and this takes time. Next, any program must be reviewed and
approved by the staff and chaplain of the detention center
before permission is granted.
It was late November and time was short, but I felt an
urgency to make something happen if at all possible. Knowing
it was out of my hands, I asked my young and busy pastor if
he would kindly ask the county detention center on my behalf.
I committed to gathering a small team of family and friends
(who could hopefully pass a government background check), if
he could round up one of our finest church bands. Together,
we agreed to bring a Christmas service to one of the county
juvenile facilities whenever they would give us a date.
To our surprise, within just a few days we received approval
from the chaplain, who had never heard of me or my story, to
bring a special morning chapel service on the Sunday before
Christmas. We were told there would be about seventy-five
boy inmates and a dozen girls, whose average age was fifteen
—and though there were many specific restrictions, we were
officially invited.
About two weeks before the special day arrived, I began to
contemplate what I was going to say to these young men and
women who were incarcerated for up to twenty-four months for
very serious offenses. Each time I sat down to write an outline
for my talk, the many reasons this chapel service was probably
not such a good idea would flood my mind:
I didn’t have any experience working with prisoners.
I was a lot older than them.
I was an emotional woman, not a strong, buff, or powerful man.
I had never been incarcerated—how could I relate to them?