11 years too long

 It was 11 years ago today that I last saw my daughter. The emptiness in my heart is heavier than you would think.

Lost Jewelry

    Many thanks to members of the Crossings, Park Plaza, and Bixby Prison Ministry Team Members who have been reading my Reflections and reaching out to me. Every note, card, uttered prayer, and kind word of affirmation you offer when you come see us on Sunday mornings is deeply cherished.

    One of the hardest obstacles to overcome in prison is making a trusted friend and confidante. I was so blessed to have a few such trusted friends preincarceration. Everyone needs a Mark, a Beth, a LaToya, a Joyce, a Stephanie, a Jon, a Mitch, and a Kimberly in their lives.     While I was incarcerated at Crabtree I had a few men and a couple of staff members that knew my "history". There were some of my Addicts at the Cross participants whom knew my past hurts and struggles, but did not actually know much of my "history". Nobody had a complete picture. I was just making headway towards true friendship with a select few men when I left in 2020. Leaving when Covid hit without being able to say goodbye and having closure was difficult.     When I arrived at Jess Dunn in December 2022 I was mildly depressed and lonely. I cried out to King Jesus for a friend, and he answered. The man he had me cross paths with was unique to say the least. We both stepped out in faith and shared all of our hurts, our hangups, and our "history" with each other. In a very rare step I shared all of my legal issues with him. He quickly saw through the bullshit and made the choice to associate with me, even though it may have cost him some of his affiliations and standing on the yard.     As our relationship has grown we have shared all of the good, the bad, and the ugly. Some of his childhood years were very, very ugly (I wish Brandon could meet him, get an understanding of what "abuse" is truly like, and feel some shame for his weaponized lies). Because our relationship has grown so deep and because we live together, eat together, work together, and workout together evey single day he realized that something was amis recently. Because he is one of the most observant and introspective people that I know, he was able to use his newly acquired listening and communications skills from Conners State (He graduates in May) and parse that I was not acknowledging and confronting my unspoken sadness about missing out on another Valentine's day, another wedding anniversary (should have been #29), and another of my former life partner's birthdays.

    In an effort to convey to me that he was able to empathize with my unspoken grief he composed this poem as a way to say, "I understand. I acknowledge your pain." The gift of his time and talent meant/means so much to me that I want to share it with you all in hopes that you can appreciate my friend as much as I do. I hope it affects you as much as it did me. *Recommended accompaniment while reading: The Lightening Kids, "Fast Car." All of Those Nights. 2022 - - - - - - - - - - - -

Lost Jewelry

by Christopher James McDonald (March 2024)

Memories

Walking hand in hand

Learning to listen

I was your witness

Lost in the moment

Lost in your eyes

Before I was to become

Your husband

Before we walked the aisle

And I said I do

Your mother in black

In the front pew

Who knew that

Life would bring

Memories

Long walks

Through life through the park

A lost earring

I searched for hours

After dark

Recovered jewelry

I lost my heart

You knew me

My first

Recovered jewelry

That's why it hurts

To lose you

To take this ring off my finger

Lost Jewelry

Memories

How far we would go

From those long walks in the park

Kids and careers

Big Ben, the Eiffel tower

The Hong Kong market

At the midnight hour

The world was ours

It could still be

But right now my world is

Memories

Long walks

Through life through the park

A lost earring

I searched for hours

After dark

Recovered jewelry

I lost my heart

You knew me

My first

Recovered jewelry

That's why it hurts

To lose you

To take this ring off my finger

Lost Jewelry

Memories

From way back when

That was then and

This is now

I never imagined our son's lie

Could cost me my life

That I would lose my wife

I've lost my freedom and my wedding ring

Yet even when it's hard to breath

I remember Kimberly

I lost everything

But Memories

Long walks

Through life through the park

A lost earring

I searched for hours

After dark

Recovered jewelry

I lost my heart

You knew me

My first

Recovered jewelry

That's why it hurts

To take this ring

off my finger

Lost jewelry

Memories

I hold on to each day

Hoping to again

See your face

When I said I do

It was 100 percent

Till death do us part

Not even then

Each silent prayer

I pray for you

Because you're still

My Kim, Amen

I still love you

And our children

2000 More Days

 As of today I only have 2000 more days of incarceration ahead of me, at the most. The OKDOC and our State Legislature is quietly finding creative ways to give credits for good time, classes, and excellent program performance. I WILL NOT be here for those full 2000 days!

The State Legislature has remunerated an encumbered piece of legislation from the fall: 2023 Oklahoma House Bill No.3455, Oklahoma Second Regular Session of the Fifty-Ninth Legislature OKLAHOMA BILL TEXT TITLE: Classification of felony offenses creating the Oklahoma Crime Reclassification Act of 2024 requiring persons who commit criminal offenses to be classified in accordance with certain structure codification effective date. Thank Jesus for State Legislators like McCall, McDugal, Talley and others whom are finally, publicly, calling out malicious, manipulative, and marionetting District Attorneys for putting their desire to "win" over actual truth and justice. I can not wait to write in my journal tomorrow morning: only 1999 days to go. I WILL BE out sooner than you know. Lies and liars WILL BE exposed and all truth WILL BE revealed, in Jesus name!!

The Ghost In Your DNA

    I have tried to write this day #4200 Reflection so many times. I keep deleting words, crumpling up notes, and quitting in frustration as I grapple with a wide range of emotions and resentments. I usually try to be positive, make relevant connections to culture, and express how I am coping the past 100 days in these Reflections but I just cannot seem to pull it all together this time around. Tomorrow should have been my 32nd wedding anniversary, instead, I remain rejected and abandoned by my former spouse, son, and daughter resigned to living on a Department of Corrections minimum yard (although a very well run and safe minimum yard), in a state of permanent #HurkleDurkle. Recently, my Commutation request was denied, and I am too pissed off at God to write anything but about how raw and aggrieved that I am. I really do not want to post anything at all for this 100 day Reflection. However, this is the entire purpose I set out to do when I decided to create this blog and write these Reflections every one hundred days: to give the reader an honest peak into the incarceral journey that I am on.

    After an almost two year long wait to have my commutation application read by the Pardon and Parole Board after its 2022 submission, On January 27th (the day marking the 6,000,000th minute of my incarceration) I wrote about my grief upon learning that that Board denied me relief(1). I doubt that they read any of the application pausing after reacting to the weaponized false allegations of my son and the subsequent charges of abuse and lewdness.     Maybe I am finding it hard to write presently because I am so incensed with my Higher Power. I am still reading my daily devotionals, but refuse to crack open His Bible. I am still talking to King Jesus and Holy Spirit, but I want little to do with the Old Testament Creator God right now. I am closed off. Just writing this out is wrenching my guts and causing my temples to throb because I feel gaslighted, again and then I experience guilt and shame as I feel like I am betraying Him by ignoring Him. Vile words of hate churn in my mind and heart toward this Higher Power. I am so disenchanted with this God I grew up being told that 𝅘𝅥𝅮𝅘𝅥𝅯 loved me so 𝅘𝅥𝅮𝅘𝅥𝅯, told that He would always be there for me, and told that He is always working for my good. This languishing incarceration due to the weaponized false allegations of my son feels neither loving, nor being there for me, nor is working for my good.

    Actually, when I think about what it is that specifically pisses me off I am able to narrow it down a little bit. Surprisingly, it is not actually about being incarcerated, in as much as incarceration represents communal living. I do not mind living in a closely linked community at all. In fact I enjoy it, find it an example of Biblical admonition, and it reminds me of the villages I served as a missionary to in Mexico, Nicaragua, and Honduras. Even living in the Dung-Fungi-Lo area of Guangzhou, in the Gaungdon Providence of southern China, was like living in a micro community where families, neighbors, and businesses were interconnected. I can deal with, actually enjoy, and thrive in this aspect of prison (though it would be nice to be around women and children). What pisses me off most about my Creator Sovereign is that He continues to allow this unjust and languishing captivity. His ongoing authorization for the persistence of Brandon's weaponized false allegations, being stripped of my voting rights, having limited recourse to a grievance process for the injustices inside of prison, as well as being separated from my children, my close friends, my former life partner, and my parents is unwarrantable. There seems to be nobody advocating for me or my release. No squeaky wheel to get oiled. What really, really peeves me is my absolute knowledge and hard wired belief that IF He wanted to, He would only have to cast a mere thought my way and my circumstances would change: yet He has not. Why not? Unfortunately(?) for me, I have an unassailable and absolute trust in Him and His word to the point that I know that He will continue to allow me to remain incarcerated if my incarceration serves His purpose in another area of my life, or in the life of another person: and that is truly what is at the root of this temporary, yet intense, agony that I am sorting out right now. I need to muster what it takes to just forgive God for His inexcusable actions and inactions. I need to quit equating Him to my wounds and just get over myself, stop grieving, and move on.....but that is not as easy to put into action as it is to write about.     Noticeably, in response to my grief I have surrendered to "letting off of the gas" and capitulated just a little bit more to my incarceration. My language is beginning to reflect those whom I live with, rather than the other way around. I sound like a newly minted sailor just learning to cuss. I cannot look at a cookie without acting on the desire to shove it into my mouth. My attitude has shifted to more soul driven behaviors, rather than Spirit led behaviors. I have lost my enthusiasm to run and do abdominal work. After years of eagerly looking forward to running a 5k every day, I now have to force myself to endure a run every other day. I have spent the past 2-3 years sculpting a 50+ year old dad-bod into one that is lean (I weigh 158 pounds) and mean. My recent health checks have consistently shown my blood pressure to be 112/70 with a resting pulse rate of 44. However, the past month I just do not care. When I thought that there was the possibility of hope for release this summer I worked hard to earn this flat stomached, hard calved, chiseled face facade. I wanted my former life partner to regret her choice to abandon me when she saw how I rocked this 55+ year old body, was actively dating, and producing new offspring. My fellow inmates are surprised all of the time that I am not 35-40, rather than almost being 60.

    Essentially the only places that I am finding peace and fulfillment right now are either at work (CareerTech), meditating it the sweat lodge, sitting in front of a Scrabble® board(2), or worshipping at Crossings Church on Sunday mornings. I wrote about my recent times of prayer in the sweat lodge on January 5th. Being able to participate in this prayer ritual allows me to find some solace, clarity, and purpose. Crossings Church and their live broadcast service each week appeals to my humanistic and psychological needs, thus bringing me some rationality and logic based comfort.     While I am upset with Father, I do give King Jesus credit for preparing me for the denial of relief. He spent the past year giving birth to a tremendous and surprising new friendship. He orchestrated to have someone set with me in the ashes (3) when I received the news of my denial. This challenging friendship has sustained me and helped pull/push me through my grief. Dante is quoted as saying "noi non potemo aver perfetta vita senza amici", or " a perfect life needs friends". Despite having King Jesus' and a new brother's consolation, I still feel walloped. Surprisingly, I can identify with the multi-award winning song from the recent blockbuster hit, Barbie:

I used to float, now I just fall down. / I used to know but I'm not sure now. / What was I made for, what was I made for? / Taking a drive, I was an ideal. / Looked so alive, / turns out I'm not real, / Just something you paid for. / What was I made for? / 'Cause I, I know. / I don't know how to feel. / But I wanna try. / I don't know how to feel, /but someday, I might. / Someday I might. / When did it all end? / All the enjoyment, / I'm sad again. / What was I am made for? / 'Cause I, 'Cause I / I don't know how to feel. / But someday I might. / Someday I might. / Think I forgot how to be happy. / Something I'm not, / But something I can be. / Something I wait for. / Something I'm made for. / Something I'm made for.

    Moving forward I do find myself querying Holy Spirit, "What am I being remade for? My 20's, 30's, and early 40's had such purpose. I even justified the first part of my incarceration telling myself that I was being prepared for some new and purposeful work. I was able to compartmentalize my life pre- and post- incarceration. Even while in prison I have been able to compartmentalize, but with the denial of my Commutation everything has confluenced, exploded, and changed. Now, at 55+, I struggle to see any good purpose in continuing to be incarcerated. In fact, every day that I am further incarcerated I seem to be more and more disconnected from my past. Every day that I am further incarcerated I give up on reconciliation and restoration with my children. Every day that I am further incarcerated my parents and I feel that they will die before seeing me freed(4), much less exonerated. I used to see a way forward that was linked to my past, but now I have given up on that notion. Even if I were to get out today, I feel that I would be starting all over, from scratch. I am not certain who wrote this, but it seems poignant right now:

Tear up your contract with your past. / They can refuse our love. /

They can refuse our name. / They can refuse to visit. / They can refuse to write. / They can refuse contact. / But they can't refuse my prayers.

    Agonizingly, I feel this way about my children right now, especially my son. After 15 years of no contact I have no reasonable aspirations of ever being his father again. Diane Setterfield writes in Once Upon A River, "Sometimes I think there is nothing more a man can do. A child is not an empty vessel to be formed in whatever way the parent thinks fit. They are born with their own hearts and they cannot be made otherwise, no matter what love a man lavishes on them. What more could I have done? What did I miss? Eh? We loved him, didn't we? I took him about with me and showed him the world. I taught him what I knew...He knew all wrong from right. He had that from me. He cannot say he did not know." My friend, CMcD, recently wrote a poem that also speaks to this notion of being a forsaken and absent father:

The world tried to break me. / But it only made me. / More than man / It made me. / Human. / I am more than / The ghost / In your DNA. / I am a new man / Created through pain. / I am / The echo in the mirror. / A memory / In the shape of your face. / The life / Flowing through your veins. / I am more / Than / The ghost / In your DNA. / The witness / Of your conception. / Your first breath. / The first step. / You would ever take. / Blood of my blood. / I am the one / Who is /

More than the ghost in your DNA. / I am the father you choose to forget. / I am the man you forsake. / I am

    None the less I guess that is all my relationship with my children is destined to be: the ghost in their DNA as I move forward, down river, into my life's new purpose. Maybe CMcD's poem also speaks to how I feel about my Creator Higher Power, or more significantly, how He feels about me and my grievance's with Him: He is I AM. He is the ghost in my DNA. My life was something He paid for. I may be sad still, for a while. But there is still something I can be, something I can wait for. There is something new I am made for: more than just being the ghost in my children's DNA, and I'm ready to find out what that is. ENDNOTES (1) On the same day that I received the devastating news that my Commutation was denied, my bunkie was moved to another yard, allowing me to move to a bottom bunk 14 months earlier than I had planned. What a consolation prize! (2) My Nephson/Friend/Brother-in-Christ, CMcD, and I have a very competitive streak when it comes to working out, both physically and mentally. We have championship "belts" that transfer between us, that get displayed on our bunks, depending on whom is the current reigning Scrabble®, Jeopardy®, or Trivia Pursuit® winner. (3) Job 39-42 (4) My 75 and 77 year old parents continue to downsize their lives. After 12 years of holding on to my "stuff", by their choice, they have given up on seeing me released and have finally donated all of my property to charity. This heart breaking, heart wrenching decision on their part marked the beginning, or un-pausing, of their grieving process for me. They have given up hope of seeing God bring justice in their remaining life time. Watching them come to this realization and grapple with their own painful remorse just compounds my own dissatisfaction, disappointment, and dissolution with the sovereign Jehovah Shalom. #i am a new man #hurkledurkle