Letters from Jail #5* Part 3 of 3

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The following are excerpts from letters I wrote while serving a 360-day sentence in Hopkins County Jail in Kentucky. Normally, I edit and arrange the material for readability, but this month I offer it to you in chronological order with little editing.

My purpose for these excerpts is to: first recognize the grace of God under very different circumstances, open a window into my thoughts and struggles that may relate to yours, and hope that you may be moved to empathize for the jailed and mentally ill.

June 15, 2013

I was greatly saddened today. Tears have come to my eyes several times. My mood is melancholy. I think it is the loneliness that stalks me. When I left for college in January of 1978 at 17, I never got homesick. I’ve always been independent and my attachments to people and places are not that strong. But, after about three months, I fell into my parents’ arms crying. They were playing, “Will the Circle be Unbroken” – the first time I had heard the song. I thought of my brothers and made my way to my parents. We prayed together and I cried.

The guys in the cell have suddenly taken an interest in my writing. They want to know how I portray them. Most are here for drug charges. Their lives revolve around getting drunk or high. Some appear to be genuinely nice people who are enslaved by their addiction. Jail is routine for them.

It’s Father’s Day. The chaplain had to leave so we couldn’t have church. I really look forward to going. It’s a visible witness to the cell. Many of them read their Bibles, read devotionals, pray over their meals, but they don’t pray or go to church. I wonder how many church goers don’t do the amount these men do? Of course, they cuss, relish telling about their crimes, and lust over every female that comes on the screen.

It’s Father’s Day. I miss my children and grandchildren. The two oldest had a decent father, the grandchildren had a decent grandfather, but A_____ missed out. Most of the time I was too sick to be much of a father. During the other times, there was always conflict. I tried harder to instill a spiritual foundation in him and took a strong interest in his spiritual development. That has paid off.

A_____’s actions in cutting me off and not making any effort to contact me disturbs me. He needs to respond in a Christian way. I still believe he will.

The Wounded Healer concluded oddly, I thought, but I liked the emphasis on one aspect. The experiences of the leader and the more s/he immerses himself in the painful condition of humanity, the more qualified she is to lead others to the Kingdom of God. This is one of my desert experiences. Perhaps someday, somehow, I will get to use it to lead another out of their desert experience.

Father’s Day can be difficult for some. Feelings of loneliness, sadness, and heaviness may accompany the day. As a pastor, I was always aware that the holidays were not always so bright for everyone.

I watched the NASCAR race today and the cell is getting ready to watch the NBA finals.

I find myself saying, “I used to be…” I used to be a foster care therapist. I used to be a mental health counselor. I used to be a substance abuse counselor. I used to be a minister. A long time ago I’m so glad I discovered who I really am – a person made in the image and likeness of God, redeemed by the blood of the Lamb. I do wonder what I’m going to “do,” though.

I’m doing well.

Sincerely,

Jay

May the LORD be with you.

*Because of the length of this letter, I have divided it into three posts. Monday, November 27, 2017, Wednesday November 29, 2017 and Friday December 1, 2017. Thank you for reading.

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Letters from Jail #5 Part 2 of 3*

The following are excerpts from letters I wrote while serving a 360-day sentence in Hopkins County Jail in Kentucky. Normally, I edit and arrange the material for readability, but this month I offer it to you in chronological order with little editing.

My purpose for these excerpts is to: first recognize the grace of God under very different circumstances, open a window into my thoughts and struggles that may relate to yours, and hope that you may be moved to empathize for the jailed and mentally ill.

hopkins_jail_edited_front_cropped_resized1

June 14, 2013

It’s about 3:30 AM. Once again, I’m wide awake – actually I haven’t been to sleep. My thoughts are filled with prayers on the behalf of others and for my own concerns. It’s quiet except for an occasional turning and snoring.

Yesterday, I started reading a short book called, The Wounded Healer. I’d heard of it but never before read it. The author writes of compassion as being able to feel the joy and sorrow of others as if they were your own. He states that compassion is being able to recognize yourself in the actions of others – good or bad. I don’t suppose he meant we literally had to go to jail to feel empathy for the prisoner, but here I am. (lol) I like the quote, “Those who avoid the painful encounter with the unseen are doomed to live a supercilious, boring, and superficial life.” No one would accuse me of having a “boring” life. : )

In your last letter, you spoke of being a “simple” person. Yet, I find you deep in faith, profound in wisdom, and beautiful in character. Simplicity is awe inspiring when adorned with grace. You have a generous kindness and an utter selflessness about you. Your gift of seeing to the heart of people’s pain and nursing them with empathy is so engaging. Your ability to bring comfort to a hurting soul and ease an awkward moment is wonderful. You listen without judgement and correct without condemnation. Perhaps, you are without complexity, but it is the most beautiful and attractive simplicity I have ever observed.

My brother stopped by yesterday to take care of practical things. He is now my POA. Poor guy, I gave him a four-page to-do-list. He also said that my divorce attorney has received a proposal. I’m inclined to give her what she wants.

My children are still alienated from my side of the family. Thank you for praying for them. A_____ is preparing for the ministry and I don’t want him to have a black hole in his soul.

Pastor Ron H_____ came by today and I was able to ask him to intervene on my behalf regarding the work program. He appeared to understand and said he would do what he could. God’s will be done. Contentment till then.

How blessed I am. In the book I’m reading the author wrote, “No man can stay alive when nobody is waiting for him.” Again, “A man can keep his sanity…as long as there is at least one person who is waiting for him.” I have you, R_____, my brothers, R_____, and others. Thank God.

Sincerely,

Jay

May the LORD be with you.

*Because of the length of this letter, I have divided it into three posts. Monday November 27, 2017, Wednesday November 29, 2017 and Friday December 1, 2017. Thank you for reading.

Letters from Jail #5 Part 1 of 3

The following are excerpts from letters I wrote while serving a 360-day sentence in Hopkins County Jail in Kentucky. Normally, I edit and arrange the material for readability, but this month I offer it to you in chronological order with little editing.

My purpose for these excerpts is to: first recognize the grace of God under very different circumstances, open a window into my thoughts and struggles that may relate to yours, and hope that you may be moved to empathize for the jailed and mentally ill.

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June 13, 2013

I didn’t get back to the cell until late, therefore I didn’t write as much today.

Thank you for your prayers. I’ve learned that prayer is more than a session at morning and night, although that is important. Prayer is a relationship with the Heavenly Father all day long. There was a statement I read today that I liked, “Prayer is not a pious decoration of life, but the breath of human existence.” It lifts my spirit to know that others are praying for me.

Last night I talked to the chaplain about not getting to work. (For every day you work, you get a day off your sentence.) He said he would speak on my behalf. But, I’m content whatever the outcome. My brother told me it was the nature of my offense. (During a dissociative episode, I attacked two police officers.) He called the jail on my behalf, too. It’s in God’s hands.

Thank you for praying that this may be a time of healing and rest for me. It is peaceful except for the constant noise of the T.V., but rest comes easily. As for my healing – well? The battle between forgiveness and bitterness remains won as long as I don’t dwell on the offense or create alternative scenarios in my mind. The “old timers” used to talk about putting things on the altar and leaving them there. I find my hurts want to crawl off and I have to put them back on the altar. The more attentive I am to my sacrifice the quicker it is consumed by His holy flames.

Healing for some areas continues to elude me. I seek healing for the things that contribute to my depression. Sometimes I wonder if I should not embrace it. The Apostle Paul had his thorn that was at once his greatest weakness and his most glorious strength. I find depression is that for me. But, somehow there has to be a way to control the deeper and darker moments. (See II Corinthians 12:7-10.)

Healing of conscience is also an area in which I struggle. Often, I replay past sins and failures hoping for a different outcome. Then, when I realize that, in spite of my best efforts, it ends the same, I question my standing with God. However, I would rather be too conscientious than hardened to my deeds and my human condition.

Sincerely,

Jay

May the LORD be with you. 

*Because of the length of this letter, I have divided it into three posts. Monday November 27, 2017, Wednesday November 29, 2017 and Friday December 2, 2017. Thank you for reading.

Letters from Jail # 4

The following are excerpts from letters I wrote while serving a 360-day sentence in county lock-up. I have edited and arranged the material for readability. Headings have been added to make it easier to transition from one thought to another.

Began: June 4, 2013

My Quest for Spiritual Renewal:      I finished the book, The Jesus I Never Knew, by Phillip Yancy today. In it was a quote from J. Moltman (from Germany) I thought was helpful. “God weeps with us so that we may someday laugh with Him.”

Yancy wrote in another of his books that pain is a gift. Through pain we grow. Without it there would be no invention, no discovery, no adventure, no growth. If managed correctly, stress is actually healthy. But, I know what you mean. We want our needs satisfied and room enough to make a mistake now and then. We want our children to follow God, make good choices, and be physically sound. Keep on dreaming; that’s good, too.

I found a small book by John Wesley in the library. It’s on prayer. I’m also reading The Case for Faith by Lee Strobel. The truth I grabbed onto is, there’s always someone worse off than you are. It is helping me to quit feeling sorry for myself and start the healing process.

My brother wrote me. He said he hoped this could be a time of healing. Perhaps. When I can rest without the intrusion of yesterday’s problems, I will know I am healed. I feel no bitterness, but I know when I talk about it there is still lingering pain. Maybe healing isn’t the absence of pain as much as it is the absence of gull. There are a lot of things I wish I could forget.

In another chapter of The Case for Faith, Strobel deals with faith and doubt co-existing. I’ve struggled with this. He says this is common among melancholy personalities. It goes on to say we must make a decision to believe. “The decision to follow the best light you have about God and not quit.” I choose God. I choose to believe. I choose faith.

 In Search of Meaning:     Today, I’m having a hard time believing in myself. My faith is weak. The storms are beating against my house. With such a severe storm, I know I will not go unharmed, but the foundation holds.

Sometimes I think I over analyze things and then end up doubting. Such is the case today. With some difficult news and uncomfortable reading, I find myself in a funk. I waver between faith and worry about the “what ifs.”

I struggle to accept that the man I was for 10 minutes has so dramatically changed the man I am. I must rehab the reputation, spirit and soul of the man I was for 10 minutes in order to save the reputation, spirit, and soul of the man I am. Does that make sense?

How many times have we heard, “I’m a bigger and better person for having endured it and persevered?” I know I’ve said it. I pray that this experience will teach me compassion toward the helpless and hopeless. To borrow from the 12 Steps: “Having experienced God at my point of need” I will emerge a changed person enabled to bring the message of Jesus to others with more compassion and insight. Others hearts may be healed because I have been broken.

Attempts to Make Amends:     The temptation to bitterness is strong. The desire to hurt is present. But I exercise my will to forgive and I refuse to nurse a grudge. Victory is within reach, but it is the finality of resignation, the death of revenge, the defeat of willfulness that wins.

Some people from one of the churches I pastored came by to see me today. They said they wanted me back as their pastor as soon as I got out of jail. Such nice people.

My brother sent a letter to A_____, as did I. May his heart be tender and responsive.

Thoughts about my Failed Marriage:     It’s 3:00 AM and I’m wide awake. I feel stronger today although I had a rough dream last night. It was one of those “if only” dreams that creates doubts and questions commitments. Dream analysis is not one of my things, but one interpretation of my dream could be the utter hopelessness of a lost cause. Why do we keep on fighting when the bell has rung?

I wanted a marriage. I worked for it, fought for it, prayed for it, but it was doomed. The foundation was flawed and could not be fixed without help. A person is just on a hike without followers. I wanted to grow old with one spouse in one marriage “till death us do part.” But, such was not to be.

Divorce will bring some sense of finality. However, I don’t want to delude myself into believing there will be no more personal struggle.

Legal Issues:     My official charges came today. Five charges of 2nd degree wanton endangerment. Two charges of 4th degree assault. One charge of resisting arrest and one charge of disorderly conduct. The first seven charges carry 360 days each, the next 180 days, and the last 90 days – all to be served concurrently. Oh, how could I/did I let myself get sucked in to a point of losing control? I was 11 years old the last time I got physical with anyone.

The Judge is requiring that I take anger management. I don’t need it; I need mood management. I know it’s much easier when you’re stable. Also, it’s much better when you can identify your mood.

Institutional Behavior:     The cell was loud today. The guys watch sci-fi movies, food shows, car shows, and the occasional soap-drama to spice things up. I’m not much interested except when the news comes on between 7:00 and 8:00 PM.

The food here is of poor standard, poor quality, poor quantity, and poorly prepared. We have elbow macaroni with mac and cheese, mac and spaghetti, mac and alfredo sauce, and mac and goulash. When I get out of here I don’t want to see elbow macaroni on my plate ever again.

I was coming out of the shower yesterday with nothing on but my boxers, and there stood a female guard. I didn’t even look twice. I just went about my business. Normally, I would have dived for cover, but then this isn’t normal.

Some of these guys have been in and out of jail so many times that their families have given up on them. Some don’t even have anyone to call. It’s sad.

When my depression sets in I feel helpless, worthless. You can’t cry openly in jail, but I cry silently inside.

May the LORD be with you,

Jay

*Known as the Wesleyan Quadrilateral

Letters from Jail # 3

Image result for spirituality in jail*The following are excerpts from letters I wrote while serving a 360-day sentence in county lock-up. I have edited and arranged the material for readability.

 

 

 

 

Began:  May 29, 2013

It has been a rough day. My mood is mildly depressed. Incredibly, my moods have been exceptionally stable considering where I find myself. This is not how I planned spending 2013. My brother said he thought I would emerge stronger. More compassion, experience, and wisdom perhaps, but stronger? I don’t know.

A quadriplegic man once told me I was the most compassionate man he’d ever met. I guess when you have gone through the losses and pain I have experienced you either become cynical or more humane. I’ve chosen the later.

God has used the difficult circumstances in my life to make me more understanding. This experience is definitely a teaching moment, but it is hard to imagine overcoming the criminal element (label). How can I speak with authority? How can Christ be glorified when I’ve made such a mess of things?

It’s hard to know how to feel about being in jail. How can God use this experience? What do I have to learn?

Providence can be defined as cooperating with the grace of God to bring about the highest good and the least evil. I’m not finished cooperating with His grace. I want God to “make something beautiful out of my (messed-up, flawed, imperfect) life.”

I’m rereading The Jesus I Never Knew by Phillip Yancy. He talks about blessed mourners. They are blessed because they are comforted. Thank God for those who have come along and helped. They are blessed because they have hope. We weep not as those who have no hope. They are blessed because they help others. “Wounded healers” know how to help others heal. Those who are comforted know how to comfort others.

The Bible study was poor again. They’re into numerology and sensationalism. It’s tough to go, but I fear my witness will be damaged if I don’t.

One of the men just told me that if I started a church he would attend. I took that as a great compliment. Another man and I talked for some time about loss and the impression negative comments have on our self-image. A new, young guy came in wanting to change his life. I pointed him toward Jesus. Two of these men went to church with me today.

I gave my brother Power-of-Attorney (POA). I signed the papers yesterday. He will pay my bills. I have legal and hospital bills to pay. I hate debt, but somehow, I will crawl out from under it. When I get out I hope to have enough left to get started again.

I’m not staying in Kentucky any longer than necessary. My future is elsewhere. I may go back to Anderson for a while. My brother, J____, is there and a lot of other family.

As I laid in my rack waiting for 4:00 AM med call, my mind turned to my son, A____. I thought, “I could write him.” Please pray with me that I will say the right things and he will receive it. I miss my children and long to reconnect with them.

W____, I’m sure you don’t have a corner on wavering. We all go from mountain movers to doubters, often in the same day. Perseverance is the key.

Tomorrow I will get my hair cut, beard trimmed, and nails clipped. Since I wasn’t allowed to have long hair as a teen I thought I would let it grow until I get out. But, it’s too hard to take care of so I’m cutting it really short. I’m ready to quit shaving. We’re only allowed to shave twice a week with an electric razor that everyone has to use. My nails are longer than they’ve ever been. I hate ‘em. I can’t stand long nails on men. It’s been almost three weeks; I can hardly wait to cut them off.

I’m falling into a routine. I call us “Pavlov’s dogs” because every time the lights come on we know it’s time for a neat trick. lol.

One of our group was released today. Several of the guys stood at the door throwing his things into the hall. Some of the long termers appear depressed. It was an interesting experience to observe. The sad part is the guy will be back. He’s a 12-year-old boy in a 56-year-old body. He has no clue how to live that does not involve drugs, alcohol, sex, and partying.

Reframing is the process of seeing a problem or situation from a different angle. I’m not in jail, I live in a $10 million-dollar home with my own personal security system and detail. My food is prepared in my own kitchen and delivered to my room. I have laundry service, an indoor and outdoor recreation area, nursing staff, and a chaplain that comes twice a week. So many things are provided I never have to leave my home. (Laugh or cry. You’ve got to laugh or cry.)

Only 48 weeks to go. Club Madisonville appears to be working, I have lost 12 pounds. I may come out of here with six-pack abs. : )

Sincerely,

Jay

The LORD be with you.

Letters from Jail #2*

Began on 05/23/2013

I have made the local TV news for two days now. The paper reported that I was doing very good against the two police officers before being tasered. Those two whipper-snappers should have thought twice before picking on an old, fat man. Honestly, I remember very little. (I had a dissociative episode and didn’t know what I had done until the police told me.) I guess all that fighting I have done in my sleep all these years finally paid off. Laugh or cry, you have to laugh or cry.

Reportedly, my reputation is known. The chaplain knows me as the well-educated minister. The guards know me as the guy who took on two policemen. My cell-mates know me as the naïve rookie. I just pray that Jay is not lost and the Jay in Christ overcomes all the other reputations.

I’ve been thinking about my jail experience. The conclusion I’ve come to is, jail experiences can be placed into three categories: noble, accidental, and nefarious. People who go to jail for a cause – persecution, political, or civil disobedience – can be called noble. That is true regardless if we agree with their cause or not. Accidental is obvious – the innocent, misidentified, etc. The criminal element, like me, would be the nefarious.

It’s hard for me to think of myself as criminal or to take responsibility for my actions alone. What I did was wrong, but there were so many mitigating circumstances that few, if any, could not imagine themselves responding in the same or a similar way. Am I making excuses? Am I avoiding responsibility?

If I could’ve proven my side, I could’ve walked away a free man. But, they had all the evidence on their side and my “victims” looked more pitiable. I took the deal, not because I was guilty of all they accused me, but because I had no defense. (I asked my lawyer to plead me “not guilty by reason of mental disease or defect,” but he told me it was almost impossible to prove in Kentucky.)

Rather than being in jail for a crime, I’ll think of it as “forced rest.” This will be the Years of Jubilee I have missed. After 39 years of ministry, I needed a sabbatical. Also, I could think of jail as “Club Madisonville.” My very own weight loss program. Exercise, proportional meals, no snacks . . . that ought to equal 50 lbs. of weight loss over a year

I have prayed for forgiveness. Forgiveness for not being strong enough to walk away. For attempting to direct my treatment when others could see clearer than I. For holding the material possessions of this world dear enough to fight over. (I don’t know how to pray about the fight, because I have almost no memory of it.) For not respecting God-ordained civil authority. _____

I had a real battle with pride yesterday. During Wednesday night Bible study, I couldn’t decide whether to use my knowledge or stay mostly mute. Finally, I decided to embrace who God has made me in Christ Jesus and use my talents for Him. It was a palpable moment for me, but I think I made the right choice.

Sunday is coming. I love the Lord’s Day – celebration, worship, festival, and holiday all in one. The services here have not been professional or well done. It appears a lot who go are looking for “friends” or to just get out of the cell for a while. Wednesday Bible study was chaotic and shallow.

Church today was the same as last week right down to the sermon. The man seems to care, though, and is upbeat. _____

I received a termination letter today from the agency where I worked. As firing letters go, it was the best I’ve ever received . . . It’s the only one I’ve ever received. They were nice and caring.

I received two cards today. One was from my brother and the other from my former boss. He said he was praying for me and offered to help in any way he could. _____

A couple of nights ago it got real quiet in the dorm, just in time for me to start talking in my sleep. “We’re not talking about it anymore,” I said. Everyone laughed and the quiet did not return for some time. One guy told me I better never do anything serious because I talk too much in my sleep.

Pray with me that I will learn the jail culture without losing myself. I need a conscience for this road I’ve never traveled. One guy is “mentoring” me. He said I was very naïve.

My day at a glance:

12-12:30 AM      Blood pressure checks. We all march down to the nurse. Like the rest of me, my BP has been near perfect. (A small attempt at humor.)

4-4:15 AM           Morning meds. I think the Risperidone I’m on is really helping to stabilize my mood.

5-6:00 AM           Breakfast . . . pancakes, oatmeal, or biscuits and gravy with fruit and juice.

6-7:00 AM           Devotions. Right now I’m in Mark and Psalms of a morning and Proverbs at night.

7-8:00 AM           Clean-up. Shower, brush teeth. We don’t change clothes but once a week. Although I change my skivvies more often. (TMI)

8-12:00 PM         I rest, read, and write. I’m rereading The Jesus I Never Knew by Phillip Yancy.

12-1:00 PM         Lunch

1-4:00 PM           Rest, read, and write. On MWF we are allowed one hour of recreation in the “yard.” Oh, the feel of the sun.

4-4:15 PM           Evening meds.

4:15-6:00 PM     Rest, read, and write.

6-7:00 PM           Clean-up. Sweep, clean restroom, mop.

7-8:00 PM           Supper

8-12:00 AM        Rest, read, and write. Reading from Proverbs.

Sunday is church and visitations.   Monday and Friday is court if you have a date before the judge.   Wednesday, I receive a visit from a local pastor. Bible study. Library night.   Wednesday and Saturday is wash day for whites.   Thursday and Monday is wash day for uniforms. We all sit around in our boxers until the uniforms are cleaned and returned. Uncomfortable!   Mail and concessions come in the morning, M-F. _____

Sometimes, I can’t help but think that much of my life has been a mistake in light of the way things have turned out. But, I must trust in the LORD. Some of it has been my failure. Some, the failure of others. Some, a combination of the two.

Jay

*I have edited and arranged the material from my letters for readability.

 

Letters from Jail: #1

The following is excerpts from letters I wrote while serving a 360-day sentence in county lock-up. I edited and arranged the material for readability.

Began on 05/18/2013

Image result for letters from jailIt is my first opportunity to write; I had no paper until now. It is in pencil because that is all we’re allowed – they are those little golf pencils that are too small for big hands.

My first few days have been uneventful. The dorm holds ten men and has one restroom and one shower. I can change my clothes and bed sheets once a week. With that, I’m not sure what the point of a shower is, but I guess some semblance of civilization must prevail.

There are eight other guys in here. One is a reader, cites and writes poetry, and appears very intelligent. Another controls the T.V. remote, changing the channels frequently. The rest sleep much of the day. If I could record the variety of snores coming from this room of men, perhaps I could produce one of those Jingle Bells recordings – you know, like the dogs barking. I can’t lay in the bunk all day, reading and writing have become my refuge.

The tedium is suffocating – three meals, morning and evening medication calls, and a midnight walk down the hall to get my blood pressure checked. The only break in the monotony of the day is when the guards come through the dorm on their hourly bed check. I hope to get involved in work, church, and/or Bible study.

After midnight blood pressure check, the dorm comes to life with activity. Showers, T.V., visiting with each other, card games, and reading. This goes on until 1:30 or 2:00 AM or until the guard in central control turns off the T.V.

One of the men gave me a Bible until the chaplain sent me one I could have for myself. It’s an NIV (New International Version), which was what I was reading at home. Reading is tough amidst the constant noise of the T.V.  Prayer is even tougher. Sometimes God seems close, but most of the time He feels far away. I’m trying to read a Psalm and a chapter from Proverbs each day. I’m also reading from Mark.

I’ve been writing a list of events and happenings over the past 35 years for which to repent of, ask forgiveness for, and to forgive others for. The act of writing them all down gives me an opportunity to pray about each one and to release any anger that I may have about them. I need forgiveness, a sense of release from my guilt, and peace in my heart, mind, and soul. Pray with me that “no root of bitterness” will spring up in me. I don’t want to hate or despise anyone.

My mood yesterday was depressed. It seems I overcome one battle of forgiveness only to face another. Two more things came up in court. I didn’t contest either one, although I thought parts of the first were unfair; and all I can say about the second is, “Good luck!” (More was disclosed here than I feel free to share for the sake of others.) You see my struggle to forgive when hurt keeps coming, but forgive I must. Yesterday morning I felt free, today I am attempting to break free of these chains.

Why can’t it be easier, but then again, if forgiveness was easy God would not have required the blood of Jesus. Battle must be part of the victory. In battle you discover both your weaknesses and strengths. What can I say? I must march forward. I dare not go back or stay stagnate. I’m reminded of what Jesus told Peter, 70 times seven. Seventy times seven, Jay.

I don’t know how I got here. I was too weak, too emotionally drained, too mentally spent, too sick to walk away. I broke one of my fundamental principles – don’t fight over material things. Too tightly did I hang onto the loaves and fishes and missed the message of Jesus as He passed by. It begs the question; do we own our possessions or do our possessions own us? Help me pray.

It is the Lord’s Day and I just got back from church. There is no singing, but one man gave a really good testimony. I’m not sure where the chaplain got his training, but he leaves a lot to be desired. Today, he had The Lord’s Prayer at the end of Matthew and Pentecost on Thursday. I feel sorry for the men in here if that’s all the spiritual instruction they get. Whatever his faults, though, he appears to have a good rapport with them.

My brother came to see me today. If we’d had a gavel it could have been a real business meeting. There are so many things to do. So many decisions to make.

Goodbye for now. Pray for hearts to be softened towards me and that I would forgive and be forgiven.

Sincerely,

Jay