Today I experienced a miracle...
This afternoon at approximately 1:30 I had to use my toilet. However, when I pressed the metal button to dispose of my waste, the flush button got stuck, causing the water to continually flow. The water kept gushing, making a lot of noise, and I was unable to stop it.
I then called for the tier officer to come to my cell. He saw what the problem was and opened with his key the nearby access closet where the controls to my cell’s water and electricity are located. He shut off my water source, thus stopping the flow. He then went to call for the facility’s plumbers to come and take a look.
For more than an hour, the plumbers worked on trying to fix the flush mechanism. But in doing so, they accidentally broke off a piece of it. Turning to my housing officer, they said there was nothing more they could do. They had to order another part.
With my water shut off, the housing rule mandates that an inmate is not permitted to stay in a cell which doesn’t have running water. So the officer went and called the head of security to explain the situation. He, in turn, ordered that I relocate to another cell. This also meant having to pack up all my belongings, and this is what I began to do.
To my good pleasure, I learned I was being transferred back to my former housing area where I lived for about twenty-one months prior to my heart attack and the long journey that resulted from it.
The unexpected and sudden move was an answer to prayer. I was being rescued from a poisonous environment where prisoners yelled from their cells with frequent barrages of racism and anti-Semitism. None of which was directed at me personally, but was a big part of the general conversations of angry men.
I was living in a miserable place, with its negative energy. Now I was going to a somewhat more peaceful location. I couldn’t believe it. I’d been hoping to move, and never would have, save for a malfunctioning toilet. Indeed, God sometimes works in mysterious ways.
D.B.
I then called for the tier officer to come to my cell. He saw what the problem was and opened with his key the nearby access closet where the controls to my cell’s water and electricity are located. He shut off my water source, thus stopping the flow. He then went to call for the facility’s plumbers to come and take a look.
For more than an hour, the plumbers worked on trying to fix the flush mechanism. But in doing so, they accidentally broke off a piece of it. Turning to my housing officer, they said there was nothing more they could do. They had to order another part.
With my water shut off, the housing rule mandates that an inmate is not permitted to stay in a cell which doesn’t have running water. So the officer went and called the head of security to explain the situation. He, in turn, ordered that I relocate to another cell. This also meant having to pack up all my belongings, and this is what I began to do.
To my good pleasure, I learned I was being transferred back to my former housing area where I lived for about twenty-one months prior to my heart attack and the long journey that resulted from it.
The unexpected and sudden move was an answer to prayer. I was being rescued from a poisonous environment where prisoners yelled from their cells with frequent barrages of racism and anti-Semitism. None of which was directed at me personally, but was a big part of the general conversations of angry men.
I was living in a miserable place, with its negative energy. Now I was going to a somewhat more peaceful location. I couldn’t believe it. I’d been hoping to move, and never would have, save for a malfunctioning toilet. Indeed, God sometimes works in mysterious ways.
D.B.
