Bend, Don't Break

DC came by to talk to me the other night. As I’ve written before, DC is one of the most interesting guys I’ve ever met. Though we are from completely different worlds, I feel a kinship with him I’ve seldom felt. Prison is terrible, but survivable because of the friendships I’ve been blessed with. I count DC as one of those blessings.



He knew I’d been struggling in a valley these past few weeks. He knew I felt beaten down and abandoned by friends whom had been there for me, yet now when I so desperately needed to hear from them, utter silence. He knew I was dealing with another round of rejection from loved ones that had set me back months, if not years. He came by and sat down and never once mentioned my situation. Instead, he told me something his father told him when he was sitting in the hole years ago.


His father, a Korean War infantryman, told him “take every day at a time. Bend, don’t break. When you lay down at night, thank God He saw you through.” DC then stood up, headed back out of my cut. Before leaving, he looked at me, told me he respected my courage, my compassion for these guys and my decency and simply ended “just bend”.


I went to bed that night like I do every other evening by reciting the words to the 103rd Psalm, by praying that my ex find someone she can love and trust and in turn loves her unconditionally, that my sons are joyous, secure, forgiving and loving. I prayed for my parents, for my cousin and her husband who have been so steadfast in their love and support for me, and for friends – even as some pull away from me. Those are difficult prayers at times for me as I struggle with issues like rejection and abandonment. Still, I pray. That night I added one additional prayer: “Please don’t let me break, God. I know you’re listening. Let me bend, not break.”


There’s a lot going on right now. I am working an extraordinary amount of hours, close to twelve a day, helping guys with their college studies. I’m paid forty-five cents per hour for thirty hours of work. The money isn’t necessarily the issue. No, I’m working my butt off to keep guys motivated who have an initial reaction to difficulty to quit. I’m working my butt off for guys who are all going home in the next one to two years (max), many of whom are here for their second or third time. Meanwhile, I still have ten years remaining on my sentence.


As I lay in bed I began to think I must be crazy. Everything I knew, everything I built, everything I longed for, was gone. And, here I was putting out all this effort and I had nothing to show for it. All night I tossed and turned. I finally got out of my bunk at 3:30 and began to pray. “Please let me bend, not break today” I prayed. I noticed my devotional was from the Sermon on the Mount. As I read the Beatitudes I wondered what they really meant. “Blessed are the poor in spirit…” I reached for Big S’s modern language Bible.


“You’re blessed when you’re at the end of your rope. With less of you, there is more of God and His role.”


“Your blessed when you feel you’ve lost what is most dear to you. Only then can you be embraced by the One most dear to you.”


Those words rolled through my brain. “At the end of my rope.” I’d been there almost every day the past six weeks. Not a day had gone by that I didn’t wonder what was my breaking point. I was hanging by a thread, reaching for a small light that grew dimmer each moment. “Lost what is most dear to you.” Let’s see, rejected by my wife and kids, loss of my freedom, loss of my wealth, abandonment by friends. Things were so bad I’ve had crack addicts doing their fourth bid tell me “damn, your life sucks.”


“Bend, don’t break.” Those words kept hitting me between the eyes. I remembered an anonymous quote I picked up shortly after my arrest. It said simply,


“Pain is synonymous with spirituality. When you’re in the most pain you are closest to God.”


The simple fact was, I realized, that there was absolutely nothing I could do that day to get me out of prison right then, or make my ex-wife love and forgive me, or make my kids tell me they loved and missed me, or make a close friend take five minutes out of his day to write me back. But, I could make a difference in these guys’ lives.


So that afternoon, I led a review session in the dayroom for a group of English students on critically evaluating a social science piece called “Can Money Buy Happiness?”

Days Like These

There are days in here that seem to pass by smoothly. Then, there are days that roll over in a tsunami of stress, prayerful reflection and trying to just hang on. I had a few days like that this week.



It started Monday. Guys had been hitting me up for legal help by the dozens. But, there are only so many hours in the day and, quite frankly, most guys don’t have a case. They’ve either waited too long or they were guilty and no amount of hours from me in the law library will change that.


But success breeds reputation and a week ago one guy for whom I prepared a motion to reopen his case (based on extrinsic fraud) was granted a hearing. Everyone wanted my help.


There’s one guy “TN” who had asked me to prep a Habeas Petition. I told him I would in a few weeks. That led to this exchange in front of my classroom.


TN: Look, either you do my work tonight or I’m wuppin your ass in the bathroom [TN, by the way, is a 6’5” black guy in for attempted murder and armed B&E].


Me: You’re gonna respect the way I do things. I’m helping you, not vice versa.


TN: To the bathroom MoFo.


Me: F--- You! Man up and hit me right here.


The result? TN backed down. In a quieter voice he said “Look man. I’m desperate. I’m beggin’ you. Please help me.”


I’d been threatened before – at receiving - and knew then you can’t back down. When a guy calls you out he’s “frontin” you. He’s looking for a way to save face. It shook me, but I know in here I have to demand respect or things will spiral out of control.


Tuesday night, almost 17 months from her last letter, my ex wrote. The contents of the letter are between us, but it shook me deeply. For almost that entire time I would pray each night for word from her. I knew how I’d react, knew how I’d respond.


When it happened, I did exactly the opposite of what I had meticulously planned. In short, I blew it. I became completely unnerved and reacted incorrectly.


The weird thing was, by the time I went to bed I was back at peace. I lay awake for a few minutes and then recited the 103rd Psalm. Unfortunately, the damage was already done. I had reacted without carefully weighing, thinking and praying.


The next morning, I read the story of Moses killing the Egyptian and then fleeing. In a commentary, the writer noted that Moses reacted impulsively. He failed to trust God. It would later turn out God wasn’t through with Moses. That entire day I thought “How can I undo what I did?” The answer always came back the same: You can only go forward.


Did I blow it? I don’t know. But, I do know God’s involved. He has a plan for my ex, my sons and me. It isn’t going to be what I want; it’ll be what He wants.


I was at work and Ms. H, the teacher I work for in the morning knew I had things weighing me down. She said this to me:


“You give the impression this is easy. You’re smarter than almost anyone here; you’re charming; you have all the teachers fighting over using you in class. Guys all over this place gravitate to you. And you have a blog.”


I tried to explain to her that’s the outside me. Inside I’m lonely, I’m broken.


“People don’t see that on the street. They don’t see the suffering.”


She was right. As Saleem told me, I’m living better in prison than a lot of these guys are outside.


Saleem is an interesting man. He is the leader of the Muslim community. Fifty-eight years old, he’s been locked up 30 years. He owned a business then got greedy. Taking money from his legitimate business, he began running illegal enterprises. He made a ton of cash. It was quick and easy, too easy. One night a deal went bad and he killed a man.


Saleem had never been in a fight his entire life and in one stupid, reckless act he was guilty of capital murder.


He heard me at my worst Tuesday night. Saleem said: “Larry you’re a very good guy. You have a bigger heart than just about anyone I’ve ever met. But, you have to realize, in here you can only do Larry.”


I looked puzzled. “You have no control over the street”, he said. “You can’t make your ex or your kids or the Governor do anything. I see you at 4:00 every morning praying. I believe you’re a man of God. That means, put it in His hands and trust Him.”


I realized that’s how Saleem, DC and Ty do their time, by remembering they have little control in their life. What they do is keep their minds and their faith strong. So I survived. I didn’t handle things the way I wanted, but I made it through. I went to the law library and typed TN’s Habeas Petition and waited for tomorrow.