An evening in prison

This evening I went to prison. Luckily, it was only for a short time, and they let me out! The occasion was the volunteer appreciation dinner at the Washington Corrections Center for Women (WCCW)

I accompanied a parishioner, Norma, who goes to the prison once a week to teach inmates how to make quilts. Norma has been doing this for about eight years and has developed a passion for her ministry with the women in prison. I saw her interact with her quilting students and it was clear there is a lot of love between them.

This is my second visit to WCCW, and both times I've found myself unaccountably nervous as I surrender my drivers license, my keys and my wallet and watch the locked gates close behind me. Prisons are serious institutions.

Before we entered, we had to wait half an hour because the inmate count was not right, and they had to count all over again. Apparently this happens fairly often. Someone said, "WCCW stands for, 'We Can't Count Women.'"

About 100 volunteers were there for the dinner held in the prison gym - everyone from quilters to Bible study leaders to musicians. There were even two Muslim women present. After a dinner of baked potatoes and toppings, we heard a speech from an inmate in the Toastmasters program. She told her life story: an alcoholic father who left her mother, drug use and neglect by her mother, being put in foster homes and becoming rebellious, running away, joining a gang, her own drug use, babies, losing the babies to foster homes, committing a crime and finally getting her life together in prison. She was a good speaker and a strong woman, and I admired her greatly.

The prison choir sang for us, and what a sound! Nineteen women were directed by a talented African-American woman volunteer. They came out singing an African marching song a capella, and their voices were strong and clear. They performed several Gospel songs, and you could see their faces light up as they sang their hearts out. One of the songs said, "Give me a clean heart, and I'll follow thee."

One woman in the Creative Expressions class read a poem she wrote that began with gratitude. "Gratitude for every day. Gratitude for the air I breath. Gratitude for the light in the sky." I was impressed that she could be grateful even when living behind bars.

I felt that the the atmosphere in the room was one of love and gratitude. The volunteers sacrifice a lot of their time, and you could tell they receive back more than they give. And the inmates were truly grateful. It was very touching. I'm glad I could attend.
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