Mother's Day is an interesting time here in prison...
Almost everyone seems to have, or they had, a great mom. For many, they have, or had, one or two loving grandmothers.
So during this morning's worship service my chaplain gave a brief message of encouragement concerning Mother's Day. I think all of us felt a little guilty at being "failures" in the eyes of our moms.
Yet there is one thing about most of our mothers, they never stopped loving us, even in spite of our rebellion and our mistakes. For even though I lost my mother to cancer when I was fourteen, and this was back in 1967, when I got into trouble she was always there for me.
And after all this time, I never stopped missing her. She seems to be on my mind every moment of each day for the thirty-four years she's been gone.
I also miss going to the cemetery, which I used to do several times per year before I got locked up. I would have gone even more if I could have managed it. Being in prison these twenty-four years, has really hurt because I cannot get to her gravesite.
However, God still makes ways. Last year and the year previously, several dear friends from New Jersey (where she is buried) had gone to the cemetery in my behalf. They visited my mother’s grave, and each left a stone at the top of her headstone. This is a Jewish tradition.
My friends would have gone again this year but for the fact that one of them, my Christian sister Ellen, has been struggling with cancer herself. She doesn’t have the strength to drive a car, or to stand up for very long.
But under the chaplain's direction we all joined in prayer for our mothers and grandmothers who are still alive. Some of the men prayed for family members who were sick. A few of them have moms who are in the hospital. One brother has a mother who may not live much longer.
One of the worst experiences for an inmate is to have an "immediate family member" die. Over the years, I've seen many a man go out to attend a funeral. It is a painful, and many times shameful, event. For a prisoner has to go to the funeral home being escorted by two guards. The prisoner must wear his green uniform and stay handcuffed, even when around one's relatives. Although the guards are wearing civilian suits, they are always at each side of the grieving man.
Being a Christian, I've had many opportunities to pray with men who were scheduled to go out shortly to a funeral, or who were just getting back from one. Some cried. Some complained. Most just accepted the passing of a loved one as part of life.
Almost all the men I have spoken with, however, expressed guilt at not being the son, brother or father they should have been.
Several years ago, one of the men in our congregation lost his brother to gun violence in Brooklyn. He was off to the funeral a few days later.
We've had men lose brothers, sisters, their kids, and most often a parent. Much of the time it is through sickness or accident. Occasionally violence strikes a loved one. Still, to be here and away from one's family when they're suffering, it is tough. A lot of anger and grief pours out of a man. Yet I know that God's grace is sufficient, and Jesus is always with those who mourn,
Thinking about my own Mother on this day, as is the case every day, I miss her tremendously.
D.B.
So during this morning's worship service my chaplain gave a brief message of encouragement concerning Mother's Day. I think all of us felt a little guilty at being "failures" in the eyes of our moms.
Yet there is one thing about most of our mothers, they never stopped loving us, even in spite of our rebellion and our mistakes. For even though I lost my mother to cancer when I was fourteen, and this was back in 1967, when I got into trouble she was always there for me.
And after all this time, I never stopped missing her. She seems to be on my mind every moment of each day for the thirty-four years she's been gone.
I also miss going to the cemetery, which I used to do several times per year before I got locked up. I would have gone even more if I could have managed it. Being in prison these twenty-four years, has really hurt because I cannot get to her gravesite.
However, God still makes ways. Last year and the year previously, several dear friends from New Jersey (where she is buried) had gone to the cemetery in my behalf. They visited my mother’s grave, and each left a stone at the top of her headstone. This is a Jewish tradition.
My friends would have gone again this year but for the fact that one of them, my Christian sister Ellen, has been struggling with cancer herself. She doesn’t have the strength to drive a car, or to stand up for very long.
But under the chaplain's direction we all joined in prayer for our mothers and grandmothers who are still alive. Some of the men prayed for family members who were sick. A few of them have moms who are in the hospital. One brother has a mother who may not live much longer.
One of the worst experiences for an inmate is to have an "immediate family member" die. Over the years, I've seen many a man go out to attend a funeral. It is a painful, and many times shameful, event. For a prisoner has to go to the funeral home being escorted by two guards. The prisoner must wear his green uniform and stay handcuffed, even when around one's relatives. Although the guards are wearing civilian suits, they are always at each side of the grieving man.
Being a Christian, I've had many opportunities to pray with men who were scheduled to go out shortly to a funeral, or who were just getting back from one. Some cried. Some complained. Most just accepted the passing of a loved one as part of life.
Almost all the men I have spoken with, however, expressed guilt at not being the son, brother or father they should have been.
Several years ago, one of the men in our congregation lost his brother to gun violence in Brooklyn. He was off to the funeral a few days later.
We've had men lose brothers, sisters, their kids, and most often a parent. Much of the time it is through sickness or accident. Occasionally violence strikes a loved one. Still, to be here and away from one's family when they're suffering, it is tough. A lot of anger and grief pours out of a man. Yet I know that God's grace is sufficient, and Jesus is always with those who mourn,
Thinking about my own Mother on this day, as is the case every day, I miss her tremendously.
D.B.