Walking In Faith

Yesterday we went back up to Eloy to see Andy with the thought that we would visit from 1-3:30 because a few weeks ago I had signed up for the missionaries to eat dinner with us, not knowing Saturday is the day we would visit with our son.  We sat down at our table at 1:30.  There were many girlfriends, wives, friends and families to visit their loved ones.  We watched guys come in and sit down with those who had come to visit them.  A half hour passed and there were maybe three visitors, including us, left waiting for the door to open bringing who we had been waiting for.  Another half hour and no Andy.  His dad approached the guards and asked why our son hadn't been brought up.  "Oh, he's somewhere.  We can't find him, uh, maybe he's on recreation or something,  we're working on it."  I had lost my happy face by this time.  Another half hour passed and I had had it. I jumped up, walked over to the desk and asked again why our son hadn't come up and explained we had to leave at 3:30 (half hour from when I asked).  "Uh, well, sometimes this just happens, they're somewhere but we can't locate them, and we can't help it, and uh, you just never know when this will happen."  I went back and sat down.  In another 10-15 minutes or so Andy appeared after having been stripped search on his way into the room; standard humiliating procedure.  We asked him where he had been?  He had told us last week that Saturday afternoon is when he can go out into the yard (outside) to run and exercise.  We thought he must have been doing that and frankly I was a little miffed at his rudeness.  When he sat down he said he hadn't been in the yard that he was in his cell the whole time.  The guards had just told him he had visitors.  I was so totally angry that they feel like it's ok to mess with people, to yank their chain.  I'm still a little mad.  We did extend our visit another half hour, until 4, and it worked out ok to get home in time to finish dinner, BUT our visit was cut short and probably not as relaxed as it could have been.

What makes me more sad than angry about this whole experience is some things he shared with us about himself during the visit.  It's hitting him how long he will be locked up.  Worst case scenario release date is 2022.  Best case is 2017.  He'll either be back into society in 5 years or 7 years.  Man, that's a long time.  He is realizing that he will be 30 years old.  Let's see that's about 15 years of his life gone, wasted, from the time he made the decision to use drugs and to do whatever it took to get that life sucking substance to walking back out into the fresh air, hopefully a free man.  He believes all his hopes, dreams, and aspirations are never to be had.  We did what all good parents would try to do, minimize the pain, and try to give encouragement, sharing with him that you find new dreams, new hopes, new aspirations.  I think it might have fell on deaf ears.  Maybe what he's feeling is what he should be feeling, but to be defeated for the next 7 years?  I wouldn't want that.  I've been sad for him.  Another walk in faith, right?  And that's where I am, not able to do anything, but pray for him to be given strength, courage, and to submit cheerfully to the will of the Lord, then his burdens will be made light, even so that he cannot feel them upon his back.  I'm praying for myself, too.       

There's Beauty Even in Cactus!

I love this barrel cactus with many cacti growing on top of each other.  There's beauty in its uniqueness.  Andy is unique.  

We tried again to visit Andy on Saturday fully expecting something to go wrong.  We showed our ID cards, loaded the security conveyer belt with our watches, glasses, shoes, keys, etc.  The guard looked at mine and said, "I'm sorry but sandals aren't allowed inside.  You have to wear shoes with a back on them."  What?  Where did it say that?  Well, lucky for her (and for me) I had a pair of dress shoes in the car!  I hurried out to the car, put on heels with my jeans, and made it through the outer area.  Another guard who looks like Charles Barkley took us through two locked gates on the fences surrounding the prison.  A ton of barbed wire was twisted along the top of the fences as well as electric wires all around.  I must admit it was a little disconcerting.  We were then taken into a room with several tables and 4 chairs around the tables.  After waiting about 10 minutes our son walked into the room.  I hadn't seen him face to face except from a distance in court for nearly 2 1/2 years.  We hugged each other tightly and held on.  Let me clarify, I held on!  

He looks lean, clean, and peaceful.  His complexion is the best I've ever seen it.  We visited with him for about 4 hours.  I'm not sure there was ever any silent time.  He talked, and talked, and talked.  I just tried to listen to him and get to know him once again.  That's when I realized he is a unique individual and as I look back on his life, he's always been that way.  He seems to think a little differently, and he does think deeply about life.  I realized that I just need to accept who he is, not his behavior, of course, but his individuality.  

There was another big hug when we parted; what joy to spend some time with him.  And although it is difficult to visit him, my son in prison, I feel peace and comfort.  And that's a beautiful thing!

The Long, Lonely Road

We have been waiting to visit Andy for three weeks, and to see if he was staying in the Eloy facility.  We got a letter from him last week so he's still there.  Whenever an inmate is transferred to a new facility there is a waiting period of two weeks before they can have visitors.  It's been over two weeks.  We drove up to Eloy expecting to see him today.  The first thing we heard when we walked in the door was the prison being in shut-down mode, but not the section Andy is in.  We showed our ID, then the clerk says to me, "you're not cleared to visit."  Well, we checked that before coming and was told I did have clearance. Oh, well, at least one of us was going to visit with him.  The clerk told his dad to take off his glasses, watch, shoes, belt, his keys, and give me the change he had in his pockets.  We had been there about 45 minutes by this time.  His dad goes through the metal detector, sits in a chair waiting to be escorted to the visitor's center.  Fifteen minutes passes and the clerk receives a phone call saying Andy was still on intake status and couldn't have visitors.  Grrrrrr!  

We must choose well what  we do because the consequences of our actions is a long, lonely road indeed.