The grass was that lovely Texas winter gray, a long, bleak strip of ground leading from the empty highway to the concrete complex. The occasional colorful marker or arranged stone symbol reminded one of the institution that operated such a place, the State of Texas. Not surprisingly, the parking lot contained only a smattering of vehicles. Who in their right minds would want to spend such a warm day in such a cold place? I was quietly escorted through the heavy doors into the processing area where a guard asked for my license and unlocked the holding bay. Any attempted subtlety in moving through the complex was impossible. The cumbersome bars swung quickly and sent a reverberating thud through the halls as the thick metal collided. The intercom prompted my continued escort across a small outdoor courtyard and into the central unit. The halls were utterly silent except for the occasional footsteps of guards dispassionately passing me through the main hall. However, as we turned the corner, a sound not commonly associated with imprisonment entered my ears. The deep and joyous voices of a men's choir echoed from the prison chapel. As I entered, the lively eyes a hundred men in dull lime colored jackets immediately turned to welcome the newcomer into their merry makeshift celebration. One would think that day would be especially dismal for those enclosed and separated from family and home, but no, it was a Christmas morning just like any other.
For the sake of small talk, most all of us attempt to break the silence of reacquaintance upon returning from the Christmas break by questioning others as to how they entertained themselves during the holidays. I wondered what their reaction would be once I assuredly replied that I had spent Christmas morning in prison.
This year, my father began working with a prison program that focuses on ministering to inmates of local state prisons. The length of sentences ranges from 6 months to 3 years and this course selects from a highly competitive field of inmates for a almost constant program of positive resocialization and spiritual immersion. (fancy words for a prison based ministry) It was something entirely new for my dad, but through our conversations over the semester, it seemed as if it was something that engaged him and kept him active in "the greater work." Because of this, I was more than obliged to accompany him to a Christmas morning service at the unit and meet the men that had kept him so busy.
It was an amusing thing to be getting up a 6 on Christmas morning; I hadn't done that since I was maybe 8 years old. For most of my teenaged years I was the sibling who refused to get out of bed and was accused by all the younger tots of prolonging their wonderful tree-side memories. Now look who's returning the favor...
We were a little late to the service, but none of that mattered to the fellow attendees. We were showered with numerous smiles, waves of the hand, and verbal, welcoming proclamations. Apparently, my father was quite the celebrity. The makeshift choir sung many of that standard hymns of the season, the chief pastor gave a short sermon, and a former convict got up and shared his path to prison and the grace of God that freed him from the greater prison of sin. But perhaps the most enjoyable aspect of the morning was the meal shared after the service.
With a table full of every breakfast pastry known to man and a chapel full of hungry men who were rarely exposed to such modern day delicacies, it wasn't surprising that the provided napkins were loaded high with the "less than traditional" goodies. I made the rounds about the room as everyone wanted a quick word with the instructor's son. Where I went to school and what I was studying came up often; there was a consensus that if I weren't playing basketball, I should be.
It became apparent that I was talked about a lot in class, maybe because I'm college and entering that "prime of youth," I'm not sure. I can only guess that it provided my dad with another ally of conversation. And it certainly sounded like the many topics reached all ranges of... propriety. Maybe you catch my drift, but they're issues that come up frequently, so why not address them? These guys may have been spiritually young and still fighting to conform to starkly different values, but it was hard to resist their charisma.
As we began to leave, I noticed that flatness of our rear tire and so a necessary maintenance session soon ensued in the largely empty prison parking lot. I couldn't complain about the company; the family band who had provided some entertainment made sure to lend their assistance and share a quick visit. Through all if it I couldn't help but chuckle inside; this was certainly a unique Christmas, and I rather liked it.
We soon got a call from my younger brother who was fed up with waiting on our morning escapades and wanted to get to his unwrapping; it's was too bad he wasn't having the fun we were. It has been a few Christmases since I really cared about gifts that much, or at least for those weeks leading up to big day; that seemed to have left by around mid-high school. I still try to put together some kind of list, but that's mostly to get everyone off my back as I stumble through my wants. I have so few needs. This Christmas only confirmed that even more. I went through those few years of full on rebellion and disdain for all that is modern day Christmas, but now, all that's behind me. I don't mind playing along with the traditions because I get a sense of meaning from something that is deeper.
This last Christmas has been an example to me of how much my family has changed, or maybe how much I have changed; perhaps it's a little of both. I think we all as adolescents have to go through those awkward years, when those infamous family meetings or activities utterly disgust us and the prospect of getting along with siblings is a lost cause. Those rates of maturity never matched up and though none of us were willing to admit it, we all had some serious growing up to do. I've always gotten along with my oldest sister, but those two youngest fist throwers? You can forget us ever engaging in intelligent conversation...
Maybe it's that we need some distance and a different point of view, or maybe those young ones freak out once big brother leaves the nest and are compelled to step up and fill the roles? Again, maybe a little of both, but for the first time in my memory I enjoy my entire family's company and would have no problem spending the entire day with them. That maturity level that tortuously lagged behind for my entire life at home is starting to catch up and I welcome the company.
I heard so many college "acquaintances" who hated their Christmas break, and it's because of this that I thank God continuously for giving me a family that enjoys itself and for giving me a humbler perspective and a chance to see what's really important this last Christmas. (that sounded like a Hallmark card, bleh) This feeling might wear over a longer period of time, we'll have to see what summer brings; it's only a month away.
