Counting Blessings

This week, USA Today columnist Craig Wilson wrote an interesting essay about middle class Americans becoming so whiny. He wrote about passengers on the disabled Carnival Cruise ship remarking that they’d “been through hell”. Hell? They were “forced” to eat Pop Tarts and canned crabmeat. Their toilets wouldn’t flush for half a day.



Wilson pointed out that in Haiti; millions are still homeless from last January’s earthquake. Thousands more are suffering from cholera.


People in America, he concluded, have forgotten how good we have it. He’s right, you know. Even here I prison, I find myself so fortunate for my current circumstances. In my advanced writing class yesterday, one of my students – Ty – said the following:


“Young guys here who bitch don’t know how good they have it. At the real penitentiary you see stabbings and rapes every week, thefts and guys getting beat up every day. This place is comfortable.”


I’ve thought a good deal about Mr. Wilson’s and Ty’s comments. I realized how fortunate I really am – even in here. I just need to remind myself about all the blessings I receive, even in prison.


So, here’s my first ever “Thanksgiving in prison” list, a list of those things I’m truly thankful for.


I’m thankful that the three people who matter most to me, my two sons and my ex-wife, are healthy and doing well. As much as I pray for a miracle reconciliation, I pray more for their care, their health, their security, and their peace.


I’m thankful for my cousin and her husband. They have done more to sustain me these past two years than anyone else in my life. Prior to my arrest, I had only limited involvement with them. Yet, they found space in their heart for me. They listen, counsel, care and support me. I candidly must admit I couldn’t have gotten to this point in my prison experience without them.


I’m thankful for the friendships I’ve made. Big S is part son, part best friend. I have met men during this experience: Ty, Black, Jerry Lee, Powers, Briscoe and DC to name a few, who have taught me much about dignity and patience in the face of adversity.


Even as my friends from home fade away, friends who said “I’ll write” or “I’ll be out to see you soon”, fail to carry through, I’ve learned the real meaning of friendship and brotherhood.


I’m thankful I have my health, mentally, physically and spiritually. This compound has hundreds of inmates suffering from Hepatitis C, AIDS, diabetes, high blood pressure, and they, for the most part, are significantly younger than me. I turned 51 this past July. I have perfect blood pressure, perfect cholesterol, excellent sugar. My dental hygiene is perfect. I’ve kept my weight between 168 and 170. I run, I pray, I do yoga and meditate. I’ve been removed from medication. I am psychologically sound and mentally and spiritually more alive than I’ve been in years. Even in the midst of loneliness, this negative environment, this isolation and loss of so much, I have found hope and purpose.


I’m thankful that I know, finally, who I am. I understand why I made the decisions I did. I know I’m a good, kind man. I’ve made mistakes. I broke the law. I hurt deeply three people more important to me than life itself. But, I know the final chapter in my life has not yet been written. I have so much to give, so much to do. I wouldn’t have found that without this prison experience, and dealing with the pain of losing the love of my life and ultimately learning to forgive and understand my capacity to love and endure in spite of being hurt so deeply.


I have so much to be thankful for. I will always have my memories of marrying my wife, how I felt watching her walk down the aisle, how wonderful it felt the first time and so many other times when we made love. I will always see in my mind’s eye the birth of both of my sons, how I cradled them in my arms and softly sang to them.


I am so thankful that at my lowest, when all seemed lost, I decided to go on just one more day. God really does work in mysterious ways. So many people I’ve met along this path, so many eye opening, soul changing experiences would have been missed had I given up.


I’m not sure what the future holds. Each day I doubt more and more that my ex will ever speak to me, ever tell me she really did love me. Each day the likelihood of seeing, of hugging, my sons seems more distant. Yet, somehow I believe. I believe things will get better. I believe love and goodness do win out in the end.


It’s strange really to think of yourself as blessed while you’re sitting in a prison dormitory divorced, separated from your children, no home, no retirement, no one to say “I love you”. Yet, twice a day in prayer I say that. Truth is, I have more than so many others. I have, even in here, a blessed life.