know other people have their problems and mine really aren’t going away and I don’t want to be the person that keeps on needing.  Keeps on hurting.  Keeps on struggling.  

But that is EXACTLY where the Lord has me.  And you know what He says about it?  

“Blessed are the poor in spirit,
    for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.
⁴ Blessed are those who mourn,
    for they will be comforted.
⁵ Blessed are the meek,
    for they will inherit the earth.
⁶ Blessed are those who hunger and thirst for righteousness,
    for they will be filled.
⁷ Blessed are the merciful,
    for they will be shown mercy.
⁸ Blessed are the pure in heart,
    for they will see God.
⁹ Blessed are the peacemakers,
    for they will be called children of God.
¹⁰ Blessed are those who are persecuted because of righteousness,
    for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.”

Matthew 5:3-10

He says that when we surrender our pride and confess our need and mourn our sin and seek Him, we are BLESSED!!!  And I have to say that I have been blessed beyond anything I ever imagined in these last 5 months.  By so many people who have sent us gift after gift and paid our bills and sent encouraging letters and emails and prayers and taking care of our kids and moving into our house and contributing to our travel arrangements to see Rick and loving us well.  A testament of His Truth.  Of His goodness.  Of His love.  

So we arrived at our church that has a program called “Steps”.   And I am so glad they came.  Other broken spirited souls who have sought out community and rallied around each other and shared their stories of hurt and infidelity and addiction and incredible loss and sickness and anger bondage and ravaging pride and painful abuse and broken families and so much more…and how the Lord redeems and heals and sets free and gives grace and joy to these “needy” people… and it was all I needed to hear to know that I was right where I was suppose to be.  To hear the Gospel through their stories was sweet medicine.  And I saw strength and joy and freedom that these cross clingers wore like a glorious medal bestowed from the bloody battlefields of life.  And they were blessed.   And they were a blessing.  To me.  To all the other weary hearts who were there for Truth.  Comfort.  To be blessed.  His grace covers all.  ALL.  There is no sin too big or darkness too black that His grace cannot redeem.

I’m glad I have a place to go every week.  Especially after our visits with Rick.

One of the hardest parts of visiting Rick with the kids is that it amplifies that he’s not here.  I get used to him not being here after time passes.  But when we visit him and we are all there together as a family and the dynamic is whole…his absence is amplified in the leaving.  

I’ve heard the word “amputation” used when describing a divorce.  When I was 9 my parents ended their marriage.  I remember it being painful.  I remember crying and being sad that they wouldn’t be together anymore and my dad would be living somewhere else...alone.  But what I remember most is how hard it was to go and see my dad and then how hard it was to leave again.  Until finally after a couple of years of doing this over and over again, every other weekend, and one month in the summer…I stopped.  It was simply too painful.  And I didn’t really know how to sort out those feelings or articulate what it was at the time that made me not want to go and see him, but now I understand.  It just ripped the heart right open and I wanted the bleeding to stop.  This sort of feels like that.  Each visit reopens the wound. 

Last weekend we headed for Big Spring.  My mom and stepdad went too.  I was glad to have them there.  Especially for moral support.  We left on Friday after school and drove the long stretch of flat dusty highways and rugged landscapes littered with rocks and cotton and bushes.  And then about an hour outside of Big Spring, there were miles and miles of tall white spinning blades.  Converting wind to electricity.  The kids played their electronics and watched movies and were excited to arrive at our weekend home.  And to be in the arms of their much loved daddy. 

I was hoping Big Spring would kinda start to grow on me.  Not so much.  I woke up the first night at 3am to a fire alarm malfunctioning at the hotel and the second night to the foul stench of natural gas that had settled like a fog over the town, seeping into our hotel rooms, a gift of the large oil refinery up the way.  And the food.  My kids don’t even like the food.  And its Wendy’s…   We did find one hidden gem the last night we were there.  An old 1931 hotel recently restored.  Beautiful.  Historic.  And an amazing restaurant.   And the whole town was there too.

Then all the labored travels with 3 kids leads up a road of crumbling building decay to a crowded room with rules placed on hugs and kisses and sitting positions.  Sitting for hours on end in hard plastic back chairs eating lunch out of a vending machine.  A delicacy to Rick.  The burgers that come out of that machine are gourmet compared to the food they serve the prisoners.   

It is always good to see him.  The kids seemed more at ease.  Arista must have felt more comfortable because she threw a couple of her crazy temper tantrums.  Thankfully they did not terminate our visit.  The kids played dominos and memory and Rick did card tricks for them which they marveled at.  We had a lot of good laughs and shared stories and made dreams of what we will do when he comes home.  His heart is so sweet and resolved to focus on the good.  

And in a place of hardened hearts, Rick is determined not to succumb to the prison plague.  But it is a daily struggle considering the circumstances.  Being away from his family and loved ones.  Itching like crazy due to the harsh detergents that they use and they haven't given him medicine for it.  Not getting life sustaining drugs.  Being yelled at by various correctional officers who find joy in exerting power and spewing hate.  Living in that dusty smelly town where pollens are abundant and an oil refinery pollutes the air.  There are no couches to sit on or places of respite.  The food they eat is labeled “institutional.  Not fit for human consumption.  Inmates only.”  Most of it is well beyond the expiration date, canned and of little nutritional value.  

It hurts to see someone you love being treated like this.  Not being taken care of properly.  Uncomfortable.  Frustrated.  Trapped.  It makes me so sad.  And sad that I never even considered a prisoner’s plight.  I think I probably even thought they deserved it.  But the Lord’s sweet grace has opened my eyes to His wayward people that He loves and treasures and I am so grateful.  He’s grown compassion right deep in the trenches of my heart.  So maybe I can be a part of His work in caring for the lost and broken.  To offer hope.  To share His love.  To be the blessing. 

³⁴ “Then the King will say to those on his right, ‘Come, you who are blessed by my Father; take your inheritance, the kingdom prepared for you since the creation of the world. ³⁵ For I was hungry and you gave me something to eat, I was thirsty and you gave me something to drink, I was a stranger and you invited me in, ³⁶ I needed clothes and you clothed me, I was sick and you looked after me, I was in prison and you came to visit me.’

³⁷ “Then the righteous will answer him, ‘Lord, when did we see you hungry and feed you, or thirsty and give you something to drink? ³⁸ When did we see you a stranger and invite you in, or needing clothes and clothe you? ³⁹ When did we see you sick or in prison and go to visit you?’

⁴⁰ “The King will reply, ‘Truly I tell you, whatever you did for one of the least of these brothers and sisters of mine, you did for me.’  -Matthew 25:34-40

And then there's...the fleas

“Gratitude bestows reverence, allowing us to encounter everyday epiphanies, those transcendent moments of awe that change forever how we experience life and the world.”  -Sarah Ban Breathnach

“Out of the darkness of the cross, the world transfigures into new life.  And there is no other way.”  -Ann Voskamp

“He who calls you is faithful” 1 Thessalonians 5:24

Out of the pit and into the light.  Prayers of the saints carry the weary.   A renewed strength.   Eyes on the Grace Giver…Soul Saver…Kinsmen Redeemer… keeps all else in check.  Because it’s here that I realize who I am and where my hope lies.  That I am broken and busted up.  That no matter how hard I try to fix and change and organize and carry the self-sufficient torch to triumph, the light snuffs out with the smallest gust of wind.   Wrecked, I abandon all hope in myself…which proves to be the safest most beautiful place where peace clears the angst.  And I can finally give over the burden of expectation to the One sweetly waiting to take it.  Whose light will show me the way and whose torch cannot be extinguished.  

Because He is faithful.  He has walked close and carried our tender hearts and “taken account of our wanderings.  He has put our tears in His bottle –Psalm 56:8”.  Flames raging all around, but we are not on fire.  Because the Lord is with us walking in the blazing furnace, protecting and loving us (Daniel 3).  Flames only to purify and burn away dross that hinders hearts from living fully alive in Christ.   

Corrie Tem Boon in her book The Hiding Place has been teaching me so much about grace and suffering and purpose and joy.  She and her sister have been taken to a concentration camp in the heart of Germany where the atrocity is almost too much to bear.  They ask how can they get thru this?  And God had just given them their answer that morning as they had read their daily Bible reading (1 Thess 5:11-18) to hundreds of women in their barracks that was designed for 400 and held 1400.  Can. You. Imagine.  The conditions were appalling.  

“Comfort the frightened, help the weak, be patient with everyone.  See that none of us repays evil for evil, but always seek to do good to one another and to all…’”

 “Go on, “said Betsie.  “That wasn’t all.”

“Oh yes:  ‘…to one another and to all.  Rejoice always, pray constantly, give thanks in all circumstances; for this is the will of God in Christ Jesus”

“That’s it, Corrie!  That’s His answer.  ‘Give thanks in all circumstances!’  That’s what we can do.  We start right now to thank God for every single thing about this new barracks!”

I stared at her, then around me at the dark, foul-aired room.

“Such as?” I said. 

“Such as being assigned here together.”

I bit my lip. “Oh yes, Lord Jesus!”

“Such as what you’re holding in your hands.”

I looked down at the Bible.  “Yes!  Thank You, dear Lord, that there was no inspection when we entered here!  Thank you for all the women here in this room who will meet You in these pages. “

“Yes,”  said Betsie.  “Thank You for the very crowding here.  Since we’re packed so close, that many more will hear!”  She looked at me expectantly.  “Corrie!” she prodded.

“Oh, all right.  Thank You for the jammed, crammed, stuffed, packed, suffocating crowds.”

“Thank You,” Betsie went on serenely, “for the fleas and for—“

The fleas!  This was too much.  “Betsie, there’s no way even God can make me grateful for a flea.”

“’Give thanks in all circumstances,’” she quoted.  It doesn’t say ‘in pleasant circumstances.’ Fleas are a part of this place where God has put us.”

And so we stood between the piers of bunks and gave thanks for the fleas.  But this time I was sure Betsie was wrong. 

 A few pages later in the book, God shows Corrie how He had used the fleas.  Whenever they would hold their “worship” services in the barracks, reading the Bible, praying, singing softly as the Word of God was passed around in Dutch, German, French, Polish, Russian and Czech.  The guards would never enter their room.  Corrie couldn’t figure it out since they were always in every other aspect of these prisoners’ daily affairs.  Come to find out, it was the fleas!  They wouldn’t step foot in the barracks because they wanted to avoid the fleas.  And so God had shown Corrie how even the fleas had a role in bringing Hope and Truth and Saving Grace into this hellacious place.  

This book has taught me much and touched me deeply.  The miracles they witnessed and the perseverance and suffering for the Gospel is like nothing that I have ever heard or seen.  I am so thankful for their lives and their story.  They are fighting for joy and love and hope in the wake of insurmountable evil and suffering.  And what beauty was birthed from the darkness has rippled fierce and far. 

God has our family here for a reason.  This is His story.  We have been placed in the company of a group of people that are often lost and forgotten and discarded.  An amazing chance to bring good news of hope and salvation and redemption to hurting souls.  ” For the Son of Man came to seek and to save the lost.” -Luke 19:10.  He is a relentless pursuer of the rebel.  He is a Shepherd to the lost sheep who wander far from His love.  He is our great Redeemer.  He restores, renews, and heals bleeding hearts.

We need Him so desperately and sometimes it takes desperately horrible circumstances for us to finally see.  And even that is a great mercy.  For if He is all that our heart needs and longs for and nothing else on earth could ever satisfy, how good could He be if He let us go on our merry way thinking that the fleeting dying things in this life are IT?

Last weekend I went to see Rick by myself.  It’s been a very long time since we have had that much time together without any interruptions and just being able to enjoy each other and talk and laugh.  The large visiting room was crowded.  He only knew probably half of the inmates that were in there visiting with their family and friends.  He went around the room and shared story after story of these men and what he knew of their lives and families and hearts.  So much brokenness and sorrow.  Many of them have been in for years.  Serving out the remainder of a 20 year or more sentence in the camp.  You can only be in the camp if you have less than 10 years to serve, so many have been transferred from higher level security prisons to this place.  One of the things Rick was telling me is that they long for pen pals.  That is their only way of really communicating with the outside world.  Pen pals…hmmm…a seed of a thought planted.  

Their marriages are falling apart because they don’t have money to call their wives.  Their families can’t afford to travel to see them.  They have little to no contact with the outside world.  Their treatment inside the prison is of scum of the earth.  Hardening the hardened criminal.   What would it look like if there was some kind of ministry like Compassion where people are assigned a child who lives in poverty in other countries and you “sponsor” them and write to them and pray for them and encourage them.  What would it look like to start a prison ministry with something like that?  Just starting with pen pals.  Maybe putting a little money on their commissary so they can call their wives and their children.  To keep them connected to these relationships so that when they get out they will have some support and stability.  Because the government is not really interested in rehabilitation.  Their form of treatment seems to be fear and force.   

  

Rick was FINALLY seen by a doctor yesterday after over 2 weeks of waiting.  He still isn’t getting his meds.  His bad cholesterol is back up to super high levels.  They say their working on getting him the proper meds, so PLEASE PRAY for God’s swift hand in this.  He’s been sick with a cold and lost his voice.  But he has been settling into his routine and making friends and playing chess and cards and working out.  His first job was cleaning the front main lobby everyday where he whistled while he work.  But the warden thought his mopping skills were not up to par so he was fired.  He will now be working in the green house planting tomatoes and other various plants.  I like this job.  He’s not so sure.  I like that he will get to see new life spring from dark dirty earth brought on by water and light.  A sweet picture of redemption.

Rick is innovative and creative.  He’s been trying to create and organize some wellness and educational groups for the inmates that would stimulate minds and hearts and could only be positive, but has been denied all efforts.  Again, I am aghast at the lack of desire to help these people.  

I read Ann Voskamp’s book A thousand Gifts a couple of years ago and it was one of those eye opening heart changing books.  It was exactly about what Corrie and her sister are doing in their darkest hours.  Giving thanks.  And it is a discipline, especially in the overwhelming ugly circumstances, when it seems like there is nothing to be thankful for.  But as I began to start looking…I found that there were so many gifts that I had never even seen.  A whole new world of beauty and wonder all around that my thankless heart had been blind to.  And as I began to name the gifts and thank God for them, something changed.  My thoughts no longer tarried in the black tar sticky hopelessness that clings and destroys.  I felt free and full.  Full of gratefulness to my sweet Savior who loves me and gives good gifts.  Even in the dark painful pits.  I had to name them to see them.   I had to look to discover.  I had to hunt.  For beauty all around, laboring to see in the black bleak shattered spoils.  Sweet succulent splendor.  And joyful songs of praise sang my heart right out of despair.   A thirst soul-garden being watered every day.  And so much changed for me.  And although the pain is searing at times and I fall hard and get banged up….God’s truth and miracle of giving thanks and what it does to my heart, beckons.  And so the fleas that infested the bed and home of these sister prisoners who were there for helping save lives of the persecuted, reminded me again, that I can be thankful in all things….ALL things.  And God’s glory and grace will far surpass even the most horrific of circumstances.  

May we be able to live out 1Thessalonians 5:11-18 better because of it.  Because for Corrie and Betsie, it all became real right in their darkest hour.  Those ancient words on tattered pages burned right into the hearts of dying souls and changed everything.  Because the words are Living Hope.  Saving Grace.  Jesus.  

“…all new life comes out of dark places, and hasn’t it always been?  All new life labors out of the very bowels of darkness.  That fullest life itself dawns from nothing but Calvary darkness and tomb-cave black into the radiance of Easter morning.  It is suffering that has the realest possibility to bear down and deliver grace.  And grace that chooses to bear the cross of suffering overcomes that suffering.  Darkness transfigures into grace, empty transfigures into full.  God wastes nothing-‘makes everything work out according to his plan’ –Ephesians 1:11” –Ann Voskamp, One Thousand Gifts 

Taking my eyes off the storm...and a word from the inside...

“Worry does not empty tomorrow of its sorrow, it empties today of its strength.” -Corrie Ten Boom

“Never be afraid to trust an unknown future to a known God.” -Corrie Ten Boom
 
"There are no if's in God's world.  And no places that are safer than other places.  The center of His will is our only safety." -Betsie Ten Boom

As for our trip to Big Spring, seeing Rick for the first time in a long time there in his new temporary home, and enjoying those rich family moments where all of us were together, not doing anything extraordinary, but how extraordinary it was to just be together.  Talking.  Laughing.  Crying.   The next two weeks felt like a thick fog of surging emotions.  Wild waves tossing heart looking directly at the storm.  

Grey skies.  Chilled air.  Heart heavy.   Feeling like I’m treading water.  Anxious and dismayed.    And some days the swells of sorrow drench the soul.  And when the weight seems to crush and the light seems dim, I feel spent…powerless… parched.  Gripping fear.  Mind stuck on the what if’s.  Consumed by reality of not being in control and feeling like a mess of failure in the parenting department because I simply cannot be their all and fix their brokenness and rescue them from the hurling pain of life’s carnage.  

New fears weigh heavy.  He’s still not getting his proper medication.  He has to have his meds to keep his heart healthy, but they literally could care less.  One day he started having an irregular heartbeat but there’s no one there to monitor his condition.  I’ve tried calling his attorney who says there’s really not much we can do at this point but bother them.  It’s difficult to get anyone on the phone at the prison and when I do, they just pass the buck.  I’ve had his medical records from his cardiologist sent there for the doctor to review, but that hasn’t made a dent.  He has some kind of rash on his skin that some of the other inmates suffer from as well that itches like crazy and he’s put in a “call” to be bee seen by the physician, but it could take days if not weeks.   He has some new unusual bruising on his legs.  How can I see through the darkness when all I see is disaster ahead?  As if I know the future.  As if I have any power over life and death.  

And then there’s my kids.  One of them is struggling with rushing through his work to get it turned in first as if it’s a race and his grades are falling and I don’t know how to teach an 8 year old to slow down, pay attention to detail, check over his work, and use the tools his teacher has given him to get the answers right.  It’s not a matter of knowing the right answer, because he does, it’s a matter of using the tools he’s been given and applying them in the most important of times.  

Convicted…I’ve been wrought with fear and worry and feeling sick that I can’t change or help or make these people give my husband his life saving medication as if really that medication is the thing that will save his life.  Because the reality is he is not less safe at that place than he would be at home.  The good Lord holds his precious life.  He gives him breath and health and He sustains.  Not the medication, the circumstances, the doctors.  And yet even as this truth gleams clarity in my heart, there is a very large part of me that has a hard time letting go of that need to control.  And yet it holds me hostage.  Ironically I am not in control when I’m being controlled by my fear and worries. 

What good is fear?  The worried kind of fear.  Dazed, paralyzing, anguishing worry.  All sending a heart down deep into a pit.  And here is where I’m like my son.  Even though I have the weapons to combat the dragon, I can’t pick up my sword.  Stunned at the beast I simply look at the horror.  And all the overwhelming circumstances that seem bleak.  I start to believe the lie that I can’t do it.  I’ll fail.  I am failing.  In the day to day.  Messes mounting by the second, wild excitement with nerf swords swinging, an animal instinct to claim toys as one’s own and to protect them at all costs, even if it entails violence, having to remind over and over and over again to pick up clothes and brush teeth and clean up plates and do homework.  Does anyone else have a hard time maintaining order in their home?  Or maybe my expectations are just unreasonable...

Feeling weak and defeated and unable...at the end of myself…I remember to PRAY.  How could I have been neglecting my Life source for so long???  I have been too busy trying to do His job, a job much too big for me to handle, that I didn’t even realize I’m sinking in the mess of it.  Kinda like Peter when Jesus called him to walk to Him on the water…

Then Peter got down out of the boat, walked on the water and came toward Jesus. ³⁰ But when he saw the wind, he was afraid and, beginning to sink, cried out, “Lord, save me!”

³¹ Immediately Jesus reached out his hand and caught him. “You of little faith,” he said, “why did you doubt?”

³² And when they climbed into the boat, the wind died down. ³³ Then those who were in the boat worshiped him, saying, “Truly you are the Son of God.”  ~Matthew 14:29-33

I love how it says immediately.  Peter cries out for help and Jesus “immediately” reaches out to save him.   And I love how God shows us the follies of His closest companions who walked the earth with Him in the flesh and witnessed miracles…they too succumbed to fear in the presence of an ominous storm.  

This is a journey.  I constantly have to be reminded of that.  For my feet want so desperately to plant themselves on safe ground and throw my tent of comfort up and bury myself in a warm blanket and stay inside where the elements won’t hurt.  Buy there is no tent here and the path is wrought with pitfalls and unexpected turns and steep daunting mountains and dark thick valleys.  And my heart has to stay alert.  Eyes on the Light so I can see where I’m going and take in my daily manna and cry out for my Savior who will carry me through this storm.  And at the end of this chapter, I believe with all my heart that I wouldn’t have had it any other way.  Because His work is good and beautiful and right.  

One of the things I decided to do this last week was pick up a book about a book about a woman, a family who faced some of the most horrible circumstances that have ever been known to man, the Holocaust.  The book is called The Hiding Place by Corrie Ten Boom.  They are gold medal winners when it comes to suffering and living out the gospel and I wanted to see what that looked like.  Be still my soul.  I am so humbled by their faith and love and courage and sacrifice.  They were part of an operation in Holland that saved thousands of Jews from extermination.  And a few of the members of the Ten Boom family paid the ultimate price for relentlessly helping these persecuted souls and loving them well and serving them well and it has shredded my heart.  Something so horrible did not deter their fight for joy and their faith in God.   “There is no pit so deep that God’s love is not deeper still.”  Corrie Ten Boom  

Her life and ministry went on to greatly impact the world.  For the Glory of God and for the good of so many.  And the Lord has graciously begun to show me where he is at work on the inside.  These are two letters I have received from inmates that have been in prison with Rick.  

First letter:

Rick,

It’s January 16^th and I have another court hearing tomorrow.  Yes, still in Pod #3!  After you left, the pod turned over so there are all new people here.  S finally went to the hole and is in pod #6 now so it is much quieter in here.  The reason why I wrote is to say thank you to you and your family for all that you did for me.  I also wanted to tell you that I finally started reading my Bible with G, LD, and Mr.S.  We have Bible study each day after lunch and I have now read the New Testament at least 3 times and am still trying to get through the Old Testament.  Mr. S caught chain the first week of December and should be home by now and LD got rolled out about a week ago and is in Pod#6 with S.  So you might be surprised to hear that G and I have kept the Bible study going and the prayer call at night.  I have reaffirmed my relationship with God and feel great!  Thank you again for that also.  Watching you, LD, G, and Al study the word somehow got me to reading my Bible as opposed to just using it as a Prison address book and it has changed my life.  As I get ready for court tomorrow I can honestly say that I have very little worries about the outcome and just look forward to each day God gives to me.  I can still take probation and walk out of here any day or two years at the state prison and be out within a month on parole, but God has not told me to do that yet.  I have been blessed with mail from my ex wife and photo’s of my kids.  I hope this letter finds you blessed and in good spirits.  Also, one more time, many thanks to you, your spouse, and your sister for contacting my family and making it possible for me to contact my kids.  God Bless you all and I hope you are home with them soon.  

Portion of Second Letter (this was to me):

Rick is a great guy all around.  Since I was in jail my wife didn't have much money to send me while I was in.  Rick never let me go without anything.  He would share food with me when I was out; he even gave me a phone card once to call my wife.  I didn't have the luxury of calling my wife everyday and he made that possible with the phone card he gave me.  It doesn't seem like much probably, but inside things like that are huge.  He would even give me coffee and have me hand it to others who didn't have any. His condition of giving me the coffee was to share it, and not tell anyone I got it from him.  Super nice guy!  I didn't talk to many of the other inmates while I was in, but I hung out with Rick all I could.  We are both from Florida by the way.  He also let me read the blogs you sent him.  Tonight I will read all the blogs you have written and get updated on him.  I guess he finally left Denton? I also want to stay in touch because I told him I would. In jail you tell people you will stay in touch but in reality you don't.  Not to say I'm any better than the other inmates but the majority of them aren't going to change their lives, and I don't want to associate with that.  I know Rick is a good guy so he is the only one I have decided to stay in contact with.