No Way Home?

 

Satisfaction and purpose in my life seem so elusive right now as I search for my way home.  For the past two years I have felt more like chattel  a penned-up piece of property on the state's list of assets spreadsheet, rather than a valued divinely created child of an omnipotent, omniscient, omnipresent God. Now, DO NOT ME WRONG, I know that the Lord has, is, and will continue to protect and provide for me during this unjust incarceration. I have been overwhelmingly cared for with the blessing of Manasseh and Ephraim  by His hands of mercy and grace the past 10 years(1). I am well aware, thankful for, and give Him all praise for the way that He has been my refuge and covered me with the His pinions (2) during this incarceral experience. The state of Oklahoma however has not been as considerate or kind. For the past thirteen years I have struggled to find a purpose in my prodigal son's betrayal (it was two days after his 17th birthday, 13 years ago today, that he "ran away" and his adopted maternal grandmother fed into his millennial snowflake entitlement issues(3)). Even during those next 3 years, between 4/22/09 and my 9/1/12 incarceration, I found purpose, ministry, and usefulness. I was able, and welcomed, to serve at Park and Celebrate Recovery® and even returned to China for a summer. LL, CK and numerous others provided me many opportunities to work and continue to provide for my family financially(4). God still found ways to use me.

Kismet and karma have definitely not revealed any purpose in the Father allowing me to be incarcerated these past ten years. Nor have I ever thought that it would  only the Holy Spirit can do that. At least at Crabtree I had a 40+ hour a week job that I was very good at  where my service was valued by staff and by inmates alike. For over 7 years at Crabtree I facilitated a weekly Addicts At The Cross Step Study where God used me as a vehicle for others to seek sobriety from their hurts, habits, and hang ups. I was even able to take college classes towards a substance abuse recovery degree through NWOSU. The past two years have been a different story. I trust, by pure faith alone in His Word, that He is working everything out for my good and to His glory. However, at times that faith has been a thinning thread, especially over the past 27 months. My time at Cushing, Lawton, and now at Granite has seemed to be an absolute waste of my time, my gifts, and my talents. I will be shocked when, in Heaven, if God can show me a genuine purpose for this time spent sequestered away(5). I wrote previously(6) that my move to the privatized for-profit prison system probably helped me to remain covid free, and for that I am grateful. Other than that, I am not sure why King Jesus allowed that move, or for these false allegations by my son and my subsequent incarceration to continue.

Essentially there is nothing for me to do right now. I feel my physical stamina, my mental energies, my spiritual being, and my personal self-worth depreciating by the day. Contrary to the stated mission of the DOC, there is no "rehabilitation" available in Oklahoma prisons beyond the minimal federal mandates for anyone without a GED. I have no "programs" to take. There is no "rehabilitation" designed or assigned for inmates who are convicted of sex based offences in this state (they should be treated as having a neurotransmitter induced mental illness, like those with substance abuse issues, with the same recovery stepped-based  approach coupled with intensive therapy. This is one area where our Securustech.net tablets are being underutilized). There are no educational opportunities for me here (this is a second area where our Securustech.net tablets are being underutilized). There are no jobs that suit my qualifications. I have strong feelings of disenfranchised grieving regarding my situational limitations(7). Beyond those feelings of dissatisfaction, there is also the long-term compounding effects of the covid pandemic, Putin's ongoing war in Ukraine, as well as Russian and American ochlocracy that affect my state of mind. You might not think that "outside" events such as these would affect those of us obscured from society's view, but it does. My concerns are not only about myself and my own mental/emotional health, but mostly how those whom I love are affected by those events. The only spark of hope I have right now that keeps me lifted up is that my possible Count III Commutation could coincide with my November discharge from the Count II weaponized false allegations of my prodigal Absalom/Kylo, and that I could be released before 2022 is over. There IS a realistic pathway home just within my reach: I see it. I just don't know if God will allow it to happen: if it's in His "Will" or not. And that anxiety, that tension of not knowing where He is allowing this incarceration and prodigal story to go, is just adding to my disenfranchised ambiguity.

Ukraine's forced self-defense posture against the atrocities committed by Vladimir Putin compound my feelings of grief and unfulfillment as I set here on my hands 24/7, when I know that I could be, should be, right there on the border serving the refugees  or doing even more to see these displaced peoples find their own way home. I have made financial dispersments from my meager monthly gang pay to CBN's Operation Blessing, but I want to physically do more. I am a completely useless blob. I know that the children I raised, even my prodigal Absalom/Kylo, at one point in their lives, would have already been on a plane and being the hands and feet of Jesus to those who lives have been torn apart by Putin's genocidal warmongering. They've seen poverty and homelessness and communism up close through their mission trips with Garnett and Park Plaza. They have served the poor in OKC and Thunder Bay as well as the indigenous communities in Durant. They have seen firsthand the fallout of dictatorships and socialism in Nicaragua, Honduras and China. If the past thirteen years had played out differently, maybe in an alternate multiverse, I am 85% certain that we would have, as a family, already been "boots on the ground" doing our part in missions and ministry work at the Ukrainian border to help these displaced peoples find their way home.

Ostensibly, in a perfect world, if my Count III Commutation and Count II Discharge can line up and I am released this year, I am not even certain that I would be welcomed or allowed to go overseas to do missions work. That may be an unrecoverable loss caused by my son's perjury: until the Lord decides it is time to reveal all lies and liars and expose the truth. Not being welcomed or allowed to serve in areas of ministry may just be one more ambiguous loss in my life that I must learn to cope with: a lasting legacy of my son's slanderous weaponized false allegations of abuse as an immature millennial entitled eighteen-year-old. As his brain has continued to develop over the past decade, I hoped that he would mature out of his perjury, grow into the man I raised, and tell the truth. That remains my birthday wish for him even today: that his now 30-year-old heart for truth will override his then 17 year old's coerced lies(8). We know from his sworn court testimony that he admits to being a liar to detective Baumann and ADA's Cain and McAmis(9), changing his story several times all in an effort to "win his mother back"(10). Was his ultimate intentional goal also to have me incarcerated as well? Does he not understand, or just not care, that he will have to answer to the Lord for lying after swearing an oath in God's name to tell the truth? Does his 30-year-old self not consider the eternal consequences of his millennial induced decision making just so his 17 year old self could flunk out of school, play video games all day, experiment with marijuana, and continue to have unfettered coitus with his girlfriend? Has he not grown up these past 13 years and matured out of his lies? Does he not yet grieve his decisions and regret his perjurious behaviors?

Manifestly, "in her new book, "The Myth of Closure: Ambiguous Loss in  a Time of Pandemic and Changes," Pauline Boss considers what it means to reach "emotional closure" in a state of unnamable grief. Hard to define, these grievances have been granted a new name "Ambiguous Loss". The death of  loved one, missing relatives, [being] incarcerated, giving a child up for adoption, having a child betray you, a lost friend - Boss teases out how one can mourn something that cannot be described. This pandemic, [and now Putin's genocidal warmongering] has been rife with ambiguous loss: milestones misdeed  friendships and romantic liaisons cooled  families prevented from bidding farewell to dying loved ones because of strict  pandemic [or DOC] rules. A sense of "frozen grief" pervades great swathes of the global community."(11) Frozen grief accurately describes the limbo I find myself in. I have to wonder if my prodigal Kylo is stuck in his own frozen grief?

Oklahoma's Department of Corrections is certainly not helping me, nor any inmate I know, to deal with their emotional limbo, preparing them to reintegrate into society or with their families, much less dealing with ambiguous loss. That work has always appeared to me to be the responsibility of the inmate who knows they are going home. So, I turn to whatever resources I can find to aid me in my preparations.  Frozen grief, or disenfranchised grief, means to be stuck in your sorrow. Boss recommends six  ways to manage frozen grief or find closure or to bear grief:

1. relinquish one’s desire to control an uncontrollable situation

2. making meaning out of loss

3. recreating identity after the loss

4. becoming accustomed to ambivalent feelings

5. redefining one’s relationship with whatever or whomever was lost

6. finding new hope.

Relinquishing my desire to control the uncontrollable situation(12) of my prodigal son's lies 12 years ago, I forgave him a long, long time ago(13). I did not, do not, want to be stuck in that sorrow, limbo, or kismet. I deeply desire a restored relationship with him but am fully prepared for him to cling to his lies (under ADA McAmis' threat of his own incarceration for giving false testimony) until his own death; or possibly that of his adopted maternal grandmother. He is a victim: a victim of Annie Henderson's infliction of Parental Alienation Syndrome. What had I ever done to him in the 15 years I fathered him to deserve the fate his perjury has resulted in? Rehabilitated him from his chronically reoccurring secondhand smoke induced pneumonia and repetitive hospitalization as a toddler? Instilling in him his own sense of personal responsibility? Not treating him as a snowflake? Insisting that he remain in school and graduate? Expecting him not to impregnate a girl as a teenager? Expecting him to remain drug free? Expecting him to work and earn his own financial way in life? Judge Teresa Drieling certainly didn't help support us as parents to keep him on that right path. Satan really found all of his wink links to attack me through.

Purpose and satisfaction may be temporarily elusive, but they will return(14). King Jesus promises it. As I reflected a few paragraphs back, I have tried, especially while I was at Crabtree, and with varying degrees of success, to make meaning out of loss(15), recreating my identity after the loss(16), and becoming accustomed to ambivalent feelings of loss(17). I reflected in my recent Day #3500 post that my grief has transformed into a nostalgic ache. I am also fully aware that Boss' steps, like recovery/sobriety principles must be revisited over and over. Upon my release those steps will take on even newer meaning and will have to be reevaluated and the results reintegrated into my renewed purposes.    

Hope is what the just passed Easter season reminds me to focus on. The last of Boss' recommended six ways to manage frozen grief or find closure or to bear grief is to find new hope(18). How do I find this new hope? I look in the same place I found my old hope. The only place to find hope; the only One in whom there is any hope. The hope we honored and remembered around the world just a few days ago on Resurrection Sunday. How will I reflect this new hope as I discharge my unjustified prison sentence? By being frugal, endeavoring to speak the truth, applying myself industriously, and speaking ill of no man (while still speaking the truth)(19). That is exactly the precipice upon which I stand on my Prodigal's thirtieth birthday today. I DO see a way home! Freedom IS so close. No [Doctor] strange magic spells are needed: nobody will forget the lies projected about me anyway, but the truth will counteract them. Eventually, the truth will set me, and set my dearly beloved Prodigal, free: and then he can find his way home as well(20).

 

(1)#1500 Manasseh  and  Ephraim

(2) Psalms 91

(3) read The Narrative 9-1-21 and Legacy #2 3-12-22

(4) read Dedication of http://ManassehEphraim.blogspot.com

(5) Esther 4:14

(6) read #3500

(7) Mt. 11:17; Mark 6:12; Luke 7:18; John 5:20

(8) Gal. 4:3

(9) from Tyroblog?

(10) Trial Trans. Vol. VI p. 673, 677, 638, 680-684, 716-717

(11) trial transcript 8/20/2012 Vol. X p. 1719 "I'll win my mother back"

(12) Ecc. 1

(13) read Purpose Driven Life chapter/day #18

(14) read Day # 2600; Job 42; I Peter 2:12

(15) Job 42; Gal. 3:4; Eph. 3:3-13

(16) Job 42; Heb. 11:32-34

(17) Job 42; 2 Samuel 19:7-8

(18) read Day #2200, #500, #2800

(19) Benjamin Franklin

(20) Luke 15:32

 

#skeuomorph

Under His Pinions

           Beginning with a move from the privately-owned for-profit GEO/Lawton facility to the state owned and operated Granite facility on Jail Day #3402 (Thursday December 17, 2021), the past 100 days have proven to be quite interesting. I give God all of the glory for granting someone in a seat of authority the wisdom to create another yard comprised of older and maturing men who just want to serve their time in peace and respect for each other, as well as for the staff. Granite is an upgraded version of Crabtree, with less nepotism and a less jaded more congenial staff (though certain special people will never be forgotten and can never be replaced in my heart). Interesting side note: the few inmates who had ghost packets served on them from Crabtree and moved to Granite report that the Crabtree response to Covid was chaotic with almost 100% of the yard catching covid. Several died, including a staff member. Covid left men sleeping in boats in the auditorium and in the gym with limited movements, few working toilets, no television, and a pathetic medical response for months. It does not sound too far removed from the Titicut Follies. I was unexpectedly placed in Transit Holding while at Crabtree on January 2, 2020, just one week before covid was identified in the Wuhan Province of China. At that time, I did not understand why the Lord was allowing this transit move to happen. In hindsight it is clear. Like the turtledove, swallow, crane, stork, swift, and thrush do by nature, He knew it was time for my migration(1) and arranged for my flight out of my Egypt, carrying me out on eagles’ wings (2).

Interestingly, the rumors of a new "mature yard" began to circulate during the few days that I was at Cushing's privately owned CORE CIVIC Cimarron facility (2/2020 - 8/2020) prior to its eventual shuttering. We heard that the Granite facility was being repaired, updated, and air conditioned with plans to be reopened as another Crabtree like facility for older men and men with sensitive cases. Shortly after the pandemic was declared on March 12, 2020, covid hit DOC and Granite was subsequently turned into a quarantine yard. In August of 2021, while I was being warehoused at the privately owned GEO Lawton facility (8/2020 - 12/2021) we began to hear those encouraging rumors resurface. When men began to be actually moved, I became hopeful that once again I could be at a more relaxed medium facility and away from the privately owned warehousing, I was in. DOC began pulling men with last names beginning with the letter M in late October (it was odd to start with M names and not A names. Had they begun with the A's I would not have been moved). After prayerfully waiting and hoping for a change, for a chance, I was finally placed on the last full bus to leave Lawton just before Christmas.

     Rumors in this circumstance turned out to hold many truths. On jail day # 3402 I moved to the premiere private gated community in the state. It was such a relief to just be able to go out of doors. Our cells are slightly smaller than at Lawton. Our day rooms are much, much smaller. However, we have full flush porcelain toilets without an anti-flood timer and private single person showers for the first time in ten years  although they are showers with the weakest water pressure I've taken since my arrest (given the choice I'd take high water pressure over modesty any day). I've written previously (3) about the unique smell of our cell when the heater is on  how it reminds me of my great grandparent Denton's home as well as the cabin on Grand Lake. There is another aroma here that reminds me of my youth: our laundered clothing. The smell of our returned "clean" clothes has a faint aroma of the death of the wilting blooms from a Bradford pear tree which reminds me of the washed towels in the Foster Middle School locker room that Tulsa Public Schools would provide to those who paid their "towel fee". These are not necessarily good memories. I write "clean", but as there are not individual pod washer/dryers here, we must use the common yard laundry services, and now everybody's whites have been transformed into something approximating a color between an oriole and a female cardinal. A third smell recently stirred up good thoughts in my mind. Our pod's rec yard abuts the maintenance building. When their door is open, and the wind blows from the south there is a faint smell of machine oil that reminds me of my PaPa's garage where he refurbished washing machines.      

       Dismayingly, the television situation at Granite is a bit archaic, but our Securustech.net tablets offer a wide variety of free podcasts. I hated losing access to TBN and Hillsong channel, but the opportunity to listen to Steven Furtick, Joel O'Steen, Rick Warren and others whenever I choose is a good thing. I also thoroughly enjoy being able to listen to NPR broadcasts including "A Way with Words",  " Wait, Wait Don't Tell Me", "Good Job Brain", "Pop Culture Happy Hour", " the Bible Project", as well as international and science news. Having access to the wide world of TED TALKS has expanded my understanding of a variety of subjects that our limited news outlets are able to touch upon. I can feel my brain actually growing smart again! Now I just need access to Worlde (starting words: birds, quake, whomp). When we went on a statewide lockdown from March 6th-23rd (4) having the ability to tune in to the radio, listen to podcasts, track current legislation, do law research, play video games, and watch movies was very helpful in maintaining a positive outlook.

Surprisingly, the transition to this facility was uncharacteristically well organized and smoothly executed for an OKDOC operation. I was blessed to receive a very good cellie: a non-smoking, non-drug using Christ believer, who has his own money and likes to share his canteen on occasion. He has been gracious enough to allow me to watch the movies he rents and to play the games he downloads. The facility has been conducting random UA's and running a drug dog through the pods on a regular basis, which I find encouraging. Despite the freezing temperatures on my first weekend at Granite, I stayed outside almost every minute I could. After being a caged bird for so long, I was going to stay out of doors for as long as possible. This facility has a large gymnasium and a dedicated handball court, which I am enjoying playing on. I also managed to connect with a good barber, which beats trying to cut my hair with a comb and razorblade as we had to do at Lawton. Like a rooster, I finally felt a bit more stately(5).       

        Ample food availability has been an added bonus of moving to Granite. I have even had to restrict my caloric intake. While I know the inmates left behind at Lawton are still continually hungry  being served cold meal after cold meal presented as globs of loosely congealed unidentifiable mixtures in environmentally devastating Styrofoam trays late into the night on an irregular schedule, those of us blessed enough to have moved to Granite set in the chow hall trying not to burn our tongues on the hot and nutritionally sound meals we are served at consistent and appropriate times of day. We even talk about the weight we are gaining from the deliciously baked fresh yeast rolls, large portions of food, and generous servings of dessert (for the most part wardens know that if they can do two things: feed well and provide multiple television stations  then their populace will be more inclined to present complacent behavior), and deciding what to eat and what to either give away or toss in the garbage bin (which I hate to do because it is so ingrained in me to the core not to waste food). The Kitchen Manager here is following the same OKDOC menu that we had at Crabtree, but makes better choices, serves fresh fruit and vegetables every day, as well as serving the federally mandated and state auditor approved portion sizes. God bless her! It really shows how nutritionally deficient,  fiscally substandard, and under proportioned the meals that Kitchen Manager K____ C____ was serving at Crabtree in order to save money to meet Wardens Dowling and Whitten's restrictive and redirected budgets. I did work in the Crabtree Kitchen for a few months. I was shocked to personally witness boxes stamped USDA APPROVED but also clearly labeled "NOT FOR HUMAN CONSUMPTION". While it may not have contained cormorant, vulture, owl, kite, falcon, raven, nighthawk, sea gull, osprey, ossifrage, hoopoe, or bat(6) it did contain bulk chicken byproduct product that included beaks, feet, and feathers on occasion. This bulk product continually gave me diarrhea and stomach cramps, eventually leading to my choice to eat Kosher. This kitchen is much cleaner too  no cockroaches or mice. The dozen cats on the yard see to that. It also helps that that this manager provides soap to wash hands and dishes with. The brief time I worked in the kitchen at Crabtree there was no soap at the hand washing stations (K____ C____ repeatedly told us that "the friction of rubbing your hands together under the water was good enough to kill germs" when she conducted her health and safety trainings!), and there was never any bleach to sanitize countertops, hot boxes, or other equipment due to lack of, or redirection of, funding. Needless to say, I have migrated into a much more desirable gated community.

Rife with advantages, it is also nice to be back on a yard with an OKDOC Canteen. The privately operated GEO canteen prices were hiked up almost 30% across the board. Ramen soups, a staple of incarceration, were 300% higher when I was there, and since leaving, have now increased to 400% higher than at DOC facilities. A square of ramen that costs $.24 here costs $1.00 at Lawton. The privately owned GEO is like the money changer in the Temple making an unconscionable profit margin off of pigeons from those too poor to make even the smallest sacrifice(7). While I do not purchase much food, it is nice to have access to teabags once again. I have begun drinking tea in the morning and noticed an improvement in my mental and visual acuity as well as lessened joint pains. Unfortunately, this canteen is run by the minimum yard inmates, so my previous eight years of experience as a pay grade level five lead canteen orderly is going untapped. I was really hoping to be able to return to work. It is hard to set around 24/7 without something productive to accomplish each day.

       Emancipation from the private warehousing system immediately brought me a change of environment and an uplifted mood just as Christmas was approaching. While a subtle shift, it is important to no longer be treated as owned property  a living NFT viewed as just another numerical reference in an ambiguous block chain of cell blocks. So, the biggest change personally for me over the past 100 days has been the transfer back onto an OKDOC yard, and I thank the Lord for it. Recently, however, I have noticed that I may be too comfortable and too relaxed on this yard, having let down my guard and allowed a slight eye roll to put someone off. It is a Duke's Mixture of men here, and some still carry their rough edges. An errant eye roll, vocal inflection, or untamed tongue of a bird (8) could still be acrimonious. Many old timers are still as jaded, cruel and unloving as an ostrich(9).

          Noteworthy over the past 100 days is that as the pandemic finally began to wane, Russian President Vladimir Putin invaded Ukraine the day after the winter Olympics ended (3-2-22). I mention this because watching the horrific war crimes of yet another white privileged power-hungry maniac wrenches my heart. I especially found it difficult to view the images of heartbroken families leave each other at train stations and border crossings. In particular the images of young fathers tearfully giving what could be their final hugs and kisses to their young children as they placed them and their wives on trains bound for safety. Those images, those weeping faces, brought back the feelings I experienced every time I had to watch my wife and daughter leave the visiting room at D.L. Moss in Tulsa County. It actually brought flooding back to my mind, my soul, feelings of loneliness and depression that I thought I had conquered. If horcrux's(10) were real, then as my heart broke and divided over and over hundreds of times while at D.L. Moss an eternity of fractals were created. In fact, today marks 8 years since I last heard my daughter's voice: the day my former wife began blocking my phone call. Its been 9 years (March 23, 2013) since I last saw my daughter. My heart continues to moan like a dove longing for justice(11) each time I think of her. My once heart wrenching grief is now a dull nostalgic ache.

The past 100 days have also saw me acknowledge my 5,000,000th minute in prison on day number 3472 (3-4-2022)(12).  I have also been contemplating and writing about family and personal legacy(13)(14) of late. A dozen betwixt years of perjury have quickly passed since my prodigal's rejection. I am ready for the Lord to restore all that He has permitted to be altered. He promises to restore all that the locust have eaten everything that my prodigal's perjury has devoured (15).There are seconds that have lasted a lifetime(16) and there are weeks that have contained decades(17). I am trying to be patient and give my son the time that he needs to repent and recant, but I am not getting any younger and am tired of these fences. The Word declares that the eye that mocks a father and scorns to obey a mother will be picked out by the ravens and eaten by vultures(18). I don't want this for him, but I want my freedom. I vacillate between wanting him to be overwhelmed by quails death (19) and just giving him a big hug and letting him know I forgive him for the lies he carried as a bird's overheard rumor (20). That internal conflict is difficult to navigate on occasion. Thankfully, this yard has an active chaplaincy program that includes a real Celebrate Recovery® program sponsored by the Martha Road Baptist Church. It is so reassuring to be back in familiar territory, with familiar patterns, familiar phrases, and familiar slides and songs as I struggle through this internal conflict and the reemergence of feelings unleashed by Putin induced feelings of loneliness and mild depression. It is my sincere hope that upon my discharge that I will find purposeful and fulfilling ministry opportunities once again in a Celebrate Recovery® program. Every Friday night  of the past 5,000,000 minutes I have lamented to the Lord that I could have been cooking supper for the participants, rolling slides for large group, conducting newcomers’ class, leading a small group, enjoying café time, and cleaning up rather than setting around not doing ministry. There is so much I do not understand about why the Lord permitted the circumstances that led up to the past 5,000,000 minutes, but the Lord promises to provide understanding like a rooster and wisdom like an ibis (21).

Redeeming those 5,000,000 minutes is not too far out in the future, however. I am getting excited at the very real possibility, a suenito, that I could be released before this year in completed. My parole Narrative(22) , Commutation Application(23), and other paperwork are completed, submitted, and have received initial positive reviews. All of my paperwork lists a Count #2 discharge date of 11-10-2022: that's just seven months from now. A concurrent commutation could see me home by Thanksgiving.  Prayerfully, in addition, my prodigal Absolom/Kylo will have his heart softened by our Lord and recant his perjury. When that happens then the 2021 Oklahoma House Bill No. 3511, Oklahoma Second Regular Session of the Fifty-Eighth Legislature will take effect and I can collect  a Government Tort  of $50,000.00 per year of incarceration for false incarceration. That is almost $500,000.00 to date. The truth, and that half million dollars, could go a long way towards mending my family and making us whole. It just depends on lies and liars finally being exposed, my prodigal’s heart being softened and turning back towards me (while he also exposes the facts about how detective Dianah Baumann and ADA's Jake Cain and Sarah McAmis manipulated him, and his testimony and he wins his own civil suit against Tulsa country)  and the truth being revealed.

         Enigmatically, one of the things that continues to perplex me over the past 100 days (the past year actually), is that during the middle of the pandemic, the fallout from the failed January 6, 2021, insurgency, and now the Ukrainian invasion by Vladimir Putin is the obsession that FOX's Tucker Carlson has with being so divisive. Is he the true representation of the WASPy white christian American I am longing so much to rejoin? If so, what do I really have to look forward to upon my release? He has an obsession with the anthropomorphic green M and M trading her boots in for sneakers, the cartoon Minnie Mouse's mini skirt changing into pants suit, the pretend Big Bird receiving an imagined covid vaccine, spotting rhinos, and now advocating for Vladimir Putin! Is he representative of the people I am going to encounter in Tulsa and its churches upon my release? Tucker is scared for his own waning white fragility and is promoting conspiracy theories that he feels undermines his own white superiority as a Christ centric endorsed value. Some people can't roll with change, clinging to archaic pseudo biblical postulation. I guess that the reason he disturbs me so much is because his thinking tracks with those whom I expect that I will be trying to reintegrate with, especially in a church in northeastern Oklahoma. I find that very disheartening. I just feel like I may be up against a clutch of unloving and cruel ostriches(24). One of the few remembrances I hope to carry from this place is the authentic way that those of multiple races and ethnic backgrounds came together to sing, prayer for, and encourage one another in generic, but genuine, protestant worship services. It reminds me a lot of the multinational worship services we would attend in Guangzhou. Regardless of the circumstances, I know that my discharge is covered by His own eagles’ wings (25), He will find me a home as He does for the sparrow and the swallow; He will continue to be my refuge (26).

Actually, contemplating my discharge and beginning to try to come to terms with what my impending release means for me is exciting and at times dreadfully overwhelming. I don't see myself being able to authentically associate with Tucker Carlsonesque endorsing Retrumplicans, which seems to be what fills the churches I would have affiliated with prior to my incarceration. The Word in Isaiah encourages us to "revere God and wait for the Lord, to not call conspiracy [and fake news] everything [Tucker Carlson and Donald Trump] calls conspiracy, and do not fear what they fear, nor be in dread. The Lord of hosts is the one whom you shall honor as holy. He is the one you are to fear and dread (8:11-15)". I am prayerfully trusting the Lord Jehovah Nici to set a banner before me that clears a way home for me, to include bringing restored and new relationships my way. And it will have to be new ways. No doubt there will continue to be a fringe group of people who will never believe me and will want to make my post incarceral life difficult: those supposed "Christian" lawyers, wanna be DA's, and rabid bloggers. But there are also those who have traveled the road of hurts, habits, and hang-ups before me, and whom will be there for me, like Christ was there for them. So, even as I write this, I am receiving an unction, an internalized word of knowledge that I have to let go of even this last small vestige of my preincarceral life and be willing to trust Them enough to walk out in faith and continue to know that They have established a path for me(27). I have thoughts at times of releasing all my dreams of reuniting with my children, dreams of returning to a classroom, dreams of being a grandfather, dreams of easily crossing state lines and international borders to participate in missions work, dreams of being in a position of government leadership to promote social change and influence others, dreams of having the financial freedom to travel. Now must I release my dreams of returning to a church community that I was hoping, in a preretrumplican world, would lovingly accept me back? Am I the new sea monster of Porto Rosso? That makes me so disappointed and disillusioned with my life and in what it appears God is allowing to happen. I just need to silence the Bruno in my head and hold on to my dreams (28). Just as the Lord encouraged Job, since it is not even within my understanding how a hawk takes flight or an eagle builds its eerie(29), I just need to trust that I am covered by his pinions(30) as a hen protects her chicks(31). He will turn the loneliness I have experienced, like that of a sparrow on the rooftop or an owl in the ruins(32), into the splendor of a peacock(33) as I discharge my sentence.

Latent truth is truth. Conspiracy, fake news, and perjury will not stand up in the end. My discharge won't actually change the so-called facts that my prodigal clings to, but at least I can experience some form of restored freedom. Truth will be known however  God promises it. My future is in His hands. He promises it. As surely as He cares for the flowers of the field and the birds of the air, He care for me. He promises it. It is not a conspiracy theory or fake news. When the doves coo and the caged bird sings, it will be time to go home (34). He promises it. He will, eventually, even if it is not until we gather at His White Throne of judgement, expose the fake, the conspiratorial, and the perjurious. He promises it. Then we will all know that "those who wait for the Lord shall renew their strength  they shall mount up with wings like eagles  they shall run and not be weary  they shall walk and not faint(35)". He will prove that birds ARE real and that He finds each one of them, and me, valuable(36), as I find refuge under His pinions.

 

endnotes

 

(1) Jeremiah 8:7 (turtledove, swallow, crane, stork, swift, thrush)

(2) Exodus 19:4 (eagles wings)

(3) read Day #_______ January 2022

(4) the issue was presumable caused due to territorial scruffs caused by all of the transfers and movements between yards at the end of 2021. Specifically, there were flare ups between the UAB's and the Crops over whom was in charge if which portions of certain yards and as a result of a homicide within the Oklahoma County Jail.

(5) Proverbs 30:31 (rooster)

(6) Leviticus 11:19 (cormorant, vulture, owl, kite, falcon, raven, nighthawk, sea gull, osprey, ossifrage, hoopoe, bat)

(7) Matthew 21:12 (pigeon)

(8) James 3:7-8

(9) Job 39:13 (ostrich)

(10) read Day #1500 10/9/2016   (horcrux)

(11) Isaiah 59:11 (dove)

(12) read Day # 3472 5,000,000 minutes

(13) read legacy #1 day # 1-24-2022

(14) read Legacy #2 day# 3-12-2022

(15) Joel 2:25  Jeremiah 12:6a,9b a relative will betray you  Lamentations 3:52 those who hated me without reason hunted me like a bird  like a cage full of birds full of deceit (Jer. 5:27)

(16) read Day #  2100 6-1-2018 A second can last a lifetime

(17) Lenin?

(18) Proverbs 30:17 (raven, vultures)

(19) Num. 11:31-32  Ex. 16:13  PS. 105:40  Pr. 1:17  6:5  7:23, 26:2, 27:8  Is.16:2, 31:5,34  Zep. 2

(20) Pr. 10:20

(21) Job 38

(22) read Narrative 9-1-2022

(23) Commutation or my future plans

(24)Job 39:13  La. 4:3 (ostrich)

(25) Duet. 32:11  Ps. 17:8, 36:7, 57:1, 61:4, 63:7

(26) Ps. 11:1, 124:7, 84:3

(27) read Day #   300 6-27-2013    NO DICE/663423

(28) Job 39 (eagle, hawk)

(29) from Disney's Luca

(30) Psalms 91 (pinions)

(31) Matthew 23:27 (Hens/chicks)

(32) Psalms 102:6-7(owl, sparrow)

(33) 1 Kings 10:22 (peacock)

(34) Ecc. 9:12, 12:4  Hos. 11:11  Song 2:11

(35) Isaiah 40:31, Psalms 103:5 (eagles)

(36) Matthew 6:25-34 (God values even the birds)

 

 

#pangram

#Luca

#birds aren't real   NYTimes/thedaily/February 9, 2022