Do you have questions about God? Are you interested in learning about Him? In 2017 I faced many challenges and felt the strain. Oddly, despite these difficulties, I was more at peace than I’d ever been. Do you desire peace? Do you need rest? Listen today and learn how you can begin today, through a saving relationship with Jesus Christ!

TRANSCRIPT

Do you know what it means to be born again? Are you certain that you have eternal life in God?

During the summer of 2017 I was fighting to keep my son and maintain relationships with my family. God would use these events to open my eyes in a whole new way to the things that are important. Discover with me the truth about sin and personal transformation.

We’ll reveal where to get started in having a personal, saving relationship with Jesus and how you can begin today! Listen until the end, you don’t want to miss a word – this is Born Bad!

“I was kicked out of Anthony,” I overheard.

I turned in my chair to see who was speaking. Vikki, one of the ABE students, was talking with the teacher, Ms. Shaibley. It was a Monday afternoon in August 2016 and the school day was nearly over. I was at my desk reading my mail.

Facing a trial for my parental rights next month, I believed the psych evaluation I’d done in 2012 might help me, however I was having trouble requesting a copy from the psych department. I was frustrated and upset. Time was running out.

“What happened?” I heard our teacher, Ms. Shaibley, ask Vikki. She set down her work to give Vikki her full attention.

As Vikki responded the P.A. system overhead burst to life, drowning out the answer. “Two-thirty movement is open! Movement is open!” I watched Ms. Shaibley console Vikki but couldn’t hear what was said.

Vikki was a small person, shorter even than my 5-foot frame. Quite a bit older than me, Vikki came to prison with a third-grade education. I was shocked when she told me she’d left school permanently at age 9.

She lived, or had lived, in the Anthony unit, also known as the parenting unit. Vikki had no young children herself, rather she was a helper for those in the unit who did. When I arrived at prison in 2011, the Anthony unit was giving incarcerated moms the opportunity to have their children spend the weekend with them in prison. The children slept in the same room as their mother, on trundle beds kept under the mother’s bunk.

Not long after my prison orientation, drugs were found in Anthony and kid overnights were suspended. This discovery left everyone dismayed. It was announced that the suspension would last 90 days, however soon drugs were found again. Eventually overnights were abandoned altogether.

The prison readjusted its parenting program to include all-day Saturday visits for children whose moms lived in Anthony. These fun visits often included special holiday parties and special decorations were made by the Anthony unit to celebrate. All women living in Anthony helped, and Vikki was one of these women.

Catching up to Vikki after class I walked beside her as we exited the Core Building. “I heard you mention moving to a new unit,” I began. “What’s going on?”

Vikki shrugged and sighed as she answered, “They did room inspections and found an extra pillowcase in my linens.” She shook her head ruefully, adding, “I didn’t realize that was so serious .”

Linens, or bed sheets and towels, were distributed weekly on “Linen Exchange Day.” Inmates were required to strip their beds and fold all linens neatly in a stack. Wing by wing each unit would call women to the day room to receive new, clean linens.

Vikki, like many women, had probably kept extra linens so she could wash them in her preferred brand of detergent, disliking the harsh industrial smelling soap used by the DOC. One could receive permission to do this, but most women didn’t ask.

Vikki’s comment drew me up short. I’d begun working to identify sinful behavior in my life. It wasn’t as easy as I thought it would be, so I asked God to show me my sins.

Now I thought of my own linens. While I did not have extra sheets or towels, I was keeping an extra blanket and pillow. I’d gained the extra blanket from a past roommate who had permission for it. She gave it to me when she went home. Unlike the blanket, I had stolen the extra pillow right out from under a guard’s nose.

I recall my theft clearly. I was sitting in the dayroom and noticed a pile of pillows and a bag next to the guard desk. “What’s all of that?” I asked someone near me.

“Missy is moving,” was the reply.

“Why does she have so many pillows?” I asked and was told Missy had M.S. My own pillow was neither plump nor soft. ‘I could use another one, a better one!’ I thought.

Storing up courage I quickly made my move. Walking past the pile I bent and lifted a pillow on the way to my room. I’d kept the pillow and extra blanket ever since.

I was surprised I hadn’t thought about this recently.  I wanted to obey God. At first, I’d determined to follow rules I knew about. After a while I realized that my “rules don’t matter” attitude had blinded me to what many rules were!

So, I’d dug up my policy handbook. Reading the rules, I’d then sought to do better. Linens, however, had not crossed my mind.

Returning to my room that afternoon I folded my extra blanket and grabbed the pillow. I peaked out of my room and down the stairs. Officer Letcher was at the guard desk. I was hoping no one would see me when I left the items at the desk. Now, I briefly considered leaving the items without a word to Letcher but thought better of it.

Tiptoeing down the stairs with my arms full I waited at the desk. “I have these extra items,” I said quietly, “I’ll leave them here.” Letcher appeared surprised and didn’t respond. I quickly turned and hurried back upstairs.

Thinking again of my upcoming trial, I decided to call my oldest son Noel. “Hi Noel, how are you?” I asked as soon as he answered. We talked for a bit and then I asked as I had several times all summer, “Have you called Tim?”

I wanted to encourage family connections, which had become increasingly important to me. I was becoming quickly frustrated, however, with my family’s lack of enthusiasm. I could understand their anger towards me, but I did not understand ignoring my young son Tim. Once again Noel answered me, “No, not yet.”

The strain of the looming trial was increasing my stress. Everything took on an importance it wouldn’t otherwise have. Hanging up the phone I went to my room and stewed. I decided to write Noel an email expressing my concerns about Tim and my frustration with Noel.

Soon I received an email response from Noel. He was angry.  While it was a short email, it was vicious. After that Noel stopped talking to me too.

 Checking my mailbox a few days later I saw another response from psych. After weeks of wrangling with them to receive a copy of my tests, they had relented, but they insisted a therapist be in the room with me while I reviewed my records. The supervising therapist was one I’d had issue with the in the past.

My stomach tightened remembering the previous year when I’d asked for counseling sessions and had been paired with an intern. Our first session was our last. Seated in a small room in the mental health unit, I’d faced her, my new therapist. Between us lay a table and windows facing out toward the guard desk.

“How can I help you today?” she asked.

“I want to be well prepared for my release,” I answered. “I do not know what to expect for reentry, but I want to do well. I have a question for you,” I added. Nodding, she waved to me to continue. “How much experience do you have with inmate reentry and the possible stresses one might experience?”

Her eyes narrowed. Crossing her arms over her chest she leaned back and demanded, “What do you mean by that?”

Confused by her reaction I tried to explain further, “Well, I do not know what to expect when I’m released. I imagine it could be difficult for me, however I don’t know in what ways. I’d like to prepare. I’m asking if that’s something you can help me with.”

Her eyes had grown dark with anger as I spoke. Sucking in a breath she launched, “HOW DARE YOU! How dare you question my education and skills! Who do you think you are?” Spit flew onto the table as she raised her voice higher, “What gives you the right to question my abilities? You should be ashamed of yourself!” She finished with a shrill shriek.

The room echoed with silence as I stared at her in shock. She’d scooted further back in her chair. She began tapping her toe. She challenged me to respond. I began slowly in a near whisper, “I wasn’t doing that at all. I had already assumed that your assignment here today means you are qualified for the work of a therapist. I’d have no reason to think otherwise. I was asking how familiar you are with the incarceration experience and reentry.” Her posture remained tense.

Looking around the small room I felt the walls closing in. I was scared and intimidated by her outburst. I wanted to leave badly but didn’t know how to end this. Tentatively I spoke up, “I am very uncomfortable,” I started. Her toe tapping sped up. “I’d like to return to my room please,” I finished.

Waving a hand at the door she said nothing. After a moment’s pause, I fled from the room. Still wanting the help I’d requested I wrote a kite to the intern’s supervisor. I shared my recent experience. The supervisor’s response was brief, “No. You can resolve your issue with the intern I gave you or have no therapy at all.”

This supervisor was the appointed person to sit with me now while I reviewed my tests. What I didn’t know was that this appointment was about to be an answer to prayer in a very unusual way.

A week later I found myself at Monahan, the mental health unit, sitting in another small room. The door opened and the supervisor entered holding my file. She set it before me and sat against the wall quietly. The room seemed tense with her in it.

I flipped it open, not sure what to expect. Inside was a 15-page report, written years ago by treatment staff. I flipped through it, hoping to quickly find what I was looking for – positive statements about my mental health. After a few minutes of scanning, I realized I may need to review each page instead. The first 9 pages were written reports based on interviews I’d had with staff. I skipped to the bottom of page 10 and found the results of my written assessments.

It began well enough, stating, “Ms Aho did not exaggerate or approach the test in a guarded manner. She did not attempt to portray herself in either a favorable or disfavorable light. Results suggest that she was cooperative, attentive and focused.”

Relaxing a little, I continued to read and was immediately stopped short. I read, “Results suggest that Ms. Aho tends to be self-centered, insensitive, lacks empathy and demands attention and affection.” Slowly I read the rest of the paragraph which included phrases like “irresponsible, unreliable, moody and resentful.”

I set down the report and took a breath, considering. Cautiously I peaked at the next page and found more of the same. Another page turn and more of the same. I had not read this report when it was made 4 years earlier, but if I had I would have been angry and hurt. It was still painful to read even now, however I felt hopeful now instead of crushed.

I could see the truth in these words, and I knew Jesus could transform me. I saw the “before” in my soon to be “after” story. I rejoiced that God was opening my eyes to truth and answering prayer. I reached for my notebook and pen, which I’d brought with me. I began taking notes, page after page, as time ticked away.

After a bit I wondered how much time I had left. There was still a lot to take in. “Um, can I take more notes?” I asked the supervisor, who remained sitting quietly. Xerox copies might take more than a week to receive.

With a look of sympathy she nodded, adding, “I know these can be difficult to read.”

I turned to face her and replied with certainty, “Oh this is all true. Or it was anyway.” Surprise lit up her face as she read my eyes. I nodded at my pen and paper adding, “I’ve been praying for God to show me my own sin. Here’s an entire report about them. I want to start doing better today.” I returned my gaze to the table, lifting the report.

The supervisor thought a moment, her features softening. She stood and held out her hand. “Would you like me to make copies for you? I can do that right now.” She smiled. Now it was my turn to be surprised. I looked up into her face, now open and kind. I nodded eagerly and handed her the pages.

Later in my own room I puzzled over the conclusion of the report, which started, “she will likely resist psychological interpretations of her problems and when the reality of a situation is pointed out, she may be unable to see her role in it and claim the clinician simply doesn’t understand her.” I had not read this report when it was first created in 2012, but I knew if I had, that is exactly what I would have done. I would have been angry and hurt, fiercely defending myself.

It finished with the statement, “Treatment prognosis is poor, as her problems appear characterlogical and not readily amenable to change.”

I’d never seen the word “characterlogical” before and wondered what it meant. Not finding the word in a dictionary I went to the guard desk for help. I found Officer Letcher sitting at his computer and explained the problem. Would he look the word up online? He did and I learned something important.

I learned it meant “relating to character.” In essence it meant – born that way. The report was saying I was born with all these bad things and the person writing the report obviously believed a leopard doesn’t change its spots.

Considering, I lifted my eyes again to the paragraph just above, reading again, “she will likely resist psychological interpretations of her problems.” Well that was not true anymore, was it? I saw truth here on every page, an accurate description of my life and myself. What did that suggest? That I was a new creature. I smiled at the thought and thanked God for my new life.

I didn’t have anything here that would help me at trial, but I’d received an even bigger answer to prayer and evidence of God’s work in my life. Nothing is impossible with God!

Listener, how well do you understand what sin is? Did you know that the Bible provides a definition for us? It says in I John 3:

‘Everyone who commits sin is guilty of lawlessness; for that is what sin is, lawlessness, the breaking, violating of God’s law by transgression or neglect – being unrestrained and unregulated by His commands and His will.’

Sin is any thoughts or behaviors we have that do not accurately reflect God’s perfect character and nature. What does God say is the purpose of the law? Paul says in Romans 3:

¹⁹ Now we know that whatever the law says, it says to those who are under the law, so that every mouth may be silenced and the whole world held accountable to God. ²⁰ Therefore no one will be declared righteous in God’s sight by the works of the law; rather, through the law we become conscious of our sin.

I mentioned that sin is anything that does not perfectly reflect God’s nature. The book of Hebrews tells us that Jesus is the One Person Who never sinned. It says:

He is the sole expression of the glory of God, and He is the perfect imprint and very image of [God’s] nature

Jesus perfectly expresses the nature of God, because He is God. Why does it matter that Jesus is God, and not merely a man? The rest of this verse says:

When He had by offering Himself accomplished our cleansing of sins and riddance of guilt, He sat down at the right hand of the divine Majesty on high,

Perhaps you understand the idea of an innocent person willingly taking the punishment a guilty person deserves. An innocent human being, however, can only do this once for one person. Why? Because the value of one human life is one human life.

How many human lives is God worth? Since He is Creator, the answer is infinite human lives. He is the Author of life. Jesus can only take away the sin of all people if He is worth more than one man, in other words, if He is God, Creator of all things. Hebrews also tells us in chapter 1:

[But] in ^[b]the last of these days He has spoken to us in [the person of a] Son, Whom He appointed Heir and lawful Owner of all things, also by and through Whom He created the worlds and the reaches of space and the ages of time [He made, produced, built, operated, and arranged them in order].

How should we respond to this information today? Jesus tells us in John 3:

I assure you, most solemnly I tell you, that unless a person is born again (anew, from above), he cannot ever see the kingdom of God.

What is the kingdom of God? It says in Mark 1 that the kingdom of God is at hand. The Bible tells us eternal life is not a place or future state. John 17 says

And this is eternal life: [it means] to know (to perceive, recognize, become acquainted with, and understand) You, the only true and real God, and [likewise] to know Him, Jesus [as the] Christ (the Anointed One, the Messiah), Whom You have sent.

The kingdom of God is His sphere of influence, His power and you cannot even see His influence and His power, cannot know or understand Him, unless you are born again, spiritually reborn.

How is one born again? I John 5 tells us:

Everyone who believes (adheres to, trusts, and relies on the fact) that Jesus is the Christ (the Messiah) is a born-again child of God; and everyone who loves the Father also loves the one born of Him (His offspring).

² By this we come to know (recognize and understand) that we love the children of God: when we love God and obey His commands.

If you do not know for certain today that you are a born again child of God, I encourage you to ask God to teach you and lead you to that step today. Jesus said in John 6:

40 For this is My Father’s will and His purpose, that everyone who sees the Son and believes in and cleaves to and trusts in and relies on Him should have eternal life, and I will raise him up [from the dead] at the last day….It is written in [the book of] the Prophets, And they shall all be taught of God [have Him in person for their Teacher]. Everyone who has listened to and learned from the Father comes to Me—…I assure you, most solemnly I tell you, he who believes in Me [who adheres to, trusts in, relies on, and has faith in Me] now possesses eternal life.

Dear Jesus, I pray for the person listening right now, and I pray for me. Give us deeper understanding of You. Draw us into an intimate relationship with you. Lead all who do not yet know You to saving knowledge of the Truth. Help us to love each other and obey You today. Amen!

Discover extra content in the blog post “Passing” Summer!

The summer of 2016 found me discovering God in a whole new way. Convicted of sins I’d thought nothing of in the past, I sought to surrender to God and experience victory over sin. This new path would take me through dangerous situations as well as improved relationships with others.

This surrender, with the Holy Spirit leading, would deliver amazing transformation and spiritual growth, as well as self-discipline I’d always longed for and felt I lacked.

Are you facing a journey filled with temptation? Are you searching for victory in your life? This episode will hit home for you and give you hope for tomorrow!

Join me on this journey!

TRANSCRIPT

Are you eager to obey God, yet find yourself falling victim to temptation over and over?

The summer of 2016 I began learning what it means to serve and obey God. As I sought to meet the needs of others God would show me His methods are better than my own. Join me as I gain new insights into honoring God and loving others. Discover with me the path to healing as you serve in your community.

We’ll uncover the secret to contentment in any situation and how you can begin today! Listen until the end, you don’t want to miss a word. This is Passing Summer.

“Noel, do you have Tim’s newest phone number?” I asked my oldest son. I was concerned about Tim and felt certain additional support from family and friends would help.

“I do,” Noel replied. “I have not called him lately though,” he added. I imagined Noel busy with his work in the Army Reserves as well as his regular job.

“Could you call?” I queried. “I think he’s lonely and would love some time with a big brother.” Mentally I urged Noel to agree.

“Yeah, I can do that,” Noel answered. “I’ll try later this week.”

Satisfied, I headed to my room. It was July 2016, 2 months to go before the trial that might terminate my parental rights with Tim. I was running out of people to call who might take him out of foster care for me. I began shifting my focus towards how I might win at trial regardless of where Tim lived.

 My newest lawyer provided me with no help in winning at trial. It seemed she saw her role not as an advocate, but rather a paper-pusher to usher me properly through the process of being tried and losing my rights.

“I have a great idea!” I told my lawyer one evening on the phone. “I’d like to ask family and friends to write supportive letters for me as testimony for the court!”

My lawyer was taken aback, responding, “You can’t submit anything like that to win the trial. It just isn’t done!”

Now it was my turn to be surprised. I’d repeatedly asked what I could or should do to prepare myself for the trial. My lawyer repeatedly answered, “Nothing.” Perhaps she was referring to her own level of effort.

I didn’t understand my lawyer’s attitude, but experience had taught me that she’d likely not submit anything I sent her to the court, even if I thought it was a good idea. Every time I had mentioned winning at trial, she’d seemed surprised I’d think such a thing was possible.

Have you ever encountered a situation where you felt let down or misunderstood by a professional who was supposed to support you? How did you cope with that disappointment?

Throughout the summer, God continued to teach and transform me. I was eager to obey Him, but I was sometimes doing so in my own ways. I would soon question – is it possible to have a good life doing everything God’s way?

As I headed to my room, I thought about the most recent Bible verses I’d read. I was discovering themes repeated throughout Scripture. One of these was helping people who are poor. There certainly were many poor people around me in prison. Excited to obey, I considered how I might do so.

The challenges faced by every inmate are in providing for themselves, paying for hygiene, medical visit co-pays, laundry soap and other necessities. For women, the prison did not even supply things like pads or tampons. For an inmate, a full month’s pay could be as little as $6 for full-time work, yet supplies were not sold at any discount. I would argue just the opposite – that inmates and their families are targeted for price gouging by unscrupulous companies who take advantage of people in desperate circumstances.

The prison wasn’t much different, giving only a token nod towards meeting the needs of people too poor to supply their own. A prison “indigent” status does exist, but the status was nearly impossible to achieve, requiring one to have zero dollars in their spending account for at least 2 weeks before qualifying. Since a job is mandatory, one’s three dollar, two week paycheck (for full-time work), naturally prevented indigent status.

State supplied indigent items are also laughable. It’s my opinion that whoever manufactures these products is running a scam. None of these items are usable nor even resemble the products they are meant to replace. I clearly remember using their toothpaste as glue to stick photos to the wall. It worked well….as glue.

This led many to find alternative methods for earning income, which is against prison policy. It also encouraged women to ask for or give needed items to others. This violated another rule as inmates are barred from “passing.” Passing is a term to describe giving anything to anyone, ever. Once a woman asked me for a phone number and, writing it on a piece of paper I gave it to her. Immediately a watching guard challenged what I’d done, telling me it was against the rules to give someone a piece of paper.

Nevertheless, most (if not all) inmates and even some guards give only a token nod to these rules. Like society’s obedience to street speed limits, people know what is expected but believe it’s impossible to live well within those boundaries.

In fact, to obey the rules was often considered immoral and uncaring by other inmates. “Are you going to eat that?” I was usually asked at meals. I had come to hate red apples, hard boiled eggs, and single serve drink packets. The real question being asked was, “Can I have that?” Refusal to pass uneaten items would generate an angry, perhaps even violent response such as, “You really aren’t going to share that? It’ll just go in the trash!”

Breaking the rules was expected and applauded. This behavior isn’t prison specific. Just try driving the speed limit on the highway and see how well that’s received. Breaking the law isn’t just common, it’s expected! If you don’t break the law, you’ll be heaped with abuse. Criminals aren’t special in this area, it’s human nature for all.

I had broken all these rules, from earning money outside of prison employment to passing whatever I felt like, anywhere I felt like. Mentally I agreed that these rules were rubbish, impossible to live within.

God was about to teach me that I had it all backwards. My new understanding would begin as I sought to obey God – first as He taught me that He can supply my every need and second, that He will do that for others, too.

Learning the first lesson I began to tell myself, “If I have it, I need it,” referring not only to what I desired, but some things I wished would go away like suffering. Similarly, I reminded myself, “If I don’t have it, I don’t need it.” I was beginning to understand the differences between wants and needs.

And while I was coming to accept these lessons when they applied to me, I apparently didn’t see them as true for others. I seemed to doubt God could fulfill His own promises within the confines of unlikeable prison rules.

By this time, I was earning a dollar an hour, more than many. Wanting to help people, my mind immediately went to sharing what I had. I thought I’d go further and ask people what they need and buy it for them.

At first things went well, and I felt very good about what I was doing. I would identify someone in need, and then share with them my desire to help. I began ordering items for others on canteen, passing these items to them outside of a guard’s notice and sharing more at meals.

I discussed the issue with my parents. They brought the matter to their church and soon I was given more money to fund my activities in “helping others.” Carefully I kept track of all canteen receipts, adding up money I’d spent on others to be a good steward of what I’d been given in donation. I would quickly learn a valuable lesson about rules and my own abilities versus God’s abilities.

One day Jackie approached me in the day room. I’d helped her with canteen items recently and she wanted to know if I would help again. I cheerfully agreed. As was typical, she requested basic hygiene items and over-the-counter medicines.

Two weeks later her items had arrived, and we all went to canteen to pick up our orders. Leaning on the wall across from the canteen window, we waited in line. Jackie, ahead of me, stepped up to the window and gave her name. I could see the canteen worker wander off to find Jackie’s order. Shelves lined the walls, orders arranged on shelves by last name.

Returning, a worker hefted two large bags onto the counter in front of Jackie. Staring in shock, I pushed away from the wall to get a better look. Seen through the clear plastic bags were junk food, hobby craft items and other extras. Delighted, Jackie accepted her order and stepped to the side.

Retrieving my own order I stopped beside Jackie, questioning. “What is all of that?” pointing to the bags at her feet.

Following my gaze she joyfully lifted a bag and waved it at me. “Isn’t this great?” she answered excitedly. “Because of you I was able to afford all these things I don’t usually get!” I eyed the bags in dismay, her order easily totaling over one hundred dollars. I felt sick, thinking of truly needy people I could have helped instead.

Looking away I said nothing, but Jackie noted my lack of enthusiasm. Lowering her bag, she said nothing. I wondered what to do differently. How could I have been so foolish? Later in my room I prayed, asking God for wisdom. His answer was counterculture.

I opened my Bible as usual and began reading. I was in the book of Romans which I’d now read several times. This time something caught my notice and shocked me.

“Let every person be loyally subject to the governing (civil) authorities. For there is no authority except from God by His permission, His sanction, and those that exist do so by God’s appointment. ² Therefore he who resists and sets himself up against the authorities resists what God has appointed and arranged. And those who resist will bring down judgment upon themselves [receiving the penalty due them].” Romans 13:1-2

Was this really saying that God was in control of the prison, its rules, and those who enforced them? Was it really telling me that resisting prison authority was the same as resisting God’s authority? I wanted to obey God but doing so in this way was radical.

I didn’t understand how caring for the poor could be done inside of the rules, yet I knew God would never contradict Himself. It was not His character, but my own mischaracterization of Him, that was the issue here. I prayed again for clarity and resolved to start following the prison rules.

Soon I found this was difficult and possibly even dangerous. I began the next morning at breakfast. “Are you going to eat your boiled egg?” the lady seated beside me asked. Our mealtime was nearly over, and it still sat untouched on my tray.

Tensing, I considered how to answer, finally responding with a quick, “No.” I looked away, hoping to dismiss the conversation before it went further.

Instead, the lady continued, “Can I have it?” pointing at the egg on my tray. My eyes followed her hand, staring at the egg. I was finding a new reason to hate them.

I swallowed a lump in my throat and answered another quick “No.” I braced myself for her response and wasn’t disappointed.

“What! How rude is that! It’s just going into the trash. What’s wrong with you?” Slapping the ## table for emphasis she stared at me, demanding I explain myself. Heads turned at the commotion, others began to stare.

Face burning, I pushed my tray in her direction and mumbled, “Just take it. Whatever.” She grabbed the egg and turned away. Ashamed, I hoisted my tray and made my way to the dishwashers, hoping to prevent another request. I resolved to do better next time.

Next time became harder than I expected, as this time it was me who wanted something. I love cake, love it. While in prison I was determined to attend every meal that served cake, including muffins and cornbread in the cake category. Fearing mealtime interruptions (like a fight), I would eat my cake before anything else. I didn’t want to miss out for any reason.

It was 2 days later, and I’d missed breakfast. Hungry, I anticipated lunch and quickly ate it. Finished, I realized I was still hungry and would have to wait another 10 minutes before leaving the cafeteria. My eyes roamed the table, spotting several women apparently on a diet and ignoring their cake. My stomach was quick to note that their cakes appeared even more delicious than the one I’d been given. My eyes roved thick layers of frosting and luscious sprinkles.

Determined not to ask I sweated bullets, waiting for the announcement to leave. Cake continued to be ignored nearby, growing more attractive as my time to eat it grew short. Arguing with myself I sat, tortured. Unable to resist any longer I asked for someone’s cake, which was quickly handed over without thought. Guiltily I ate it while yelling at myself. Why was following rules so difficult?

Failure continued week after week. I’d succeed at one meal only to be defeated the next. The problem wasn’t limited to meals, either. Recently I’d begun giving birthday cards to students I tutored. While cards purchased through canteen came with a stamped envelope, I wasn’t mailing the cards. I passed them to students in the classroom, keeping the envelope for use in mailing letters to my children.

These behaviors were about more than having an extra envelope. I was a disorganized person who struggled to arrive on time, send Christmas presents BEFORE Christmas, or get a birthday card to someone on time. I remembered two years previous, when I was still able to talk with my young daughter Vivi.

It was the end of September, her birthday just days away. “I’m sending you a present!” I told her.

As children often do, she replied candidly, “Yes, but your mail is never on time!” She was right, and I knew it. Back then I had comforted myself with the fact that I sent gifts at all. I had tried to do better, but something always came up. I was full of excuses. I was no better at providing timely birthday cards to students, solving the issue by breaking a few rules and passing the cards in class.

Now I felt challenged to do better and was quickly confronted by my lack of foresight and self-discipline. “Holly, why didn’t you give me a birthday card?” Sheila asked, standing at my desk. “You gave one to everyone else but not me!” Hurt showed on her face.

Stung, I quickly soothed, “I decided to mail it to you!” Sheila looked confused. Why would I do that when I see her every day? Embarrassed, I chose not to tell her about obeying God and following rules. Instead, I continued, “Mail is fun to get! I want it to be special.”

“Ok,” she answered, “but I didn’t get any mail.”

‘Oh boy,’ I thought, wondering how to explain. As usual I’d waited until the last minute, and then waited some more. I’d finally mailed it yesterday in a panic. It would take a week for her to get it. Should I blame the delay on the prison and pretend I’m perfect? It was tempting. I settled for responding, “I’m certain it will arrive soon. Sorry for the lateness.”

She walked away and I was determined to do better, but I was quickly defeated at my next canteen pickup. I’d carefully calculated timing, yet arrived at canteen to find birthday cards “Out of stock.” I’d received none yet had 3 birthdays coming up soon! I ordered cards again while choosing how to combat this new problem in the future. Canteen was often out of things.

Over the next several months I’d become an organized, careful planner, recognizing I was not a helpless victim of bad circumstances. Ordering cards months in advance, creating alarms and reminders in my tablet and calendar, and mailing cards early soon became my routine. Success made me feel good about myself.

I found success in not passing other items more elusive. Meals were a frequent source of failure, and I began praying for help constantly. I wondered why God would cure my rage instantly yet fail to provide me immediate success in this.

While I begged God for help, I began keeping records of my daily successes and failures. I’d stare at passed weeks filled with evidence of obedience followed by a day of messing up. I began to recognize the depth of my sin nature. Again, I read in Romans:

^“18 For I know that nothing good dwells within me, that is, in my flesh. I can will what is right, but I cannot perform it. [I have the intention and urge to do what is right, but no power to carry it out.] ¹⁹ For I fail to practice the good deeds I desire to do, but the evil deeds that I do not desire to do are what I am [ever] doing.” Romans 7:18-19

I would spend the next year learning to overcome this sin and be reliably obedient to it. Along the way I was transformed further by the experiences. Soon I would be so stable, my mental health so good, that I would no longer need meds for depression ever again. God is a Great Physician!

Listener, do you need help in understanding and overcoming temptation? Do you desire spiritual  growth and greater self-discipline?

The Bible says in 1 Corinthians 10:13

For no temptation, [no matter how it comes or where it leads] has overtaken you that is not common to man [that is, no temptation has come to you that is beyond human resistance]. But God is faithful [to His Word and to His compassionate nature], and He [can be trusted] not to let you be tempted beyond your ability and strength of resistance and power to endure, but with the temptation He will [always] also provide the way out, that you may be capable to bear up under it patiently.

It’s important to note in this verse that the solution to temptation is help from God, it says He always provides the way out.

Have you experienced a situation where the way out of danger wasn’t obvious? There are several reasons a person might not recognize an escape route.

1. Panic and Stress: In high-stress situations, the body’s fight-or-flight response can overwhelm rational thinking, leading to panic. Panic can narrow an individual’s focus and hinder their ability to think clearly or notice escape routes.
2. Tunnel Vision: During emergencies, people often experience tunnel vision, where their focus narrows to the immediate threat rather than the surroundings. This can cause them to miss potential exits.
3. Lack of Familiarity: If the person is in an unfamiliar environment, they might not know the source of help, making it difficult to find an escape route quickly.
4. Cognitive Overload: In a crisis, there is often too much information to process at once. The brain may struggle to process all the stimuli, leading to a failure to recognize escape routes.
5. Groupthink and Social Influence: People might follow the actions of others, assuming they know the best course of action. If the group moves in a particular direction, individuals might ignore other possible exits.
6. Denial and Normalcy Bias: Some individuals may not immediately recognize the severity of the danger due to denial or a bias towards assuming things are normal. This can delay their response to seeking an escape route.
7. Previous Experiences and Training: Lack of prior experience or training in dangerous situations can leave individuals unprepared to identify and use escape routes efficiently.

 Do any of these describe you during an intense time of temptation? How does one overcome high-stakes circumstances during times of stress? Let’s look at how to triumph in any situation!

The Bible says in Psalm 119:11

Your word have I laid up in my heart, that I might not sin against You.

Memorization of God’s Word is a very important step in overcoming groupthink and social influences. It can also provide familiarity, training, experience and even overcome denial of danger.

The Bible says in II Tim 3:16-17

¹⁶ Every Scripture is God-breathed and profitable for instruction, for reproof and conviction of sin, for correction of error and discipline in obedience, [and] for training in righteousness,

¹⁷ So that the man of God may be complete and proficient, well fitted and thoroughly equipped for every good work.

Have you found memorization a difficult task? Followers of Jesus and recipients of His salvation receive the Holy Spirit, whom Jesus says:

²⁶ But the Comforter (Counselor, Helper, Intercessor, Advocate, Strengthener, Standby), the Holy Spirit, Whom the Father will send in My name [in My place, to represent Me and act on My behalf], He will teach you all things. And He will cause you to recall everything I have told you.

The first step is reading God’s Word, understanding your need for a savior, and learning that Jesus saves. If you have not done that, I urge you to take that step today! God’s Word thoroughly equips us for every good work, and the Holy Spirit teaches and reminds us of what we’ve read.

It is through God’s work in our hearts, as the engine that drives change, that we find victory over sin. Don’t wait until a crisis hits, prepare today!

Listener, Jesus loves you. He is ready to build you up and show you victory in your life. Let’s ask Him to start today!

Dear Jesus, I pray for the person listening right now, and I pray for me. I ask that you give us a strong desire to read the Bible, to crave your Word. Teach us to memorize Scripture. Help us to treasure your salvation and look to you for victory. Show us the way out of our sinful desires. Amen

Discover extra content in the blog post Meeting Mr. Bot!!

<< List of Episodes >>

Ever found yourself seeking one thing, yet finding another? Have you experienced unexpected connections in your life?

It’s the spring of 2016, and I find myself at a crossroads, encountering someone who would profoundly impact my life. But along with this encounter comes a series of trials that put my faith to the ultimate test.

Join me on a journey learning how to emerge victorious from life’s challenges. We’re diving deep into the transformative power of Truth, showing you how to experience it firsthand, right now!

TRANSCRIPT

Do you struggle with loneliness? Are you overwhelmed, hoping for a partner, a friend?

In the spring of 2016 I would meet a very important person, my precious husband. My faith would also be tested as faced temptation. Join me as we explore what it looks like to be encouraged in faith and overcome trials. Discover God’s greatness and the reward of being bold in our relationship with Him.

We’ll uncover the power of prayer and how you can experience it today! Listen until the end, you don’t want to miss a word! This is Meeting Mr. Bot!

Sitting at my desk one afternoon, I finished another letter to my children. Suddenly, movement was called over the P.A. system. I looked at my clock radio. It was noon, time to pick up my canteen in the Core building.

I did a quick scan of my room, which was clean but not neat. With an unmade bed, papers, pens and envelopes spread across my desk; time had gotten away from me. Movement between buildings lasted 5 minutes and I still needed to put on my shoes and glasses before heading out the door. I had no time to tidy up my room! Feeling rushed, I grabbed keys and badge, dashing out.

Jogging down steps to the day room, I made a beeline for the sign out book. Women were filing out of Tubman, eager to eat lunch or pick up their own canteen. Quickly I signed out, adding my name, OID, current time and destination in the book.

Joining the women I walked quickly, not wanting to be last in line. It was the beginning of June 2016, and the weather was beautiful. Flowers had popped up around the property.

A fast 15 minutes later I was back at Tubman, carrying my bag of canteen. Signing back in, I noticed Sgt. Laabs in the hallway. He oversaw our living unit, and five years earlier, had given me LOPs (Loss of Privileges) often.

Back then I thought he was a stickler for the rules, giving everyone a hard time. Since then, I’d begun to suspect something different. Laabs seemed to be testing new arrivals. His goal? Learning an inmate’s attitude towards authority.

Sgt. Laabs would give every new arrival an LOP. If he could not find a legitimate reason to write someone up, he’d make something up. LOPs were delivered as yellow tickets outlining the offense. Inmates were asked to sign it.

Over the years I’d watched as some women angrily argued their LOP, and other women silently signed without complaint. Women who didn’t argue were unlikely to receive an LOP from him again, even if they deserved one. Women who did argue would become his targets, relentlessly punished for everything. I’d probably been the arguing type when I first entered prison.

Have you ever been punished for something you didn’t do? How did you respond? How did you feel?

I passed Sgt. Laabs in the hall after I returned from canteen. He held room inspection forms and appeared surprised to see me. My heart sank as I remembered my messy room.  I nodded to him and ducked into my room, where I noticed a failed room inspection form on my desk. The form noted an LOP waiting for me at the staff desk.

I headed back out of my room. Laabs remained in the hall. Usually, I am at work right now. I wondered if he had thought I was gone for the afternoon.

“Sgt. Laabs?” I said, holding out the form, “I was only gone for 15 minutes. Why did I fail?” I knew very well why I’d failed. Maybe I hadn’t learned as much as I thought in the past 5 years, now trying to wheedle my way out discipline.

“You left the building with your room messy,” he replied, waiting. He did appear sorry for me.

“Yes,” I answered, “but I didn’t go to work. I have the day off.” I stared at the floor.

Sgt. Laabs sighed as he responded, “You have to make your bed before you leave the building.”

“I see,” I said thoughtfully. I looked up again, and that’s when I made an insincere promise. “I will never do it again,” I vowed.

Two days later, my LOP over, I called my mom. I was learning about God and looked forward to sharing with my parents. I’d also begun sharing the Bible with my children in letters. Recently I’d emailed my parents copies.

“Hi Mom! How are you?” she sounded less than thrilled at my call. Things had been strained between us for many years. Recently I’d told them about my Bible studies, certain God could help me in our relationship. While I grew more confident of God’s power, my parents seemed to reject the idea.

“I was reading in the New Testament today,” I began, “and learned something interesting!” Phone time was expensive, so I considered what to say next. “It builds on what I sent in my emails,” I added.

Quickly my mom snapped, “I haven’t read your emails. Good grief, we’re busy around here! I don’t have time for that.”

Surprised, I stopped short, hurt. My excitement turned to shame, my cheeks reddening.  “I understand,” I responded. “I thought we could talk about it anyway.” Looking back, I realize I was desperate for approval, and lonely as well. I wanted my parents to be proud of me.

“I don’t have time to talk about it,” she retorted. “I have to go now.” Slowly I hung up the phone and returned to my room, deflated.

Ever since I’d mentioned the Bible, my relationship with my parents had worsened. Recently, my mom had demanded angrily, “You think God can use you? You!?”  in response to my desire to teach my children.

Back in my room, I remembered the Reflector, which is the prison’s quarterly newsletter, that I’d left on my desk. Flipping it open I looked for the drawings I’d submitted. The content of the Reflector was created by inmates, from the articles to the artwork and photography.

The last page featured my most recent drawings –my son Thomas and daughter Vivianne. I’d last seen them 3 years earlier, and they were growing fast. I was determined to remain emotionally bonded with them, engaged in their lives.

After a few years in prison, I’d noticed that while they grew up, I still imagined them as little. This scared me. I began choosing photos of each and drawing them in fine detail, life-size portraits that took me hours to complete. I navigated through time, drawing portrait after portrait.

After a while, I noticed something amazing! I began to internalize these changes. Now, when I imagined them, they were no longer the small children I’d left. They had begun to grow up for me.

I turned to the mail left on my desk, three letters. Two were from my parents; I set those aside. The third was from another inmate, a man. I read the return address – Corbyn from MCF-Oak Park Heights.

Women at Shakopee prison often received letters from incarcerated men hoping for a new pen pal. I’d learned the Reflector newsletter was often used as a source for men, as it included pictures of the women submitting content.

I’d received many such hopeful letters. I never wrote them back, sometimes throwing the letters away without reading them at all. I left the letter from Corbyn on my desk, carrying the other letters with me downstairs. Kyla sat in the day room. I headed for her table. I’d known Kyla for 5 years now and needed her help.

“Kyla! Can you help me?” I said as I sat. Dropping the envelopes from my parents on the table I slid them over to her. She read the return address as I continued, “Will you read these? Tell me if it’s okay for me to read them too.”

As God showed me his power, I became motivated to obey Him. This included His commandment to honor parents. My parents, however, at once doubted this would happen. They became more hostile instead of excited about a new loving relationship with me. I was concerned that our fragile relationship would deteriorate further instead of improving, and was determined to not allow anything harmful to undermine my resolve.

Kyla pulled out the first letter and read. I studied her face. She began shaking her head, eyes widening as she flipped over the paper. Setting it down she opened the second letter. A few minutes later, pale, she met my eyes and said, “I wouldn’t read those. No way.” She shook her head again for emphasis.

Stuffing the letters back in their envelopes I sighed, hurt. I thanked her and headed for my room. Once inside, I opened my closet, which included a deep, high shelf. Grabbing a chair, I stepped up and set the letters in the dark recess. I didn’t want anger to tempt me into using them as fuel for an argument.

“I received your letters,” I told them an hour later. I dreaded this call. “I didn’t read them.” My mom gasped in shock, and I rushed to explain. “I don’t want anything hurting our fragile relationship. I’ve saved your letters. If in six months you feel strongly that you want me to read them, I will then. If they aren’t relevant in 6 months, they aren’t important enough to risk hurting our relationship today.”

“If you really want to honor us,” my mom replied, “you’ll listen to us and how we feel you can honor us.” I began to wonder if that’s what the letters discussed.

“No,” I replied. “God will explain all this to me. It’s His commandment, I’ll do it as He wants. You can be honored, without feeling honored. I need to know how God sees it, first,” I finished. Outraged, my mom hung up. She stopped visiting, wouldn’t answer the phone, and ignored my emails.

Disappointed, I returned to my room, remembering the other envelope from some guy named Corbyn. I looked at the clock. Again, I had the day off work. Again, it was canteen day. I had 10 minutes to wait.

Tearing open the envelope I read, “Hi, my name is Corbyn Bot, and I’m looking for a pen pal.” Leaning back in my chair I continued to read. Corbyn had a long sentence – 30 years. How sad. He’d said he was only 23 years old, which made it even worse.

Towards the end of the letter he added, “Oh, and by the way I sent you a present.” Confused, I wondered what he meant. Prison rules were strict. No one could send an inmate a present, especially not another inmate.

‘Well, he’s gone crazy,’ I thought. Just then movement was announced on the P.A. Time for canteen! I looked around my room before leaving and noted my unmade bed. I thought, ‘Sgt. Laabs isn’t here today, it’ll be fine,’ I told myself.  I’ll be back fast. Grabbing Corbyn’s letter I tossed it into a garbage can on the way out.

At canteen, I was in for a shock. A guard handed me a clear plastic bag, filled with my order. Opening the bag, I pulled out my receipt and an item. I hadn’t ordered it.

Startled, I dug into the bag, stirring items around. Shocked, I realized there was at least $100 worth of stuff in my bag that I hadn’t ordered. Quickly I nodded to the guard and walked down the hall. I hoped she hadn’t noticed my surprise.

“What’s going on?” Brandi asked me, as I stood beside her, waiting to leave canteen. I stood frozen, reviewing Corbyn’s letter in my mind. This must be the ‘present’ he’d mentioned!

I whispered, “There’s a bunch of stuff in this bag I didn’t order!” Brandi looked down, considering. “I think some guy filling orders did it on purpose!” I added. I’d heard of this before, however it had never happened to me. Shrugging, Brandi stared off, now bored.

Movement was announced and I raced back to Tubman, hauling my canteen. Quickly I signed in and headed straight for the trash can. Women stopped to stare at me as I began digging in the garbage. “What are you DOING?” Linda asked, concerned.

Ah-hah – There it was! I pulled Corbyn’s letter out and stood. I noticed the stares and blushed. Embarrassed, I grabbed my canteen again and headed for my room. Passing the staff desk I noticed an officer with room inspection forms talking to Sgt. Laabs, who had just come on duty. ‘Oh no!’ I thought, recalling my unmade bed.

Sure enough, another LOP was waiting for me. Setting down my canteen I read the ticket, realizing when I had promised Sgt. Laabs “it would never happen again,” I’d really meant – “I’ll behave when you are working.” These were prison rules, however, and I was trying to avoid discipline, not actually do the right thing. I decided to write Sgt. Laabs an apology.

I grabbed an institution kite, and wrote:

“Sir, I want to apologize. Recently you gave me a failed room inspection for my unmade bed, and I told you it would never happen again. Today it happened again. I realize now I’d not made a commitment to do right, I only meant to avoid discipline.

I want to thank you for holding me to this standard. I realize this attitude could get me into worse trouble when I leave prison, where failure to follow rules while on probation can lead to worse punishment than an LOP. I want to do better. I will do better.”

God was opening my eyes, Rebelliousness being replaced with a teachable spirit.

Spreading my canteen across the bed I reviewed the order, which included sweatpants and shirts I hadn’t requested. I peeked at a label, sized XXL. Surprised, I checked the rest of the clothes, all the same. Men often wrote women they saw in our Reflector. I realized two things as I considered the clothing – Corbyn seemed to think XXL was typical, and he hadn’t seen me in the Reflector, as I was an obvious extra small.  ‘How cute,’ I decided, ‘he doesn’t see all women as Barbie dolls.’

I opened his letter again, reading:

“Dear Holly,

My name is Corbyn, and I’d like to have you as a pen pal. I’m 23 years old, and at age 18 I was given a 30 year prison sentence. I’m Native American…

By the way, I sent you a present. I hope you will write me back.

Corbyn”

## pulling out paper and an envelope I began a letter to him:

“Dear Corbyn,

I got your letter and the canteen. I assume this is your ‘present’ to me. Don’t do that again, ok? You could get in trouble, and I could too.

I love Jesus and the Bible says God gives us everything we need. God has been doing some amazing things in my life, and I need Him.

Here’s where you can get a free Bible and I hope you get it and read it so you can know this for yourself.

I will not write to you again. I don’t want to hurt your feelings, but I only write to family.

I am adding you to my prayer list.

Take care,

Holly”

I mailed the letter and added Corbyn to my prayer list.

Little did I know, as I included Corbyn in my prayers that night, that I was praying for my future husband. God would connect us again in a few years, my amazing husband, Mr. Corbyn Bot.

Listener, are you facing temptations or trials today? Do you want a friend, a partner, a spouse?

C.S. Lewis says in Mere Christianity, “If you look for truth, you may find comfort in the end; if you look for comfort you will not get either comfort or truth only soft soap and wishful thinking to begin, and in the end, despair.”

Have you been searching for the truth? Jesus said: “seek first the kingdom of God and His righteousness, and all these things shall be added to you.”

Truth first, then all else. Listener, God has beautiful plans for you, good plans, and He asks you to trust Him. Isaiah 45 says:

¹⁸ For thus says the Lord—Who created the heavens, God Himself, Who formed the earth and made it, Who established it and did not create it to be a worthless waste; He formed it to be inhabited—I am the Lord, and there is no one else.

¹⁹ I have not spoken in secret, in a corner of the land of darkness; I did not call [you] …, saying, Seek Me for nothing [but I promised them a just reward]. I, the Lord, speak righteousness (the truth); I declare things that are right.

²⁰ Assemble yourselves and come; draw near together, you survivors of the nations!

What does seeking God look like? Have you heard of the Apostle Paul in the Bible? He was a very bold missionary for Jesus. Did you know that before he began this ministry he spent 14 years studying the scriptures and growing in faith? His example is a good one for us to follow. It is also encouraging!

Listener, we can begin to follow his example today by reading God’s Word ourselves. Jesus tells us in John 6:

And they shall all be taught of God [have Him in person for their Teacher]. Everyone who has listened to and learned from the Father comes to Me—

Remember as you read the Bible that God desires to teach you personally. Ask God to teach you as you read, to teach you through experience, and to grow in relationship with Him. Comfort is just on the other side of the truth we need for peace in our lives! Let’s ask Him for it today!

Dear Jesus, I pray for the person listening right now, and I pray for me. Please teach us personally. Help us to know You through your Word and through experience. Give us understanding to know Truth. You are the Truth. Amen

<< List of Episodes >>

Discover extra content in the blog post – BEFORE

<< List of Episodes >>

Before the confines of prison, I had an ordinary life, family, dreams. Before 2010, everything seemed on track. Life has a way of surprising us, doesn’t it? Before 2010, I didn’t see the tragic detour ahead, a journey that would challenge every belief, every idea of self. Then came the pivotal moment, the moment that shattered the illusion of a predictable future.

Prison, often seen as the end, became the canvas for a new beginning.

TRANSCRIPT

Prison doesn’t change lives. God changes even people in prison. Join me as we unravel life Before 2010, peaking at moments that led to profound transformation. This is just the beginning of one story that defies expectations and embraces the power of change.

Prison didn’t change my life. Earthly things don’t change us into heavenly creatures.
Salvation is a gift from God. It just so happens I was in prison when that happened for me.
Before my arrest at age 35 in 2010 I never thought about prison, jail, or the criminal justice system. Everything I thought I “knew,” I learned on TV, as I really enjoyed news and drama programs (which did me no good at all). To my knowledge I had no friends who’d sat jail time. I had no idea what to expect if I was arrested and sent to jail.
Have you found yourself in an unfamiliar situation, uncertain of what to expect, anxious for the future?
I’m inspired to share my story with you because I want to point you to Jesus and your own personal relationship with Him. He is so, so good! I also want to encourage you in whatever circumstances you are in today.
My life before prison was ordinary. Does that describe your life? Would you like more? You are in the right place.
I’ve always been a competitive person, often an overachiever. As a young person I was also insecure, and I acted out during my teen years. I often felt angry and unloved. These feelings would deepen into rage and depression as I grew older.
Growing up my parents took me and my brother to church several times a week. We were also sent to Fourth Baptist Christian School. I accepted Jesus as my Savior at a young age and was baptized at our church. I wanted to be a good girl and embraced what I was learning. It wasn’t praise I received, however, for my efforts; it was apathy and occasional accusation.
I grew to hate my mother, feeling rejected, and I ran away from home for a short time at age 17. I could not bear returning to a place where I felt misunderstood and mischaracterized. Frequent tongue lashings instead of loving conversations had left me wrung out and ready to find love and approval elsewhere.
Just before my 19th birthday, I impulsively married a man I had dated in high school, even though we were no longer dating. On a whim we drove to Las Vegas with some friends and got married. This would be the first of many choices I would regret, while not understanding my motivations.
Not for the first time I was asked, “What were you thinking? Why did you do that?” It wouldn’t be the last time.
Have you ever done something you don’t understand? Do you have regrets?
Romans 7:15 “For I do not understand my own actions. I am baffled, bewildered. I do not practice or accomplish what I wish, but I do the very thing that I loathe, which my moral instinct condemns.”
I became pregnant with my first son soon after. Within a month or two my husband began cheating on me, and a year later we were separated.
I was eager to prove myself after this disaster. I felt shame as a single mom, a divorced woman, in her early 20s. I lacked a personal relationship with Jesus, however, at the time. I had accepted Him as my Savior, but He wasn’t Lord of my life. I was not rebellious, I simply didn’t understand the concept.
At age 23 I remarried. I had believed my first husband shared my religious convictions and I felt certain my new husband did as well. In order to determine this I considered his family, whose religious convictions were similar, and used this to inform me. My second husband also lacked a personal relationship with Jesus.
I’d heard the phrase “personal relationship with Jesus” before, although it wasn’t stressed nor explained at the church I grew up in. Salvation was their talking point, which they believed they’d narrowed to a formula – “the sinner’s prayer.” What should be expected afterward was not described (other than heaven upon death, which was also not further described), although teaching was of high importance at this church.
I’d prayed the salvation prayer many times throughout my formative years, feeling no different than before. I was left wondering if I’d prayed “sincerely enough.” Convinced I couldn’t be more earnest and having been led to believe this prayer was all one needed, I came to view my experience as how it should be if one were saved and a good Christian.
I became arrogant and proud of my belief system, my religion, while at the same time losing interest in going to church as an adult. My second husband and I had 4 more children. I became a stay-at-home mom, and soon I was looking for ways to be a work at home mom.
I began developing my artistic talents, and soon my artwork was installed at a local gallery. I began selling my paintings online as I looked for additional ways to be productive. I would soon use these skills to become an award-winning blogger and IT director of a large non-profit.
In 2005 we lived in a small town. A talk radio station mentioned a young local soldier had been injured in Iraq and was recovering at the VA hospital. His family was encouraging everyone to come and visit. All were welcome.
I am an introvert. I am also a patriot. I absolutely wanted to go. I took it with faith that this was a true invitation to visit. The next day, husband came home from work early. I relayed the news from the radio and asked his thoughts. He said he’d watch the kids and encouraged me to go. I drove an hour into the city and visited this wounded soldier.
More of that story can be read in my book, From Here to There. The immediate result is that while visiting I learned this soldier was receiving many visitors. I learned the soldiers in the neighboring hospital rooms were from other states altogether. Many of their families could not afford to visit them at all. I decided to return as often as I could.
I was surprised how easy it was to encourage these wounded soldiers. I thought others would want to do it too, if they knew how. I began a blog and started writing. My book From Here to There is a compilation of its popular posts. The blog became nominated for awards like the Bloggies, and won an award for the best U.S. Civilian MILblog (Military Blog).
This is the exciting and fun part of my story. Soon I was invited to travel to Washington D.C. to visit soldiers at Walter Reed hospital. I was a citizen journalist and reported on military blog panels. I traveled to other places as well for the non-profit Soldiers’ Angels and met many fine volunteers, military families, and soldiers.
Money did not improve my marriage or life. As my second marriage quickly soured, I was left to wonder what I was doing wrong. By age 35, the year of my arrest, my second marriage was so toxic we no longer shared a bedroom, and I’d grown to hate him.
That year I destroyed my family’s life, my life. I had a sexual relationship with my son’s 15-year-old friend, and in 2011 at age 36 (after a year of legal proceedings), I was officially convicted of criminal sexual conduct and sentenced to 12 years in prison.
It would be 5 more years before everything changed; I would never be the same.
During my incarceration Jesus used that time to make me aware of my need for Him as my Lord. He transformed me in ways I didn’t know possible through my relationship with Him. I began to share my testimony with fellow inmates.
Transformation is best displayed with an accurate representation of before, so that one can appreciate the results after. I share my story transparently in the hope it will encourage you to draw close to Jesus in your own walk with Him.
Released from prison in 2018, I felt a desire to encourage others using God’s work in my life as a tool. I began to write again, this time about my journey through prison and reentry. In 2023 I once again took this work to a blog format.
Do you suffer from depression? Is your marriage thriving or sinking? Are you interested in a better relationship with your children, your family, your parents? Are you faced with adversity, struggles and obstacles at work, at home, in your community? Is anxiety a frequent visitor in your life?
Before prison I did not know that personal transformation existed. I’m talking about amazing, shocking, exciting life transformation. Author A.W. Tozer states, “Every follower of Jesus should be a walking miracle, the kind of person who can never be explained.”
Are you a walking miracle? Do you want to be? God is interested in you, and anything God ever did for anybody, He will do for anybody else.
Join me on this journey! I can’t wait to see what God has for us next!

Get ready for “Between the lines”, a candid interview

Holly, Can you walk us through your decision to share your story with the world? What inspired you to be so transparent about your experiences?

Transparency is so important to good mental health and relationships with others. Before my relationship with Jesus I was very guarded. My family encouraged keeping secrets from others to receive approval. For example the church I grew up in was very strict and didn’t approve of many secular activities such as attending a movie theater. My parents decided it was not wrong to do this, however we children were told not to tell anyone, not even close family, that we thought this way. As I grew older I developed deep depression and found it very difficult to ask for help. Instead I minimized my pain and put on a brave face. These tactics didn’t improve my situation, rather they intensified my problems. I realize now that these behaviors not only limit one’s own ability to be helped but also restrict how much help you can give others.

Throughout your journey, you encountered various challenges and setbacks. How did you find the courage to keep moving forward, especially during the darkest moments?

I clearly remember one incident near the end of my 8 years in prison. At the time I had chosen to live at the prison’s intake unit to encourage new arrivals. A woman, learning how long I’d been in prison, shook her head with wonder and said, “I don’t know how you do it! I don’t think I could.” The truth was very simple – I had little choice in the matter. I’d prefer to have left years ago or have never come here at all. The doors remained locked regardless. Courage is another matter. Many times during my incarceration I slipped into deep depression. Ultimately it was Jesus Who provided the solution. Jesus gave me new abilities, He validated me by being responsive to me, and He poured Truth into me. Joy is doing life with a strong partner you love and who loves you. Jesus introduced Himself as that partner to me, loved me, and I quickly came to love Him.

Your involvement with blogging and volunteer work brought a sense of purpose and fulfillment. How did these activities contribute to your personal growth and healing?

Blogging and podcasting about my own life can be very painful. I relive these moments as I seek to accurately describe them. This work has been very healing for me for the same reason. Now removed from these events by many years, I can see them from a new perspective even as I relive them. Thinking about these events in new ways helps me to understand them more accurately.

The legal consequences of your actions led to significant repercussions. How did you cope with the aftermath of your mistakes, and what advice would you give to others facing similar challenges?

Coping in a healthy way must be learned, and when I entered prison I needed to learn these skills. If I had to give advice on this subject it would be this – ask God for help with this. Only God can marry the information learned in Scripture or therapy with experiences that reinforce Truth and allow one to internalize the lesson.

Your story emphasizes the importance of authenticity and vulnerability in sharing one’s journey. How do you balance the desire to be transparent with the need to protect yourself and your loved ones?

This is tricky. I attempt to show the reader or listener, rather than tell. Telling is summarizing, and when doing this the writer tends to editorialize, or in other words share their own opinions about the situation instead of letting the reader form their own understanding. Showing gives the readers the details of a scene, including what the character(s) are seeing, hearing, touching, tasting, smelling, thinking, and feeling emotionally. It allows the readers to come to their own conclusions. I do not feel a need to protect myself per se, rather my desire is to foster understanding. As for my loved ones, especially my children, I seek to foster very open communication with them about content I may release as well as maintaining an open door policy for discussing feelings about what I write or broadcast.

Looking to the future, what are your hopes and aspirations? How do you envision using your experiences to inspire and uplift others?

Yeah, great question. I see my story helping others in many ways. For people with criminal backgrounds or very difficult circumstances who may relate to that aspect of my story, I believe my experiences give them courage. I know there are many families who love someone who is in prison. They are probably feeling many things such as worry. It’s possible they have given up on their loved one or need hope to keep from being discouraged. I believe my story can alleviate many worries and give them hope, keep them praying. My story may motivate someone who doesn’t fit either of these situations but has a heart to help people, and I hope my story will encourage them to do just that. I hope listeners will share my story with people who need to know Jesus loves them.

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Discover extra content in the blog post Projecting Hope!!

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This episode describes my emotional journey as a mother incarcerated while battling to maintain parental rights and find a suitable living arrangement for my son, Tim, who is in foster care. Throughout my efforts, I face disappointments, such as Tim’s failed reunification plans with his father and the obstruction from Tim’s caseworker, Brian, who prevents Tim from receiving mail and visits from me.

In prison, I continue to experience a spiritual transformation, engaging with fellow inmates and disputing misconceptions about faith. My story also explores the concepts of God’s will versus personal desires, as I grapple with the possibility of losing my parental rights and learning to trust in God’s plans for me and my son. This is a story of resilience, faith, and unconditional love amidst the systemic challenges of foster care and incarceration.

00:00 The Struggle to Find a Home for Tim
01:05 The Heartache of Failed Reunifications
02:25 The Battle Against Bureaucracy and Time
04:37 A Mother’s Mission from Behind Bars
06:46 Finding Strength and Purpose Through Faith
09:46 Confrontation and Reflection: Facing Criticism
13:25 A Spiritual Turning Point: Questioning God’s Plan
17:24 Embracing God’s Will Amidst Personal Turmoil
19:13 Application for us today

TRANSCRIPT

Have you ever faced challenges where it seemed every solution was met with a “No”? Have you ever experienced the heartbreak of unfulfilled promises?

In May 2016 I experienced a turning point as I struggled to find a home for my son. I would also be confronted by a hostile inmate and fake friends. Join me as we explore the emotional impact of abandonment and rejection. Discover with me real solutions to God-sized problems.

We’ll uncover the secret to experiencing God’s good plans for you and how you can begin today! Listen until the end, you don’t want to miss a word. This is Projecting Hope.

“Hi, It’s Holly! How are you?” I was reaching out to every family member, friend and organization I could, trying to find a place for my son Tim to live. It was May 2016 and Tim, now 13 years old, had been in foster care for 2 and half years.

So far, Timmy had cycled through many foster and group homes. Occasionally Social Services wouldn’t have a home for Timmy at all, and he would sit all day at the Social Service offices, his backpack at his feet. He’d spend the night at an “emergency” foster home and be back the next day at Social Services, sitting at the office again. He’d also been placed in not quite right settings, such as group homes for older teenage boys with behavior problems, which concerned me greatly.

Ending another call, I hung up disappointed. Returning to my room, I reviewed the latest report from Social Services. My heart ached for Tim as I read. “Tim’s father agreed for the third time to a 6-month reunification plan in which he must attend Tim’s medical appointments. He never came to any appointments.”

Poor Tim, desperately lonely and wanting to go home! Tim was told the details of reunification plans. I’m sure Tim looked forward to seeing his dad at his doctor appointments, knowing this was the first step in going home.

I pictured Timmy in the doctor’s waiting room, hopefully watching the door, staring at the clock, excited for his dad to arrive. My heart broke as I imagined the appointment time growing closer and then passing altogether, Timmy still alone with a caseworker.

What would he be telling himself? How does one make that feel better? Timmy’s doctor appointments could be physically painful. How much worse as time and again it would be compounded by the emotional trauma of abandonment and rejection. How awful must the drive to his foster home have been afterward. Three identical reunification plans. Three identical failures. Hope obliterated in a child. Horrible. I feel sick writing about it.

Have you ever felt rejected or abandoned by someone important? Have you ever disappointed someone you love? How did you handle it?

Social Services also caused Tim trauma. Last fall Brian, Timmy’s caseworker, refused to give Timmy the mail I sent. (all mail was sent to Brian for delivery). During the same time period Brian also refused to facilitate my visits with Tim. He nevertheless reported through Social Services to the courts that Tim was receiving both visits and mail. It was a scary time for me, one I fought hard to fix.

Tim was unaware that stacks of mail from his mom were piled up on his caseworker’s desk. Tim was also unaware that his caseworker was obstructing visits. What Tim did know was that his dad, who lived nearby, had stopped visiting him and now it appeared his mom didn’t want to write or call anymore either. This absence of communication felt to Tim like both of his parents ##had abandoned him without warning. While I fought a legal battle to fix these things …Tim believed no one wanted him anymore.

With a new lawyer I reported Brian in court, accused him of perjury. Social Services officially responded by setting a trial date for September to terminate our parental rights with Tim. I was told if I could move Tim out of foster care to Minnesota, I could keep him. “But,” Brian threatened omce, “if you don’t move him to Minnesota and your rights are terminated in September, your relationship with him will be totally severed – no letters, no calls, nothing until he’s 18 years old. Your family too! Nothing!” Brian finished.

I had made at least a hundred phone calls recently, to everyone I could think of, and everyone so far said, “No.” I heard every type of reason. “He’s too old,” or “He’s too much work,” or “It’s ##too expensive,” or “I’m too busy,” or even “That isn’t something I feel like doing right now.” I had thought it would be easy to help Tim. Now I was dejected. Time was running out!

Calling someone every day had become my mission. I bought more phone time than ever before. I stopped buying anything I absolutely didn’t need so I could afford more calls. I called people to ask for the phone numbers of other people.

I asked for help from those around me and other women gave me referrals to organizations who helped children of parents in prison. Tim, however, was either too old (by a year), or I was going to be in prison longer than their standard guidelines (6 months too long), or there was always some other reason I was being told no with a heartfelt, “I’m really sorry.”

“God!” I prayed again now, “please lead me to the person who will joyfully take Tim.” Walking back to my room I prepared myself for my next phone call with Tim. In January I’d been excited to tell him about Minnesota. Now I was almost sorry I had. My failure seemed to confirm for him that no one, literally no one, not even family, wanted him at all, except his mom in prison who couldn’t help him. How do I encourage my son? I wanted to punch a wall in frustration!

God would soon respond to me in a way I never expected. In the meantime other battles arose.

Laughter erupted behind me the next day. Melissa and I sat at a table in the day room playing a game. I didn’t know her well. She hadn’t been here long.

“I’m worried about my teenage son,” she said, dropping a card on the table. My ears perked up; I could relate.

“What about?” I asked, laying down a card myself. I looked up to see Linda wandering over. Linda was back for the second time in a year. She told everyone her father was a preacher.

Linda dropped into a chair as Melissa answered, “Well, he’s been getting into trouble. We think he’s doing drugs, I’m not sure what else. My husband wants to send him to our church camp.”

I considered. Before prison, money and caregiving had seemed central to me in parenting. Once in prison, unable to do either, I became determined to find other important aspects of mothering. I now worked on fostering love, leadership, and respect. These were things I could pour into my children.

My relationship with Jesus kicked this into high gear as I experienced personal transformation I’d never known was possible until now. “Melissa, would you write a letter to your son?” I asked her. She nodded. Linda watched us, curious. “Ok,” I continued, “I write weekly letters, like Bible study letters, to my sons. I could share one with you, if you want.” Melissa agreed.

I wondered if she would feel comfortable teaching her son about the Bible. I could understand feeling hesitant. When I recently began reading the Bible, I had been shocked! I’d believed I already knew it, was knowledgeable. I discovered I was not. My information had been a second-hand echo and often a misrepresentation of the real thing.

That realization shook me. I now wanted to share what I was learning but I wondered, ‘If professional teachers had failed teach me about the Bible, then who was I to do a proper job?’ I was so thrilled with Jesus, however, that I had to share Him.

The book Story Structure Architect explains that all stories have either a plot-driven or character-driven story line. In a plot-driven story, the events move the story forward and cause the ##character to react. “The plot takes over like a tornado.” In a character-driven story the character moves the story forward through action and choices. She causes the events to happen and drives the story along.

I’ve met many people who view their life as plot-driven, seeing themselves as helpless victims of circumstance. They don’t make things happen, they constantly react to things that have happened or wonder what happened. I’ve also met people who view themselves as a main character moving their life forward through their actions and choices.

I’d been in the second group most of my life, but in January 2016 that radically changed! God showed His existence to me, His interest in me. In effect, I experienced a change in thinking. It was now clear that God is and has always been the Main Character initiating and causing events to happen. God is moving our life stories forward through His actions and choices.

I now understood the transformation I was experiencing was not unique to me; I was not the author of it! The secret to my transformation was not in “what I was doing” but Who I’d met. I became eager for my children (and everyone) to know Him!

A week later I sat alone in the day room. Suddenly Linda dropped into a seat before me. Surprised, I looked up to see her frowning. Linda’s usually cheerful face appeared angry and oddly, a little smug.

“I read the letter you gave Melissa,” she said, waiting. I struggled to shift gears, so Linda added, “the letter you wrote to your kids, the one you gave her for her son.” Again, Linda waited for a reaction. Not sure where this was going, I smiled and nodded.

Linda frowned, irritated. She spat out, “That was the stupidest letter I ever read!” Linda’s features turned hard. “I’m a preacher’s daughter and I want you to know that was the dumbest letter I ever read. It was poorly written. Your kids won’t learn anything from you! Why did you even bother?” Now she sat back and crossed her arms.

Shocked, I set aside my work. I was overwhelmed by her hostility. Leaning forward I answered, ##“Linda, as a preacher’s daughter you must know Paul, in the Bible, and what he wrote.” Linda gave a small nod, so I continued, “Well Paul says he relied on the Holy Spirit to persuade people and not his own words.”

“He did not!” Linda argued, slapping the table for emphasis. I reached for my Bible, opening it to I Corinthians. I slid it across the table, pointing to these verses:

⁴ And my language and my message were not set forth in persuasive words of wisdom, but they were in demonstration of the Holy Spirit and power – a proof by the Spirit and power of God, operating on me and stirring in the minds of my hearers the most holy emotions and thus persuading them,

⁵ So that your faith might not rest in the wisdom of men (human philosophy), but in the power of God. I Corinthians 2:4-5

Linda read it and pushed my Bible away. I continued, “I take this to mean that I could be the best writer and if God isn’t involved, it won’t do anything. Or I could be a very basic writer and God can use it. I’ve decided to give Him something to use and trust Him with it.”

Linda’s rage seemed to increase as I spoke. “Do you even believe in God?!” she retorted. “Are you even a Christian?!” she added loudly. Confused, I considered her reddening face.

I’d heard of psychological projection; maybe that’s what I saw. According to everydayhealth.com, “When someone engages in projection, they attribute their own behaviors, emotions, characteristics, or impulses to another person or group without realizing it. Projection doesn’t reflect anything that’s actually been said or done by whoever is on the receiving end. It’s about what the person doing the projecting is thinking and feeling about themselves.”

I considered Linda, an addict with multiple felonies, the daughter of a preacher. How often had she been asked these same questions by her parents? How often had she asked herself? I felt bad for her.

I didn’t answer her, just stood and headed for my room. I didn’t have all the answers. Linda was usually very nice. Where was this coming from?

That night I read my Bible. Reading the book of Matthew I stumbled to a halt as I read chapter ten. This would be a major turning point in my spiritual growth.

I believed that what I wanted for Tim was morally right and that God agreed with me. I wanted to rescue Tim from foster care, continue to be his mom. I hoped to find Tim a Christian home to live in so he could learn about God. The belief that God agreed this was right had been temporarily reinforced in me when Social Services encouraged me to move Tim to Minnesota to retain my rights. I’d thanked God at the time and felt empowered.

Now my eyes fell on Matthew 10:37 as Jesus said:

“He who loves and takes more pleasure in father or mother more than in Me is not worthy of Me; and he who loves and takes more pleasure in son or daughter more than in Me is not worthy of Me.” Matthew 10:37

Suddenly God asked me, “If you lose your parental rights at that trial, will you still love Me?” Absolutely shocked, I nearly threw up. I was on a mission, a war to save my son. As if I’d just been in a car crash, time jerked to a stop; I shook my head in denial of the thought.

“God!!” I screamed in my head. “I hate the very idea of it!” I felt sick. My mind rewound over the past 5 months and all that God had done for me. This was the best time in my life, despite my difficult struggles. For several minutes, maybe longer, I scrambled to get rid of these new thoughts.

I was about to learn the concept that God fights for me when I’m pursuing His plans. Until now I’d been pursuing my own agenda and asking God to enforce it.

##I’d read in the book of Joshua:

¹³ When Joshua was by Jericho, he looked up, and behold, a Man stood near him with His drawn sword in His hand. And Joshua went to Him and said to Him, Are you for us or for our adversaries?

¹⁴ And He said, No [neither], but as Prince of the Lord’s host have I now come. And Joshua fell on his face to the earth and worshiped, and said to Him, What says my Lord to His servant?

¹⁵ And the Prince of the Lord’s host said to Joshua, ^[a]Loose your shoes from off your feet, for the place where you stand is holy. And Joshua did so.

Joshua apparently had a similar misunderstanding and was being set straight. He viewed God as a tool in Israel’s war and was learning that Israel was God’s tool. God is for Himself, and we are either for Him or against Him.

I remembered another verse:

Roll your works upon the Lord commit and trust them wholly to Him; He will cause your thoughts to become agreeable to His will, and so shall your plans be established and succeed. Proverbs 16:3

I tentatively thought about God and His plans. I was a little scared to follow this train of thought, yet I continued. The Bible says all of God’s plans are good. It seemed logical that when someone makes a good plan, they are excited about that plan. If God intended to have my rights terminated, then it was His good plan. It followed, therefore, that He was excited about it.

I did not know for sure if this was God’s plan, but I was not excited about it. I did not see it as good. This could put me on the wrong side of things. Redirecting my thoughts, I prayed again, “God, I hate the very idea of losing my son but I also absolutely need You. I believe Your plans are good. If this is Your plan, to terminate my rights,” my stomach rolled, “today I hate it. Please cause my thoughts to become agreeable to Your will, because I can’t do it. I want to love what You love. Amen.”

Horrified, I cried. Four months remained until the trial. I was in the fire, and God was with me in it.

Listener, do you find yourself surrounded by broke promises and problems you struggle to overcome? I understand, and you are not alone.

Jesus speaks to this in Matthew 5. He says:

³ “You’re blessed when you’re at the end of your rope. With less of you there is more of God and his rule.

⁴ “You’re 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.

⁵ “You’re blessed when you’re content with just who you are—no more, no less. That’s the moment you find yourselves proud owners of everything that can’t be bought…

⁷ “You’re blessed when you care. At the moment of being ‘care-full,’ you find yourselves cared for.

⁸ “You’re blessed when you get your inside world—your mind and heart—put right. Then you can see God in the outside world.

⁹ “You’re blessed when you can show people how to cooperate instead of compete or fight. That’s when you discover who you really are, and your place in God’s family.

Let’s pray today for more of God, comfort from Him, contentment with who He says we are, caring for others and seeing God around us, with hearts made right with Him. Let’s pray to discover who we really are today and our place in God’s family!

Dear Jesus, thank you for teaching us. Thank you for your blessings. Help us to be makers and maintainers of peace, with a craving for more of You. Teach us today! Amen.

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Discover extra content in the blog post Love & Hate!!

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In this episode, we explore the journey of healing and transformation through loving and serving others. Despite facing broken relationships and personal struggles, I discover the power of love and reconciliation guided by divine intervention. Delving into scripture and prayer, I wrestle with the challenge of loving even my enemies, ultimately overcoming anger and rage with the help of God’s grace. Join us as we uncover the profound impact of forgiveness, redemption, and divine guidance in navigating life’s unexpected paths.

TRANSCRIPT

Do you struggle with anger? Do you need rescue from the hurt?

In April 2016 I found myself on an unexpected path. God urged me to heal broken relationships at a time when bitterness and rage would be the natural response. He also gave me a ministry of loving others. Discover with me the freedom found in obedience to God, even in our worst relationships.

We’ll uncover the secret to overcoming bitterness and finding joy in relationships with others. Listen until the end, you don’t’ want to miss a word! This is Love and Hate.

It was April 2016, and I’d spent the past three months trying to find a home in Minnesota for my son Tim. It was not going well. Tim, now age 13, was growing more despondent. He’d spent the past 2 and a half years in a slew of foster and group homes in Washington, so many I’d lost count. Tim was desperate to go home. I was hoping to find someone in Minnesota to care for him until I was released from prison.

 “Did you see who’s back?” I turned to see who Jen was talking about. The day room in Tubman was full, with women watching TV and playing cards. “There, by the window,” she added pointing to a woman sitting by herself.

MCF-Shakopee was originally built to house a mere 250 women, but with expansion and make-shift modifications, had increased the prison capacity to 600. At times during my stay the population would swell to over 700.

For overcrowding relief the DOC would HoF out male and female inmates, housing them off campus in county jails and federal prisons. Some inmates were gone a few months, some an entire year. Spending a year in county jail can be a very rough experience.

I followed Jen’s hand and saw Tiffani sitting by the windows. Tiffani,in her early 20’s, sat alone. She stared out the window and sucked her thumb. Rocking back and forth in her chair and gripping a strand of her hair in one hand she appeared lost in thought. I remembered her well and my heart sank. Tiffani was a difficult person, like thirty behavioral problems in one package. Right now, however, she looked pitiful. I narrowed my eyes and considered her.

Still reading my Bible every day, I read that Jesus often prayed all night. I did not pray that much. In fact days or even weeks might go by where I didn’t pray at all. I understood that if Jesus needed to pray for hours then I needed to pray more too!

Jesus also stressed our need to love people. In fact He said,

But I tell you, love your enemies and pray for those who persecute you, Matthew 5:44

I was not good at that either. I created a prayer list to help myself pray more, and I began to add people I didn’t like as well as those I already loved.

Are you interested in a more fulfilling prayer life? Do you struggle with this?

Now I stared at Tiffani and thought. She was an ABE student, which meant she would soon be in the class where I was a tutor. “Great, just great,” I thought miserably. ‘As if loving others wasn’t challenging enough.’

I considered adding Tiffani to my prayer list, but I didn’t want to because thinking about her any longer than necessary sounded unpleasant. Tiffani continued rocking in her chair as I thought, sucking her thumb, and staring out the window seeing nothing. I’d rarely seen her so quiet. Sighing, I decided I would add her to my list and pray for her and turned back to my friend. This choice would lead to surprising results.

One day I read in the Bible-

Regard (treat with honor, due obedience, and courtesy) your father and mother, that your days may be long in the land the Lord your God gives you. Exodus 20:12

I noticed it was one of the 10 commandments and the only one that came with a promise if obeyed. I puzzled over its meaning. I thought I understood respect, but I wanted to obey God exactly as He desired. Did I have to feel affection for my parents? Admiration? Would I need to ignore my own pain to obey?

I felt rejected in many ways by my parents – marginalized, disrespected, discarded. To cope I’d nurtured my hurts, grown them. I nearly screamed, ‘I will not be ignored!’

##I was hurting, angry at my parents. I had so many questions for God about what obedience to this command would look like in practice. Should I ignore what I felt in my heart? Did this mean never being validated? All these questions caused me confusion and concern.

‘Nice’ was what my family always tried to be. Defensive, hurt and angry were just below the surface for all of us.  I pictured a good relationship with my parents as one in which we ‘cleared the air’ and came to a mutual understanding about past hurts and disagreements. I believed this would alleviate my pain and rage.

After decades of trying to communicate with them in a way that would lead to mutual understanding I’d given up. Nothing had ever worked, in fact our relationship had grown worse, not better. I could no longer imagine improvement. Feeling stuck, I prayed, “Dear God, I see this command. Please teach me what it means to You so that I understand it.”

One thing I did feel was confident that God would answer that prayer. The past few months had taught me this. I was now reliably sending child support, losing weight, giving money to charity and I hadn’t missed a day of work in a year. I was not just brushing my teeth but flossing them daily, making my bed every day, and this list was growing. I was finding it hard to recognize my own self! It was wonderful.

“Hi Mom! Guess what!” I paused and waited with excitement.

“What is it?” my mom asked. I’d called her after work to share my new confidence in God and commitment to obey Him.

“I’ve committed to being a respectful daughter who honors her parents! I read this command in the Bible and I want to do it!” I burst out.

“That’s impossible for you,” my mom responded immediately, interrupting. Surprised, I was drawn up short, speechless. I’d always thought of my parents as religious, knowledgeable about the Bible and God. My mind immediately flashed to something Jesus told the religious leaders of His day..

It said in Matthew, “Jesus replied to them, ‘You are wrong because you know neither the Scriptures nor God’s power.’” Matthew 22 : 29

We ended the call and I prayed about the situation, kept praying. God’s commands felt counter to everything natural for me. I waited for answers and read. When I got to the book of Proverbs I became very interested. The first couple of verses promised some great things to the reader – wisdom, prudence, discretion, understanding. I wondered what some of these words meant, especially ‘discernment.’

I looked them all up in the dictionary, went searching for answers. I found a great description of discernment – it’s the expertise to easily tell the difference between two things that look alike to a lay person. For example, if I have an apple orchard I may easily discern the difference between two different breeds of apple. Anyone else may think they are the same kind of apple, even after careful study.

This excited me! Jesus often said the kind of people we are is made obvious by our ‘fruit’ – our results and behavior. I seemed easily fooled! I was twice married and both times I had thought I was marrying a Christian man. Both times I was painfully wrong. Clearly I had no discernment, but I wanted it! I dug into the book of Proverbs, ready to learn.

“My birthday will be horrible!” Amy complained the next day in class. A common sentiment, birthdays in prison were rarely fun. I looked over at her desk. Two women stood with her deep in conversation.

“I know what you mean,” Cathy soothed. “I’ve been here a year and my family has never sent me a letter or money.” All three women nodded their heads in understanding.

“Well I’ve given up on having a nice birthday,” Amy finished. She dropped into her desk, sulking. Special days here could be difficult. Suddenly I had an idea. I rose and headed for Amy’s desk.

“Amy, I heard it was your birthday,” I said as she looked up. Amy nodded, waiting. I kneeled down beside her and asked, “When is it?” She told me. Taking out a piece of paper I thought a moment and asked, “Would you mind if I sent you a birthday card?”

Surprise lit up her eyes as she smiled. “I’d like that!” she agreed. Greeting cards were purchased on canteen, which was unreliable. Never wanting to miss a special day for my children I’d learned to buy many in advance. I wrote her birthday on the paper along with her name and OID.

Standing again I surveyed the classroom. Twenty women busied themselves with work. Tapping my pencil I thought. Then I headed for the next student. “Kari, when is your birthday?”

‘Maybe I can’t make a good birthday for myself,’ I thought, ‘But I can help someone else.’ Soon I began keeping careful notes on a calendar in my room, and birthday cards became a regular canteen purchase.

 A few weeks had passed since I’d added Tiffani to my prayer list. Since added back to our class, I now saw her every day. This gave me the chance to discover how I could pray for her better. As I did so I found something interesting begin to happen. I began to care. Instead of wanting her to go away I wanted her to feel better. I prayed for her to get better. I cared about the outcome.

Anger, however, remained a problem for me. When I’d first arrived to prison my anger had been so acute I’d woken roommates in the middle of the night by swearing loudly in my sleep. I had nightmares of conflict and pain. I was ignorant of the fact that I had a rage problem, though. Once, many years earlier I had read that depression can manifest as anger. That resonated with me. I was not sad, but mad, so mad I felt paralyzed into inaction.

I didn’t realize how severe my rage was until given an anti-psychotic as a medication booster. This med was used to increase the effectiveness of my anti-depressant. I did feel better. I also stopped having angry nightmares and swearing loudly in my sleep. Then I learned it was an anti-psychotic and connected the dots.

There was one big problem. This extra medication had serious side effects, causing me to have tremors. Reluctantly I had stopped taking it years before, and the rage returned. Rage seemed to me less an emotion than a state of being. It didn’t feel like a constant emotion, but it was ever ready to explode onto the scene.

During my married life I’d thrown dishes and cell phones, stormed out of rooms, stomped out of the house, and worse. Often anger felt good, energizing. I didn’t realize how empowering I believed anger to be.

Sitting on my bed after work I read the Bible as I waited for dinner. I was reading the New Testament again. I came to these verses and after a quick scan I skipped them, then stopped…

“Get rid of all bitterness, rage and anger, brawling and slander, along with every form of malice.” Ephesians 4:31

I had ignored this at first because it sounded unreasonable. I was willing to try; I’d been trying for decades! It was impossible. Now I reevaluated. Just like honoring my parents, this must be doable or it wouldn’t be in here. I was learning I don’t do the work, God does.

I re-read it and considered. I reviewed all the blessings God had given me this year. I compared this to my life previously. No! I could not go back to that! I was desperate to keep God, certain now that I needed Him. This verse said I cannot have God and my rage too. I closed my eyes to pray.

This year had been very unusual for me, but God was about to set off rockets. I had no idea. I began to pray, unsuspecting. My plan was simple – just admit to God that I’d read this verse and understood I had to choose- Him or my anger. I wanted to tell Him that I needed Him. I did not know how to get rid of my anger, but I understood the choice, and I choose Him. I said that all to Him.

I thought this would be like when I asked God for help understanding how to honor my parents. I’d ask often and slowly learn, trusting Him for answers. Before I could open my eyes, however, the room lit up like the brightest day. My eyes were closed, but I saw it through my eyelids. Before I could wonder about that an enormous weight lifted from me, and great pain disappeared from my body. Immediately I knew this weight and pain had always been with me. I’d become so used to it I didn’t notice.

Now that this weight and pain were gone I felt staggered. Imagine having a migraine for 30 years and then immediate relief. It was like that. It sucked my breath away. At once I realized rage had been a physical presence in me, and it was gone. I could tell because I’d occasionally experienced mild relief from some medications. I knew what it could be like. This however, was a total cure like I’d never experienced before.

My eyes snapped open in wonder and shock. Like a physically ill patient suddenly better I wanted to test the cure. Mentally, tentatively, I explored the sore spots in my mind. I prodded the once angry, easily irritated places. I was ready for immediate relapse. I had not asked for nor expected an immediate answer from God. In fact, if you’d asked me prior I might have told you I doubted God did such things.

Now I sat wonderingly, in awe. I lifted my arms, watching my hands, curious to see if anything else was different. Confidence was slowly bleeding through me, certain of God’s work. A fatally wounded body knows it’s dying. A person cured knows the illness is gone! I KNEW. I also knew God’s cures are permanent.

I ran to the phone again, curious to see how this would work when things got tough. Let’s dive into the deep end of the pool!

I didn’t know it at the time, but I was about to experience the most difficult year of my life. While I might get angry in the future, however, my rage, which had been a constant burden, never returned.

Listener, do you suffer from bitterness, indignation, or resentments? Do you hold on to your hurts to feel better? Does letting go of them sound like an even greater violation? Have you tried to let go of the pain only to have it return?

The Bible says in Ephesians 4

³¹ Let all bitterness and indignation and wrath (passion, rage, bad temper) and resentment (anger, animosity) and quarreling (brawling, clamor, contention) and slander (evil-speaking, abusive or blasphemous language) be banished from you, with all malice (spite, ill will, or baseness of any kind).

Have you tried to let go of things before? Was it difficult, impossible?

The Bible tells us in Matthew that

²⁵ … the disciples … were utterly puzzled (astonished, bewildered), saying, Who then can be saved [from eternal death]?

²⁶ But Jesus looked at them and said, With men this is impossible, but all things are possible with God. Matthew 19:25-26

The Bible talks often about salvation, mentioning it hundreds of times. Jesus’ very name, which is Yeshua in it’s original Hebrew, literally means ‘to save or deliver.’

The angel Gabriel told Joseph,

²¹ She will bear a Son, and you shall call His name Jesus [the Greek form of the Hebrew Joshua, which means Savior], for He will save His people from their sins [that is, prevent them from failing and missing the true end and scope of life, which is God]. Matthew 1:21

What is salvation? Is it merely forgiveness? It is not. It is something greater. It is one thing to forgive a person of a sin. It’s another thing altogether to rescue them from the wrong thinking or behaviors that caused them to need forgiveness in the first place. This rescue is what Jesus tells us is possible with God.

bitterness, rage, and resentments need forgiving, yes. We also need saving from these negative behaviors! Rescue! Jesus tells us it is impossible on our own, but possible with God.

Let’s ask Him for help today!

Dear Jesus, please forgive us for our sins today. We ask for salvation from these sins. Please correct our wrong thoughts and actions. Heal our minds and relationships today. Amen

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CREDITS

Discover extra content in the blog post Taste & See!!

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From Surviving to Living: Transformation Through Faith

In this episode of ‘From Surviving to Living,’ Holly Bot shares her remarkable journey of transformation from a felon and sex offender who endured hard time, to being deeply moved by faith and the power of change through God. Holly opens up about the personal challenges she faced, including the battle to keep parental rights for her son, Tim, amidst financial struggles and personal growth while in prison. She recounts how embracing faith, practicing tithing, and putting others before herself led to unexpected personal improvements and a renewed sense of hope. Holly also delves into overcoming fear, anticipation of the future, and the importance of immersing oneself in God’s word to find happiness and purpose. The episode encourages listeners to face uncertainty with faith, seek transformation, and anticipate their future with joy through a relationship with Jesus, reflecting on prophecies and the promises of a joyful eternity according to the Bible.

TIMELINE

00:00 Podcast Introduction: The Journey from Surviving to Living
01:17 Episode Intro – Facing Uncertainty: Overcoming Fear and Finding Hope
02:24 Taste and See: A Story of Battle, Survival, and Faith
04:38 Financial Responsibility and Spiritual Growth in Prison
12:55 The Power of Anticipation: Learning Happiness and Preparing for the Future
13:32 Anticipating Eternity: Understanding God’s Plan for Our Future
19:35 Conclusion: A Prayer for Anticipation and Joy

TRANSCRIPT

Are you facing uncertainty? Is fear of the future weighing on you?

In January 2016, my parental rights were on the line for my son Tim unless I found him a home outside foster care. I would be confronted with financial challenges, unexpected weight loss, and new confidence from unlikely sources. Join me as we delve into overcoming fear, embracing hope, and triumphing over uncertainty.

Discover with me the secret to increasing happiness and how you can begin today! Listen until the end, you don’t want to miss a word! This is Taste and See!

A battle was on the horizon, one I hoped to avoid. Six months after I entered prison in 2011, my husband violated a restraining order and kidnapped my four younger children from my parents. He fled with them to Washington state.

Life didn’t go well for my children in Washington. Court records show my husband’s violent behavior towards women resulted in new restraining orders, his arrest record grew, probation violations became ordinary, and homelessness was common.

Our youngest son, Tim, had a challenging medical condition; if left untreated it could be fatal. My husband failed to care for him properly, and Tim nearly died. After receiving life-saving surgery he was placed in a foster home.

I was given a lawyer by Washington state who encouraged me to sign a waiver of my parental rights. This was a very confusing time for me, a frightening time. Normally I’m assertive. Prison, however, is an information vacuum. It shrinks a person. Facing 5 more years in prison, I signed the waiver. I don’t think I understood what it was. Three years later, hardened, ready for battle, I was ready to learn.

In January 2016 I asked my lawyer to revoke this waiver. I had become angry. I’d gone from scared to defiant. My release seemed closer, and Tim was having a hard time. I wanted to give him hope for the future and make plans with him in it. Social Services immediately responded by filing for termination of our parental rights. A trial date was set for September.

Have you ever made a decision without feeling informed? What did you learn from that experience?

“Holly, you can keep your son if you can find a home for him,” my lawyer mentioned one February afternoon. “That home, however, has to be in Minnesota,” she finished. Tim lived in Washington state, where my husband had moved from Minnesota after I was incarcerated.

“That’s great news!” I nearly shouted. “Thank you!” I made immediate plans to start calling everyone I could think of, certain Tim would be out of foster care soon. This seemed doable. I missed Tim very much.

I set my mind to finding a home for Tim and happily went to work the next day. My new love of the Bible had led me to read it every day. I worked as an English tutor at the prison. Our job included grading papers, helping students and occasionally creating assignments. Our teacher encouraged reading. When we didn’t actively have work to perform we were instructed to lead by example.

I had begun saving ten percent of my income in January because then I had learned about tithing. Ten percent feels like a lot, especially when one makes less than a dollar an hour. I had always been foolish with money, but I desired to be financially successful. Ten percent seemed doable, however, if one really tries. It made me feel good.

This day, I slipped into my chair at work and prepared for another day of grading papers. Jae, who had taken a sabbatical from tutoring for several months had just returned last week. She slipped into the chair next to mine, dropping her books on the table. She eyed my side of the desk. Usually prepared for the day with a stack of fiction books, the Bible sat alone by my hand. Jae raised a brow but said nothing. Her side of the desk included several new books.

Jae and I had been working together for a year and knew each other well. We both loved reading and shared favorite books. For the past year I’d read a fiction book a day. Since January I’d read nothing but the Bible. Jae had missed the transition, but now she was back, and curious.

As class began I opened to I Timothy. Class hummed along as I read, occasionally peeking over the book to check for raised hands. Scratching my arm I turned the page and stopped cold. A verse jumped out at me and I felt sick. It said:

Anyone who does not provide for their relatives, and especially for their own household, has denied the faith and is worse than an unbeliever. I Timothy 5:8

Let me back up a minute. I had learned some phrases in prison I’d heard no where else. One is “criminal thinking,” at least this term was used in a way I’d never heard before. It refers to distorted perceptions of reality, rationalizations or lack of consideration for others that can lead to bad behavior such as entitlement, justification, manipulation, minimizing consequences, defiance, being impulsive, or shifting blame.

How many of you have ever thought of being impulsive as possible criminal thinking? I bet not many. But there you have it. Well these types of thinking lead to bad behavior. I was now being reminded that this is what I was doing.

Due to a legal loop hole I wasn’t obligated (legally) to pay child support. I was still married, so the state was blind to my financial situation. I knew women in prison who were not married and had children. Their meager pay was garnished, even in prison.

I thought of my friend Katy. She was the hardest working person I knew. Because of fines and enforced savings in addition to child-support she received only 25% of her prison income, which to begin with was less than a dollar an hour. Despite this she worked over-time relentlessly in order to meet her needs. Additionally she was cheerful, generous and kind.

In contrast there was me. Having already paid restitution I received my full income. Was I cheerful, generous, kind? The Bible told me I had denied the faith, was worse than anybody. I had no integrity. I couldn’t recognize responsibility without being forced to do it. I did not take care of my own children.

I was cut to the quick! Where was my hate now? Where was my pride? Nowhere.

I wanted to obey this, and yet I was concerned. Inside I felt myself to be a weak person, emotionally ready to cave when things got tough. For the past few years I’d been spending money on junk food to feel better. My usually petite frame had taken on a lot of unwanted weight. I’d been unsuccessful at any attempt to lose weight. Misery prevented me from giving up emotional eating.

And yet, God had caused me to read his Word, crave His Word! I recognized this as God giving me abilities I didn’t have inside. I had read previously in Psalm:

Taste and see that the Lord is good! Psalm 34:8

This means literally “Try it! You’ll like it!” In order to try it out, you have to take a step, use the demo. Reading the verse in I Timothy now in class I nodded to myself. ‘I’m going to try it,’ I thought. ‘Hopefully God will make me do this too!’

After class I grabbed a yellow kite form. Filling it out I requested that Accounting automatically garnish my pay by an additional 25% and put in my savings. I determined that every so often, maybe once a month I’d mail a check from my savings to my husband. Finished with the kite, I dropped it in the mail.

Time passed slowly. As my husband and I were not on speaking terms I made no attempt to tell him of my plan to send money. After about 6 weeks something amazing became noticeable.

First, God was giving me the ability to do this, faithfully. It was not easy. I had to learn how to budget, plan really well for the future, and understand suffering and want in whole new ways. God was teaching me that He did give me everything I need.

Second, I began to lose weight without trying. This was unexpected. I was slimming down nicely, back to my size right out of high school! I must admit this, maybe more than anything, was such a reward I praised God and happily obeyed Him all the more. My inability to afford junk food caused me to lose all the unhealthy weight I’d gained. I’d have never guessed it!

I praised God in my heart, and worshiped Him everywhere I went. I craved His Word even more. What a great and awesome God!

And then came the day to drop my first child support check in the mail. Immediately fear swooped in. I imagined how this might turn out when the check arrived. Perhaps my husband, unused to receiving letters from me and expecting unkindness, would toss it out unopened. All “my” hard work for nothing. All my suffering for nought. Perhaps he would open it and seeing the small amount (less than $20), he would use it to make fun of me in front of our children. Again “my” hard work could be used to ridicule me.

I froze, check in hand, considering. I hated my husband so much. I knew he smoked, drank, did drugs. I knew he cheated on me. I knew he hit our kids. I knew he hated me. It was entirely possible, if he did open this envelope and cash this check, that he would spend it on things I hated to even imagine. Out of my hands was out of my control.

I desired respect, admiration, love. I was prideful, hurting and insecure. This check in the mail would be about obedience to God, I realized, not praise from a person.

What had obedience to God gotten me so far? His inner strength to be faithful with money, put others ahead of myself, and the reward of physical health. I glanced down at my feet, feet I was easily seeing again for the first time in years. I kicked out a toe, smiled.

I released the letter into the mailbox, flooded with warmth. I was accountable for my actions, not my husband’s response.

I spun from the room and headed outside to enjoy the day!

Dear Listener, are you facing an uncertain future today? Uncertainty can leave you feeling hopeless and depressed about the days ahead, it can exaggerate the size of the problems you face, and it can even paralyze you from taking action.

Recently I researched how uncertainty can affect people and came across a mental health article that suggested 5 tips to help in this area. They all boiled down to “get used to uncertainty.” Is that helpful? Hardly. Is there a better way? Absolutely!

Listener, how do you picture eternity? How do you picture heaven? If you had to write a 2 page essay on this, could you describe that much?

Most Christian churches rarely, if ever, teach on this subject. At all. I find this odd. While churches point individuals towards the afterlife, they fail to describe it. It’s like selling travel packages while refusing to discuss destinations. Ridiculous.

God says in the book of Isaiah

^9 “[Earnestly] remember the former things, [which I did] of old; for I am God, and there is no one else; I am God, and there is none like Me,

¹⁰ Declaring the end and the result from the beginning, and from ancient times the things that are not yet done, saying, My counsel shall stand, and I will do all My pleasure and purpose,” Isaiah 46:9-10

The Bible repeatedly points to fulfilled prophecy as direct proof that it is God who speaks. Past prophecy fulfilled confidently points us to our future as described by God, knowing He will carry it out.

A personal relationship with Jesus is key to our good future, but just imagine being in a relationship with someone and ignoring or placing little importance on a quarter of what they said. Imagine a relationship where you ignore the future of that relationship, don’t even plan for it!

Did you know that more than a quarter of the Bible, 27% or so, is predictive of the future, otherwise called prophecy. That’s more than one in four verses! About half of these prophesies have not yet come true, thus describing our future. There are 31,102 verses in the Bible, which means more than 8,000 of them are prophetic and more than 4,000 of them describe your future.

Why does the Bible talk so much about our future? Because God is excited about it and He wants you to be as well! But there’s even more to it!

According to a published article in a journal named Applied Research in Quality of Life, there is a connection between anticipation and happiness. A journalist from the New York Times wondered how this works with vacations. She wanted to know “whether the pleasure derived from anticipation is something that just magically happens after you book an airline ticket. Or can it be consciously increased?”

Turns out, anticipation that leads to happiness is an active, not a passive process. Elizabeth Dunn, a psychology professor, says “It’s better to immerse yourself, “ in the details of your future, adding this “encourages you to not only learn about your destination, but to dream, providing some concrete details for your mind to latch on to.”

And there are more advantages than just daily happiness! Another important advantage is that such immersion study is that it “provides novelty as an antidote to everyday routines” when we learn something new, which prevents boredom. It’s a spice of life!

Finally, the study found that the most effective methods for increasing happiness is talking with friends about your upcoming plans. Happiness scholars agree that being social is a fundamental way to feel happier. But not just talking about anything – research shows anticipating the future delivers more happiness than reflecting on the past, even a happy past.

Listener, Satan does not want you to be happy. He certainly doesn’t want you excited about God’s future plans for you. Satan will tell you lies to deter you from exploring what God has talked about in over 4,000 verses about your future. Satan will whisper that you are not clever enough to understand it. He will tell you it’s not important to know today. He will deter you with a focus on your past.

God loves you. He also has the best plan for your joy. It’s no coincidence that our minds have a connection between anticipation and happiness and God’s great provision for us to immerse ourselves in the details of our future, learn new things,  and share them with friends.

God concludes the Bible with an exciting image He’s looking forward to. It says in Revelation 21:

³ … See! The abode of God is with men, and He will live among them; and they shall be His people, and God shall personally be with them and be their God.

⁴ God will wipe away every tear from their eyes; and death shall be no more, neither shall there be anguish (sorrow and mourning) nor grief nor pain any more, for the old conditions and the former order of things have passed away.

⁵ And He Who is seated on the throne said, See! I make all things new. Also He said, Record this, for these sayings are faithful (accurate, incorruptible, and trustworthy) and true (genuine).

Jesus adds encouragement to you in chapter 22:

¹⁷ The [Holy] Spirit and the bride (the church, the true Christians) say, Come! And let him who is listening say, Come! And let everyone come who is thirsty [who is painfully conscious of his need ^[d]of those things by which the soul is refreshed, supported, and strengthened]; and whoever [earnestly] desires to do it, let him come, take, appropriate, and drink the water of Life without cost.

I encourage you to anticipate your eternal future with immersion in God’s word today! Let’s start now:

Dear Jesus, thank you for including us in your exciting plans for the future. Thank you for sharing the details with us so we can anticipate it with joy. Teach us as we immerse ourselves in your word, giving us confidence and certainty in our future. Amen

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Credits

Discover extra content in the blog post Breaking Bias!!

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In this episode of ‘From Surviving to Living,’ it’s the beginning of 2016, and I discuss the challenge of special occasions like birthdays behind bars, and my journey towards spiritual awakening through reading the Bible. I touch on the difficulties of sharing my newfound faith with my family and the rejection I faced from them. In this episode I also dive deep into how scripture challenged my existing beliefs and led me to understand the concept of being chosen and loved by God. I encourages listeners to seek a real relationship with Jesus, and share how questioning and seeking answers from God led me to a profound sense of His Presence and understanding.

Holly’s story is a testament to the belief that transformation is possible for everyone through a relationship with Jesus and highlights the alive and active nature of God’s word.

00:00 Welcome to From Surviving to Living
00:53 The Power of Transformation and Faith
02:17 Breaking Free: A Journey of Faith Behind Bars
03:15 Discovering the Bible: A New Perspective
08:05 The Challenge of Sharing New Beliefs
13:09 A Deep Dive into Spiritual Understanding
15:02 Experiencing God’s Presence and Lessons
21:08 Closing Thoughts: Your Story is Never Over

TRANSCRIPT

Do you seek solace through spiritual beliefs? Does this method of comfort leave you resistant to questioning those beliefs?

Early in 2016 God would begin to change everything in me. Despite these positive changes my family would soon reject and abandon me, offended by my new beliefs. Through it all, I would discover the secret to solace, which transcends mere belief, finding peace in an actual relationship with Jesus.

We’ll explore the experience of knowing Jesus and uncover the secret to real relationship with Him. Listen until the end, you don’t want to miss a word! This is Breaking Bias.

February 2016 and another birthday in prison for me. When I first arrived at prison it had been the month of March. Since my birthday is in February, I’d had an entire year before my first birthday there; I had watched other women celebrate birthdays all year, trying to make them special.

Holidays, anniversaries, and birthdays, the hardest times in prison. They are typically spent with family and friends, happy, but can be stark reminders of loss when one is away from loved ones. Most women tried to make the best of it in prison. I saw this was not easy for them. I vowed to make my birthday special but just like them, it never turned out the way I wished.

Is there a time of year that’s very special for you? How do you observe it? Have you experienced loss that makes holidays more difficult to enjoy?

For the past month I had been reading the Bible constantly, everywhere. I didn’t jump in at the beginning. Instead, I began towards the end, hesitant and unsure. As I came to a teaching in the book of I Peter, I read a verse I remembered hearing when I was young:

²⁰ knowing this first: that no prophecy of the Scripture is of any private interpretation. ²¹ For the prophecy came not in olden times by the will of man, but holy men of God spoke as they were moved by the Holy Ghost. II Peter 1:20-21

I didn’t completely understand this but it did make sense that if God wanted to write a book, He could. We think of authors like Stephen King as having a good editor and publisher. We take for granted their books are as they, the author, intended. Why think human authors have abilities superior to God? Either God can do god-like things or He is not a god, not worth worshiping.

I also found something in the book of Hebrews I’d heard before at church but had never felt was explained well:

For the word of God is alive and active. Sharper than any double-edged sword, it penetrates even to dividing soul and spirit, joints and marrow; it judges the thoughts and attitudes of the heart. Hebrews 4:12

Now however I wondered, ‘How is the word of God alive? How can it be active? It’s a book! It’s been the same for thousands of years.’ Soon, however, God would explain this concept to me. I was about to be surprised and delighted.

I quit reading when I got to the last book, the book of Revelation. While I was engaged from the start, I didn’t feel confident reading that unusual book. Secretly I worried whatever new enthusiasm to read the Bible I’d been granted wouldn’t get me through it.

God had given me a supernatural desire to read His Word, that was more than obvious to me. I was used to experiencing my own instability and unreliability, however. All my life I rarely completed anything I started. I suppose I feared this experience would be no different, so I was cautious about doing anything I feared might ruin it.

My parents had taken me to church. I’d listened to many pastors. Maybe I believed I’d been told everything necessary, and whatever I didn’t know I’d be fed by some pastor or teacher eventually, so I’d felt no urgency for God or the Bible.

I didn’t enjoy church, the people there. What I had enjoyed was being a know-it-all. My church upbringing gave me knowledge, but I wasn’t eager for more back then. Now I thrilled to just to read the Bible!

I know my situation was not unique. In years since I have heard many similar stories from others. Like them, I had heard of a personal relationship with God, with Jesus, but I’d never understood the mechanics of it. My “relationship” with Jesus until this point had been an infrequent monologue – me talking at God as well as hearing about Him from others. Similar to writing a Hollywood star and following their life in the news, I was a fan, not an actual friend, of God. I urge you to evaluate your own situation today!

A.W. Tozer says in his book Voice of a Prophet, “You have a right to be consciously aware of meeting God…

“I charge that in the modern evangelical church we are not consciously aware of a Presence. We are not consciously aware of God. We do not hear His voice; we hear only a recording of His voice. We do not see God’s face; we see only a painting of His face. We hear not the sound of His voice; we hear but an echo of that sound. We are always once removed from God. When we stop looking at a picture of God and begin looking at God; when we stop hearing the echo and hear God’s voice itself; when instead of having God in history we have Him in experience, we will begin to know what Abram knew when he fell on his face before God.”

By early 2016 I had been incarcerated almost 5 years. My parents, who lived nearby, visited me weekly. Retired, they had turned into snowbirds. Deciding Minnesota was no place to be when it’s cold, they had chosen Florida as their new winter home the previous year.

Reluctant to leave me without company, they asked church friends to visit me in their absence. Two wonderful women agreed. I enjoyed getting to know them. My new reading left me excited to share what I was learning! It would not go as I expected. In fact, I would experience many unusual responses to my growing excitement about Jesus soon.

By the end of January I had read much of the New Testament. I was so encouraged by my reading that I started over again. I came to this verse a second time:

¹⁴ The person without the Spirit does not accept the things that come from the Spirit of God but considers them foolishness, and cannot understand them because they are discerned only through the Spirit.” I Corinthians 2:14

I thought nothing of it right away. I believed I did understand spiritual things because other people had shared THEIR understanding. It never occurred to me I had not been personally taught by the Spirit – only men had taught me. I also had no way of knowing if what I had been taught by these men was really from God. It never occurred to me that there was a way to know the difference. I was about to discover many new exciting things!

As I read this verse in I Corinthians 2 now, I thought verse 14 must describe an unsaved person, which was certainly not me. Confirmation bias – an unconscious behavior where a person pays attention to information that confirms their existing beliefs and ignores evidence that points to a different belief, probably prevented me from seeing the truth. I would come to read many things now that would challenge my existing beliefs.

A few weeks later in February I got to the book of I John again. I read for the second time:

“As for you, the anointing you received from him remains in you, and you do not need anyone to teach you. But as his anointing teaches you about all things and as that anointing is real, not counterfeit—just as it has taught you, remain in him.” I John 2:27

 I sat and thought. It began to dawn on me that I could ask God Himself to teach me, in fact I should. I began to ask Him direct questions often while I read. I also began taking notes as I read.

Growing up I had often heard about “the will of God” and “God’s will for your life.” God’s will had seemed to me to be like fortune telling, which is also elusive and hard to be certain about. Now I found verses that mentioned God’s will and what it was – exactly. I thought my children might be eager to know so I began sharing these things with them in my letters!

Do you struggle to understand spiritual things – the things of God and the Bible? Are you eager to know God’s will?

My letters to them grew longer. Now, in addition to my usual conversation I began to add all that I was learning, excited to have their lives enriched. Almost immediately, my son Tom stopped talking to me, without explanation. This was not unusual but it was upsetting to me. I recalled the previous year when Lukas had done the same, all due to a misunderstanding.

The previous February had been my last phone call with my daughter Vivi, although I didn’t know it at the time. We’d had a nice conversation and I expected to talk with her again soon. My husband, however, had different ideas. He announced to my children that I was not going to talk with Vivianne anymore, he would not allow it. He also told them that I had been informed by him of this change. I knew nothing about it. He never spoke to me.

For the next 3 months I regularly asked to speak with Vivi whenever I called, however I was told she “wasn’t home” or “she was busy.” Finally in May Lukas became frustrated with me and told me to stop asking him to put Vivi on the phone when I knew very well it wasn’t allowed. He further explained that he was sick of me trying to get him in trouble just so I could talk with my daughter. I was stunned. I had no idea what he was talking about.

I asked Luke to explain and when I learned what he thought I tried to reassure him, telling him his dad had not actually spoken to me about this new rule. Despite my reassurances, the situation was too much for Luke. He decided not to talk with me for months afterwards. This is a common example of how our lives went, my children going in and out of my lives, often without me having the slightest clue as to why they were upset.

In addition to sharing the Bible with my children in letters, I also called my mom. “Mom! I’ve read the New Testament! I read it in like three weeks,” I raced out, “and now I’m reading it again!” My mom didn’t tell me this at the time, but she didn’t believe me. I was a known liar and prone to exaggeration, an attention seeker. She thought I was making things up. I didn’t notice her hesitancy. She, like Tom, would also stop talking to me soon. By the end of the year all of my family would reject and abandon me except my dad.

Meanwhile, I grew increasingly curious about what the Bible said. I started reading it again for the third time, beginning with the book of Matthew.

When I came to the book of Ephesians for the third time I almost skipped chapter one. I had been unconsciously skipping much of what I read these past weeks, probably because of confirmation bias. My entire experience of craving the Bible was so strange, though, I was now willing to challenge my previous beliefs. I stopped myself from skipping the chapter, asking myself, ‘What am I doing ignoring this?’ I re-read it:

^3 “Praise be to the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, who has blessed us in the heavenly realms with every spiritual blessing in Christ. ⁴ For he chose us in him before the creation of the world to be holy and blameless in his sight. In love ⁵ he predestined us for adoption to sonship through Jesus Christ, in accordance with his pleasure and will” Ephesians 1:3-5

My church had taught that humans have free will, choosing God. These verses appeared to say the opposite. ‘God chose who to save before He created the world?’ I questioned it, stunned. This rocked my world. I was afraid to wonder what it meant.

As I thought, I reviewed the past couple weeks. I was 41 now. My desire to read this Bible was not my own. I knew myself very well and Someone Else was energizing me. This being true, I must take this Book and the Person Who wants me to read it seriously. I sighed.

Deliberately I prayed, “God, I don’t understand. I don’t want to skip anything You wrote. What does this chapter mean?” I don’t know what I expected from that prayer. Experience had taught me I should expect nothing. My new experiences suggested I might get an answer. How, I didn’t know. I read a little further and then…

I remember this moment very well. An alertness, God’s immediate Presence, arrived, could be felt. I suddenly understood the author to be in the room, about to explain things to me. While I didn’t instantly understand the complexity of this passage in Ephesians, what I did know, immediately, is that it is Truth, the truth about God’s love for me!

I reeled, with wonder! Time stopped, these words revolving in my mind… “He chose us in Him before the creation of the world” …. “In loveHe predestined us for adoption.” I closed my eyes and through the blackness I imagined a time before the creation of the world. Pinpricks of light swam in the darkness and through it I imagined God, at that very moment, knowing and choosing me. This sank in, the words made sure and certain by His Presence in the room and my craving for Him and His Word.

It was all undeniable – the comparison of my life without Him before this year, His Presence in my life now. As the truth sank in I thought, ‘He chose me. He chose me! HE CHOSE ME! I am chosen! I am loved.’

My arms and legs flooded with warmth. Rarely did I ever cry. I was not an emotional person, however tears sprang to my eyes. Again I thought slowly, with wonder, ‘I. Am. Loved.’ I didn’t understand how or why, but I knew it was true.

I had no more expected God’s Presence then I had expected to have a sudden craving for the Bible in January. Everything was new territory!

I doubt the Israelites had expected Pharaoh to release them – throw them out! I doubt afterward, they expected the Red Sea to part, manna from heaven, Jericho falling, the sun standing still in the sky, after, after, after… Israel seemed chronically surprised! I could now understand why. I’d always thought I was creating my own agenda and carrying it out. I’d planned none of this, however, and never would have. Clearly God makes the plans and leads man through His own agenda.

Again in A.W. Tozer’s book, Voice of a Prophet, he says, “I firmly believe that if you are where you are now because of your ingenuity and maneuvering, you are probably not where God wants you to be. The call of God is a divine moment that is impossible to replicate. Elijah, himself, never knew where he was going to be. His life was a constant reaction to the voice of God.”

I had asked God for help because His Word says to ask Him. My life experience had not prepared me for His arrival, however, His Presence. Awesome! Intimate. Beautiful. I realized it was possible there were many ideas new to me! God now began to teach me in a whole new way and convict me of my sin also in a whole new way.

Can you relate to desiring God’s Presence in your life? God is interested in you! Jesus says, “Ask and it will be given to you; seek and you will find; knock and the door will be opened to you.For everyone who asks receives; the one who seeks finds; and to the one who knocks, the door will be opened.” Matthew 7:7-8 Ask today!

Delighted, I began to realize His Word is alive because God is alive and here! Now I couldn’t stop the questions coming. Sometimes God answered by directing my attention. He showed me this verse in Acts:

“One of those who listened to us was a woman named Lydia, from the city of Thyatira, a dealer in fabrics dyed in purple. She was already a worshiper of God, and the Lord opened her heart to pay attention to what was said by Paul.” Acts 16:14

Fun! Another time I read Jesus saying, “The first will be last, and the last will be first.” It seemed important but I could not understand it. I thought and thought and finally I asked God to show me the meaning. Later I went to dinner in the cafeteria, where God gave me an object lesson I didn’t expect.

Dinner trays are distributed to inmates in 3 long lines. Having received my meal, I sat to eat. Suddenly my attention was drawn to the nearest line. Someone didn’t want to wait at the end.

Pushing her way to the front a woman waved to a server and shouted, “Give me the next tray!” Women who had been waiting for ten minutes grew angry. Reaching an arm across the counter the woman snatched a ready tray. Before anyone could react she stormed off towards a table.

I was so surprised my hand wavered, fork suspended halfway to my mouth. I set my fork down thoughtfully. This woman had just been first, no doubt. It was a dramatic presentation of arrogance.

I turned my attention to the women at the end of the line. I supposed this was the opposite then – humility. I remembered:

“You save the humble but bring low those whose eyes are haughty.” Psalm 18:27

Smiling, I remembered to say a prayer for my own meal. “Dear Jesus, thank you for answer to prayer, and the lesson you just gave. Thank you for this food. Amen.”

I had not yet learned about pride as it related to me. I was a very insecure person who acted very defensively and arrogantly to overcompensate.

I had been unteachable, obnoxious. Hard lessons were in my future as God removed wrong ideas from me. Thankfully, God is a gentle Teacher.

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Discover extra content in the blog post Surprised by Joy!!

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This is the episode you’ve been waiting for – and you won’t be disappointed! It was October 2015 and my life was about to take a dramatic turn. Soon my life would be filled with wonder, excitement and peace! Life didn’t get easier, in fact my circumstances would become even more dire. I was about to discover the “peace that passes all understanding.” I would never be the same, and thank God for that!

Do you wonder what true transformation looks and feels like? Do you want it for yourself? Listen today, you’ll be glad you did!

TRANSCRIPT

Are your beliefs facing a storm of doubt? Do you fear that your connection with Jesus might be slipping away?

In the fall of 2015, my oldest son began to deconstruct his faith, ultimately becoming an atheist. Challenged by his doubts, I began a quest to fix things. Join me as I explore the role of doubt and how it can lead to deeper understanding. Discover with me the secret to transformation through Scripture.

Are you ready for a genuine connection with Jesus today? Listen until the end,  you don’t want to miss a word! This is Surprised by Joy.

I think of this as the beginning. I was asleep, maybe dead all my life, before 2016. I was 40 years old.

“Mom, I’m not sure I believe in God anymore,” my oldest son Noel explained on the phone. It was October 2015, and Noel had just turned 21.

Trying to remain calm I asked, “Why do you say that?” Noel had gone to a Christian school, living with my parents after I went to prison. They had taken him to church every Sunday.

“I’m not certain He exists,” Noel answered. “I’m not an atheist. I guess I just don’t know,” he finished.

Are you uncertain about God? Are you looking for answers?

The call left me tense; I considered solutions. I also went to a Christian school, was taken to church every Sunday. I wanted to fix this.

Recently I took the Myers-Briggs personality test. I am the INTJ classification type, placing an emphasis on logic and fact rather than emotion, with a strong desire for competence and knowledge. The church I was raised in was intellectually stimulating, with biblical archeologists, theology professors, and interesting guest speakers. I felt confidence in this knowledge and was eager to learn.

When I was very young, about 4 years old, my mother tells me she explained salvation to me. She shared that Jesus died on the cross for our sins, and that He had risen from the dead. Jesus is alive today. She showed me John 3:16 and Romans 10:9-10.

“For God so loved the world that he gave his one and only Son, that whoever believes in him shall not perish but have eternal life.” John 3:16

⁹ “If you declare with your mouth, “Jesus is Lord,” and believe in your heart that God raised him from the dead, you will be saved. ¹⁰ For it is with your heart that you believe and are justified, and it is with your mouth that you profess your faith and are saved.” Romans 10:9-10

She asked me if I believed. She prayed with me. I do not remember any of this. But she wrote the date in my Bible. At age 6 or 7 I was baptized at our church. This I do remember, a little. I remember having stage fright. Standing next to the pastor, staring out at the church, I was asked questions. Too terrified to respond I did nothing, said nothing. That’s what I remember. I was baptized regardless. This made me a member of the church.

As I grew up and became a teenager, I would hear the message of salvation many times. Though told I’d been saved, with that note in a Bible, I didn’t feel saved. So I’d pray again sincerely! I did this more than once. Nothing seemed different. Why? Was I already saved? Or wasn’t it working? I didn’t know.

Once, when I was in my twenties cleaning the house, a thought struck me, “Does God really exist?” It was so unexpected. My mind returned to a day when I was 17 years old.

“Hey! Let’s ride dirt bikes! We have some in the shed,” Mike pointed over my shoulder. I glanced at his dad’s cabin, considering. Without waiting for an answer he hiked up the drive. Tossing open the doors he rolled out 2 motor bikes.

The first roared to life easily. The second bike was lifeless. Mike’s brow creased in thought. He headed back into the shed for tools. I sat to watch. Thirty minutes passed without success. Mike is a determined person, but after an hour he was ready to call it quits. “I guess we can both ride together,” he said. “It won’t be the same, but it will still be fun.”

“Wait,” I said. We’d been friends a couple years. I’d often invited Mike to church. Mike enjoyed the people but he didn’t believe in God. “Before you put the bike away, how about I pray it starts, then you try it one more time?” I asked.

“What? I’ve been working on the bike for an hour,” he dismissed. “You want to pray, and you think the bike will just… start!” Mike laughed.

“Yes, exactly that,” I answered.

“Okay, fine. Go ahead,” Mike leaned back, ready for another good laugh. He waited.

I closed my eyes and prayed, “God, please make this dirt bike start now. Thank you.” I knew God could do this; He could do anything He liked. I did not know if He wanted to do it; I did not know if He would. I opened my eyes. Mike was watching me. I pointed to the bike and said, “Try it now.”

Mike leaned forward again to start it. VROOOOOOOOOOOOOOM!!!!! The bike ROARED to life. We both stepped back in shock.

Squeezing my eyes I had returned to my living room, my cleaning, my twenty something self. I shook away the thought that God doesn’t exist. Staring at my living room, I wondered why I doubted. I also wished for more in life. I was lonely, depressed, lost.

Now years later here I was, 40 years old and in prison, my son struggling with the same issue. Then I had an idea! I was enrolled in college classes, my current assignment to write a persuasive essay. This was it! I would prove God existed.

I ran into a problem. I thought to describe God, His character and attributes. I considered all I’d heard about Him. I wrote that down in a list. “Great!” I thought. “Good start.” Next I tried to find this in the Bible so I could use it.

I opened the Bible at random, scanned the page. Nothing obvious jumped out. I flipped the page, nothing. I sat back and flipped through the entire book, stopping here and there for a quick read. This was not going to work.

I thought more. My paper was due in a couple weeks. I’m a fast reader, but saw it was impossible to read the Bible that fast. “And,” I asked myself, “why would I want to? I’m only interested in a few things such as God’s character. I don’t need to know everything!”

“Mom, can you help me?” I posed the next afternoon. “I have an English paper to write, and I’d like it to be about God.” I explained the trouble I was having. I shared the list I’d made. She agreed to help, and found references for me.

Satisfied, I wrote my paper, coldly logical and analytical. Perhaps I knew about God. I did not know Him personally, though. I was confused by this distinction. A few years prior, my mom had sent me a book by A. W. Tozer called Knowing God, which brings together two key facets of the Christian faith—knowing about God and knowing God through a close relationship with Jesus Christ. The book confused me so much I didn’t finish it at the time.

I now felt unsettled by my obvious lack of expertise on the subject of God. I’d believed I was knowledgeable, and this experience had left me with doubts. Friday afternoon I finished my paper, sat back and scanned my room. Sunlight flooded in, and I lifted my eyes to my bookshelf. My Bible, unread, sat where I’d left it.

Thoughtfully I considered again. I’d heard of Bible reading plans. I didn’t have to read it quickly. Pulling it from the shelf I decided to try, determined to become knowledgeable for real.

Less than a week later I was defeated. I had to admit I preferred reading fiction. My plan had been to read the Bible daily, and I’d failed immediately. After a week I didn’t want to continue. It was boring and I didn’t understand it. I had better things to read.

I returned the Bible to my bookshelf with a sigh, pushing the spine with my finger. I felt guilty, yet relieved. I prayed, “God, if You want me to read it, You’ll have to make me want to. I don’t like it.” With that, I left the room and forgot all about it.

Months passed. Christmas arrived and with it special treats. A mission donated paper grocery bags filled with goodies and Bible studies to the prison. After Christmas dinner I excitedly made my way to the cafeteria door, watching women receive their gift and looking forward to enjoying mine. Every year we received some small thing but this was the biggest gift bag we’d ever seen!

Practically running back to my room I imagined all the good things that must be inside, cookies, candies, snacks! The nice man who had delivered the bags had been smiling and kind. I wanted to hug him! I hoped he would return every year.

As I unwrapped a candy bar I ran my hands over bags of chips and treats. This could last for a month! At the bottom of the bag were booklets. I pulled one out at random and plopped on the bed. Chewing, I flipped open the first page. “Sinners will not enjoy heaven…,” I read.

‘That’s the weirdest thing I ever heard!’ I thought. ‘Isn’t the definition of heaven “whatever we think is wonderful”?’ I puzzled. I pulled the book closer and put down the candy.

“Heaven is what God thinks is wonderful, and sinners do not naturally enjoy what God loves,” the book explained. I thought back to my experience reading the Bible. How boring it was! “Well that seems true,” I admitted. “I didn’t like the Bible. I didn’t really like church. But I want to go to heaven! And I want to like it!” I picked up my candy and took another bite, chewing thoughtfully. I read the rest and turned the page.

“God is the main character of the Bible, not man,” it said. “People misunderstand because they see man as the central figure.” Captivated, I wondered. ‘Is it true? Is God the main character in the Bible?’ That’s not how I’d heard it. I’d heard lots of stories about men in there. I could name them, like hall of fame heroes.

I pulled out another booklet, this one about tithing. I’d heard of that before – giving money to your church. I turned the page and was shocked. “If you don’t tithe you are stealing from God,” it began.

“I can’t believe it says that!” I fumed. I was stung, angry. I tore open a bag of chips and considered doing something else.

I chose a different booklet, something from the bottom of the bag. “Salvation is a process, not just a decision,” it announced. I’d never heard of such a thing! That sounded bad, like working your way to heaven. I was certain it was wrong. And yet they had Bible verses about it. This was a lot to think about. I set everything aside for later.

The new year arrived, January 2016. The prison went on lockdown which meant everyone confined to their room 24 hours a day. Lockdowns can occur due to short staffing, emergencies, or even holidays. Inmates are not always told the reason.

This lockdown lasted longer than the library books I had. Finishing the last I eyeballed the Bible still on my shelf. I was curious to see if God really was the main character. Reclining on my bed I opened the Bible to I Corinthians and started reading.

Have you ever seen a person shocked to life with paddles? Or more likely, have you ever been prepared for the worst date ever, only to fall in love at first sight?

I read, and… Lunch passed, I missed it. Dinner came and went. I didn’t notice. Time stopped as I ate up the words on the pages. Midnight arrived and I fell asleep, Bible in hand, exhausted.

Was I a thief? If salvation is more than a decision, what is it? What is transformation? How can I see things from a different perspective, where humans are not center stage and God is?

Morning found me confused about my experience the day before. ‘The Bible is boring and old,’ I recalled. ‘Perhaps yesterday I read parts I never saw before. The boring parts are there and I’ll prove it!’ I rationalized. ‘When I find them then I can stop reading it.’

Plan formed I read the day away, gripped again from the start. I hardly noticed time passing. I did not get bored. Instead, I found relevance. I was fascinated.

The third day I had another talk with myself. I never enjoyed church as an adult. I found prayer boring, a chore, the Bible another chore. The past two days had been thrilling; in fact ever since Christmas pursuing God had been interesting, effortless!

I knew in my heart that any previous results I attributed to prayer I thought could be coincidence. Those situations could have happened regardless. I could not tell if God was at work intentionally. How would I know? Like the motor bikes I knew God could do anything; what does He want to do?

But this! This was God’s Word, the Bible itself. God would want people to read it, that was obvious now. What had me crying out “Father God!” was that God gave His desire to me. He wanted ME to know Him! He was proving it. What a shock, yet undeniable! I felt loved, I fell in love. I wanted more!

Work resumed and I returned all of my library books. Instead of checking out new books I read the Bible constantly. I read it at work, at meals, I read it while waiting for doctor appointments. I had no desire to stop.

God was a Person Who was being very intentional with me. I struggled to realize my wrong thinking which had been a barrier to genuine relationship with Him. God pointed me to my own situation.

Incarceration was hard on my family, especially my children. My relationships were strained before prison; now most were broken. My children felt the stress, surrounded by adults who struggled to not (or often did) say what they thought about me.

After 5 years I felt a strange disconnect between us. My children believed they knew me well. They spoke with authority on the subject of “Mom,” or “what mom would do,” “what mom thinks,” or “what mom did.”

I didn’t recognize myself in the stories they told, the person they described. I was shocked and dismayed by what they said. Oddly, they didn’t ask me about their accuracy. If I disagreed this simply confirmed any negative views and labeled me ‘disagreeable’. They listened to other people, and let that define me. Unfortunately their so-called knowledge was interfering in their ability to have genuine relationship with me.

For many years, however, I had written my children hundreds of letters, thousands of pages. There I was – my character (good or bad), my past, my thoughts, my plans – plain as day for them right from the source, Mom!

I could tell when listening to my children on the phone that most of these letters went unread. I’d agonize as I listened to them, frustrated and thinking, ‘If you would just read my letters you wouldn’t have all these wrong ideas and we would have a great relationship!’ Even worse, their negative ideas would often cause such stress they would break contact with me altogether.

Now I realized, I had done the same to God for 40 years. He had written thousands of pages, pouring out His heart, His plans, what He would do, what He thinks, His character. For half my life I’d been a know-it-all, felt knowledgeable with a church upbringing. I’d spoken with authority about God. I’d relied on second-hand information, instead of the Author Himself, His Word.

As I read His Word now, I knew, Jesus was hurt by my behavior.

“¹¹ When I was a child, I talked like a child, I thought like a child, I reasoned like a child; now that I have become a man, I am done with childish ways and have put them aside.
¹² For now we are looking in a mirror that gives only a dim (blurred) reflection of reality as in a riddle or enigma, but then when perfection comes we shall see in reality and face to face! Now I know in part (imperfectly), but then I shall know and understand fully and clearly, even in the same manner as I have been fully and clearly known and understood by God.” I Corinthians 13:11-12

C.S. Lewis describes such a faith well in his biographical book Surprised by Joy. When he was a child his mother became ill. He prayed for her recovery and when she nevertheless died he prayed for a miracle. He describes this as his first religious experience:

“The thing hadn’t worked, but I was used to things not working, and I thought no more about it. I think the truth is that the belief into which I had hypnotized myself was itself too irreligious for its failure to cause any religious revolution.

“I had approached God, or my idea of God, without love, without awe, even without fear. He was, in my mental picture of this miracle, to appear neither as Savior nor as Judge, but merely as a magician; and when He had done what was required of Him I supposed He would simply – well, go away. It never crossed my mind that the tremendous contact which I solicited should have any consequences beyond restoring the status quo.”

With my new understanding, I decided to start saving 10 percent of my paychecks. I didn’t have a church to give it to, but I would give it to charity.

This was just the beginning, an amazing, unexpected start. I was filled with wonder.

Listener, do you struggle with doubts about your faith, about God?

Let’s talk about faith. Is it enough to believe God exists? Is that what faith is? The Bible says in Hebrews 11:6

“But without faith it is impossible to please and be satisfactory to Him. For whoever would come near to God must [necessarily] believe that God exists and that He is the rewarder of those who earnestly and diligently seek Him [out].”

This is the definition of faith, belief that God exists and that there’s value (reward) in knowing Him. This is talking about knowing something is true by experience. Experiential knowledge is knowledge gained through experience, as opposed to a priori (before experience) knowledge or textbook knowledge. In otherwords, not blind faith.

God’s Word repeatedly stresses knowing Who God is and what He is like through our own personal experiences. God says in I Kings, “you shall know and recognize by experience that I am the Lord” I Kings 20:28b

What experiences can we have that would confirm He is the Lord? Paul tells us in 2 Corinthians:

‘Examine and test and evaluate your own selves to see whether you are holding to your faith and showing the proper fruits of it. Test and prove yourselves. Do you not yourselves realize and know [thoroughly by an ever-increasing experience] that Jesus Christ is in you?’ II Corinthians 13:5a

This is important – talking not about knowing God exists, but that He is the boss of you, Lord of your life. What does it mean to show the proper fruit of our faith? John tells us in I John: “And this is how we may discern [daily, by experience] that we are coming to know Him [to perceive, recognize, understand, and become better acquainted with Him]: if we keep, bear in mind and practice His teachings.” I John 2:3

Listener, this next part is very important. Jesus Himself explains how this happens, how He removes all doubt when we follow these instructions. He says in John chapter 14:

The person who has My commands and keeps them is the one who really loves Me; and whoever really loves Me will be loved by My Father, and I too will love him and will show (reveal, manifest) Myself to him. I will let Myself be clearly seen by him and make Myself real to him. John 14:21

It’s a beautiful reminder that our doubts and questions are not obstacles but invitations to experience God’s love and presence in a deeper way. Let’s start today!

Dear Jesus, I pray for the person listening right now, and I pray for me. Please teach us by ever-increasing experience that you are Lord. Help us to examine our lives, understand your ways and live by them. Increase our faith today. Amen!

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CREDITS:

Discover extra content in the blog post Where’s My Son?

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Are you curious about the Holy Spirit’s power? Do you desire a deeper connection with spiritual strength in the midst of life’s challenges? Join me on a transformative journey as I navigate a challenging new job and fight for my parental rights, all while discovering the profound influence of the Holy Spirit.

In 2015 I would encounter new struggles as my youngest son Tim, in foster care, disappeared. I would face a lying social services caseworker willing to perjure himself in court to cover up his actions, and fight to find my son. As I embarked on this journey, a seed of faith was planted within me. Through exploring the teachings of the Holy Spirit, I uncovered a source of true power, ability, and resilience. In “Where’s My Son,” I’ll share my personal experiences and insights, revealing how you too can overcome uncertainty and adversity starting today.

Are you facing anxiety, uncertainty, or challenges in trusting others? Do you long for a sense of peace and purpose in your life? This content is for you. Together, we’ll explore the transformative work of the Holy Spirit and uncover practical steps to find peace, healing, and empowerment.

Join me on this journey of spiritual discovery and transformation. Together, we’ll unlock the power of the Holy Spirit and experience a newfound sense of purpose, resilience, and peace. Don’t miss out on the opportunity to transform your life from within.

TRANSCRIPT

How much do you know about the Holy Spirit? Do you want to experience the power of the Holy Spirit in your own life?

Join me as I start a challenging new job and fight for my parental rights. Amidst it all, a seed of faith is planted as I explored the teachings of the Holy Spirit, discovering the true source of power, ability and might.

I’ll reveal how you can overcome uncertainty and adversity starting today. Listen until the end, you won’t want to miss a word. This is Where’s My Son.

“Come work with me!” Jae urged me in the fall of 2014. “We need another tutor.” I shuddered at the thought. “Not a chance,” I answered. Jae was a tutor in Adult Basic Education (A.B.E). It could be argued that prison has neighborhoods with the unemployed its roughest and Education its angry twin. As one lives and eats with the people you work with, I had no interest in moving to that depressing neighborhood.

I worked as a clerk in the mental health unit. I had a very flexible schedule which allowed opportunities to call my son Tim who was in foster care. Our phone visit times were dictated by Brian, Tim’s caseworker. As an inmate in prison, nothing could be counted on. Unexpected raids, riots and lockdowns often prevented me from calling Tim, however any failure to call as scheduled would be written up by Brian in his reports as intentional on my part.

Sick of being described as an “uncaring mother who doesn’t bother to call her son when scheduled,” I’d obtained the most flexible work schedule possible. Soon I’d learn this job also had its drawbacks. I wasn’t making enough money to call Tim even when I was available.

Students like Edith, however,kept me from a better paying job like tutoring. Her mental health needs meant she didn’t live with the other students. She was Thin and anxiety made her awkward. She often asked for help with homework outside of class.

“I don’t understand this,” Edith jabbed at her paper. She was seated next to me in the day room. she crossed her arms. I leaned forward to study the work. Edith was learning basic math.

I decided to help her, as I picked up a pencil and wrote a number. “This is how you start,” I answered. Tensing, her shoulders rose, elbows dug into her side. I set the pencil down calmly, smiled.

Edith pushed the paper with a finger, huffing, “How did you know? How did… How did… How did…!” She squeezed her eyes tight, pursed her lips. She was winding up to a frustrated outburst. Lucy, sketching nearby, disappeared from the room with her things, eyes rolling. Edith didn’t notice. Winding up, she shook her head, teeth clenched.

Edith’s tension was contagious. A tiny woman, Edith took a room hostage, an emotional terrorist. She had few friends. The day room had gone silent, an army of heads turning at the noise, irritated at the disruption. Someone hollered, “Shut up Edith! You’re stupid!”

Edith’s eyes popped open and spinning in her chair, she studied my face. Her shoulders sagged as she rushed out, “Thank you for being nice to me!” blurring the lines between gratitude and desperation.

Edith had low standards. An absence of cruelty isn’t the same as the presence of kindness. While students like Edith were a big reason I didn’t want a job as tutor, my depression was another. School started early in the morning, lasted all day, five days a week. I was emotionally unstable so failure seemed certain for me. I feared being fired.

Do you struggle with anxiety and asking for help? Is it difficult for you to help someone even when you love them?

The following spring in May 2015, Jae urged me again to become a school tutor. This time I agreed. I met with Ms. Shaibley, an experienced DOC teacher. She immediately hired me and became a role model for me, an example of strength and grace in a hostile environment.

My new job meant moving out of the mental health unit. I was relocated to Tubman and here, in this new room, my personal transformation began, even though I was unaware at the time that I needed to change.

God orchestrates every detail of life and all falls into His plans. He was about to reach out to me, raising my awareness that I didn’t really know Him like I thought. A good friend loaned me a book about the Holy Spirit. I read it, intrigued and wondered, “Is this true?” I knew of the Holy Spirit, the third Member of the Trinity, however I was unclear about the Holy Spirit’s role. This book spoke of power, power given to us.

I read, “But you shall receive power (ability, efficiency, and might) when the Holy Spirit has come upon you, and you shall be My witnesses … to the ends (the very bounds) of the earth,” which is in Acts 1:8.

I still felt skeptical and uncertain. In past I’d relied on my church and parents to teach me. Why had they not mentioned this?

The author continued to cited the Bible and referenced the original Greek language. The author encouraged readers to seek the Holy Spirit, His power. I whispered in my heart, “If that’s real, I want it,” but I doubted. Where would I get this power if I didn’t have it already? Who was it for? Another week and I returned the book, dismissing it. A seed, however, was planted in my heart that would soon blossom, changing me in ways I didn’t know was possible.

I began my new job and my negative bias against students was confirmed immediately. Leah^* sat in the back of class and slept every morning with her head on the desk. “Ms. Shaibley, can you help me?” Leah whispered one day, raising her sleepy head an inch or two.

I was busy grading papers but my attention was caught as Ms. Shaibley crouched beside Leah’s desk. “What can I do for you, Leah?” she asked, searching Leah’s tired face. Leah pushed up, frustration creasing her forehead.

“My meds make me sleepy,” Leah complained, “but I have a directive to take them. I take them at breakfast, then I have this class.” Leah paused, sighed. I froze, listening. The room emptied of noise and people. Ringing began in my ears as Leah continued, “Can you help me, Ms Shaibley? Maybe switch when I take them?”

I didn’t wait for her answer. I felt embarrassed and guilty. My eyes lifted to the rest of the room. Who else did I misunderstand? Who else was hurting? Stung at the thought, I returned to grading papers with fresh eyes.

Evenings I called my children. The previous summer, after receiving a more flexible job schedule, I’d requested more phone visits with Tim. My request was immediately rejected, and visits terminated altogether. My request was seen as suspect and attributed to my crime as evidence of my evil character. Eventually Brian had insisted my phone calls with Tim be supervised and visits were restored.

Tim’s newest foster mom Melissa agreed to be a “supervisor” of our phone visits as soon as Tim was placed in her home. This had never happened before as previous supervisors were chosen by Brian from his office. I soon understood why Melissa was so eager for this assignment.

“Hi Holly! I’m so glad you called,” Melissa gushed as soon as she answered the phone. “I’m so excited to meet you! I told all my friends about you, Tim’s mom. We are going to be greaaat friends, I know it!” Surprised, I hesitated. Past phone supervisors had only listened.

 “Um, thank you,” I managed. “Is Tim there?”

“Oh yes,” Melissa cooed. “Timmy-kins is sitting right here, aren’t you honey bunny?” She paused for a breath. I heard Timmy meekly mmm-hmmm in the background. Returning to the phone Melissa marched on, “Tell me all about you, your day, prison! I want to hear all about it and then I’ll tell you all about myself!” I imagined Tim somewhere in her house as our minutes ticked away along with my five dollars.

Fifteen minutes later I had just enough time with Tim to say, “I love you, Tim. Next time we will get to talk to each other, I promise.” Drained, I went to my room. Melissa was a self-described hero, a perfect foster mom who did everything with L.O.V.E.

Summer bled into fall. “Holly! So glad you called! I look forward to our visits!” Melissa oozed. Traffic sounds echoed in the background.

Quickly I rushed in, “Actually I’m calling for Tim, remember? Is he there, please?” Tim’s voice echoed dimly in the background. “Tim?” I pushed.

“Oh don’t worry sweetie. Timmy-poo is here somewhere. We’ll get to him in a minute,” Melissa’s voice developed an edge. “Don’t you want to hear how I think he’s doing? Don’t you care about me?” The edge of her voice became hard. “I’m beginning to think you don’t like me. You’re always asking for Tim. Don’t you think I take good care of him? Tim Tim Tim!” she ranted.

Alarmed I wondered how to respond. For weeks and then months Melissa had dominated the phone visits, soaking up attention. Requests to speak with Tim were ignored, Melissa joyfully sharing. Eventually my insistence created a fracture in her composure. Irritation now leaked through easily.

Finally I asked for help. I explained the situation to Brian and he agreed to take care of it. I was relieved, but that relief would be short lived.

Spurned, Melissa refused to answer the phone again, terminating our visits. She then evicted Tim from her home, labeling him a trouble maker. At this point Tim had been in so many foster homes that his age (almost 13), medical condition and new label as “trouble maker” made him a difficult placement. He experienced several rapid temporary placements.

I was frantic to locate him, reassure him. Where was he??? I had no phone number for Tim now.  I called Brian. Brian’s slow, lazy voice contrasted my urgent panic, “Well, he’s moving every night or two, often spending the day at my office.” I pictured Tim with his meager belongings, shuffled from home to home, spending days with his backpack in an office.

I continued to write Tim, care of Brian, reassuring Tim I wanted to call. Brian stopped delivering the letters to Tim. I had no idea and continued to write.

Frantic to restore visitation, I called my Washington state attorney. She refused to answer and I left voicemails. ‘I’m not receiving visits. Where is my son??’ September turned into October. ‘Where is my son?? I have not spoken to my son!’

October turned to November. I received social service reports written by Brian stating Tim was receiving his court ordered visits with me. Outraged, I called attorney, social worker, frantic. ‘I have not spoken with Tim in three months! These reports are a lie! Where is my son??’

Feeling dismissed and ignored, I acted. Using the library computer I wrote a court petition to request a new attorney. I included documentation of several bar violations I’d experienced at the hands of my current attorney.

I mailed the petition to my attorney. This time she was interested in talking. She told me, “You cannot mail this directly to the court, so I will take care it.”

Late November a hearing was scheduled; I appeared by phone. The judge had not seen my document. My attorney had not shared it. “Ms. Aho,” the judge intoned, “we are here today because you’d like a new attorney?”

“Yes sir,” I responded, unaware the judge was uninformed. I waited. My attorney filled the silence.

“Your Honor, Ms. Aho, is very demanding. But if she doesn’t like my hard work, I will step aside.” I wondered how she could say this in light of my petition.

The judge didn’t wait for me to respond. “Ms. Aho, this court has provided you with a free attorney. I’ve received no information that your attorney is not adequate. Don’t bother us with your nonsense. Motion denied.” The phone disconnected.

Shocked, I stared at the receiver. I could almost here my crooked attorney laughing. I pursed my lips, resolve straightening my spine.

I mailed my petition directly to the judge the next day. Another court hearing was scheduled and the mood was quite different. “Ms. Aho, I see you’ve outlined reasons you’d like a new attorney?” the judge asked almost gently. I was surprised at his new tone.

Before I could answer my attorney interrupted, “Your Honor! Ms. Aho has sent this petition to the court without my permission! I’m outraged!”

“Excuse me, but if half of this document is true, then your behavior is an outrage!” the judge surprised everyone by saying. Pausing to regroup, he resumed, “Ms. Aho, you have this court’s apology. While we provide a free lawyer, we believe in providing a good lawyer. I am granting your request.”

This felt like a win, but it was a temporary triumph. Brian continued to lie. The court moved on, uncaring. Meanwhile, my letters to Tim, undelivered, stacked up on Brian’s desk.

Tim had no idea any of this was going on. His dad had stopped visiting him long ago. Tim received all of Brian’s false reports and now believed I had abandoned him also. He cried alone in his room, wondering where everyone was.

Initially compliant with social services and my attorney, I’d signed a voluntary waver of my parental rights 2 years previous. Shocked by these events, I reevaluated. In January 2016 I asked my new attorney to tear up that waver. I wanted my son.

Immediately social services moved to terminate parental rights and a trial date was set. The gloves were off. I would not be in the fight alone. It was at this time, the perfect moment, that God revealed His power.

Listener, Are you tired of feeling stuck in conflicts and frustrated by your circumstances? Have you achieved temporary victories, only to find yourself back at square one? Are you searching for a lasting and effective solution to your challenges? The answer lies in the words of Jesus in John 14 and Paul’s teachings in Galatians, which shed light on the transformative power of the Holy Spirit in our lives.

Jesus tells us in John 14

But the Comforter (Counselor, Helper, Intercessor, Advocate, Strengthener, Standby), the Holy Spirit, Whom the Father will send in My place, to represent Me and act on My behalf, He will teach you all things.

In Galatians Paul tells us more, saying

²² But the fruit of the Holy Spirit (which is) [the work which His presence within accomplishes] is love, joy, peace, patience (an even temper), kindness, goodness, faithfulness,²³ Gentleness, and self-control. Galatians 5:22-23

The first time I read those verses, I misunderstood, interpreting the qualities listed as goals for me to achieve, rather than recognizing them as the natural outcomes of the transformative work of the Holy Spirit. Focusing on my external actions, rather than internal transformation, I believed I needed to actively work on being kinder or more patient, rather than understanding that these qualities develop organically because of the Holy Spirit’s presence and influence within them. However, these verses do not instruct us on what actions to take; rather, they illuminate the transformation that occurs within us through the work of the Holy Spirit.

So, what is this transformative work, and how does it lead to the qualities mentioned in the verses, ultimately bringing us peace? Let’s review the roles of the Holy Spirit as Jesus describes.

Jesus tells us the Holy Spirit is a Comforter. The science of comfort tells us comfort can calm emotions and give us time to sort our feelings.  Whether you are happy, angry, worried, sad; comfort is as mood stabilizer.

Are you facing challenges with your mental health? Comfort is a key to your mental, physical, emotional, and spiritual well being. It is more than just a warm feeling—the power of comfort can:

• Increase your capacity to relax and rejuvenate.
• Slow down your breathing.
• Lower your blood pressure
• Boost your energy levels
• Activate your body’s natural healing processes.
• Reduce stress hormones, fostering a sense of peace and balance.
• Alleviate pain and suffering
• Enhance your creativity

The Holy Spirit is also a Counselor. Counseling allows individuals to explore their feelings, beliefs, and behaviors, work through challenging or influential memories, identify aspects of their lives that they would like to change, better understand themselves and others, set personal goals, and work toward desired change.

The Holy Spirit is a Helper. Helpers aid people in accomplishing their life mission and purpose while acting as a companion.

The Holy Spirit is an Intercessor. This is someone who talks to God on our behalf, asking for God’s divine intervention in our lives.

The Holy Spirit is an Advocate. This is someone who provides information to help you make informed decisions. They contact relevant people and support you in your meetings and appointments.

The Holy Spirit is a strengthener, increasing our strength and making us stronger.

Finally, the Holy Spirit is a Standby for Jesus, which means a person we can rely on, especially in emergencies.

Are you aware that the Holy Spirit does all this work on our behalf, for us and with us? With great comfort and counseling I can imagine easily becoming more patient, with self-control. With a helper and advocate I can see joy and faithfulness filling my life. With new strength and someone to rely on I see peace within reach.

Would you like to have all of this? This, my friends, is awesome and possible for you! Jesus tells us how to begin:

If you then, evil as you are, know how to give good gifts to your children, how much more will your heavenly Father give the Holy Spirit to those who ask and continue to ask Him! Luke 11:13

Why is persistent asking important to do?

Persistent asking demonstrates your commitment and. It forces you to clarify why it’s important to you and what you’re willing to do to make it happen, helping you understand your priorities better. Finally, it also strengthens relationships by showing your dedication and commitment and demonstrating your trust in the other person’s ability to help you.

Wow! Just imagine what we could do with all of that! And it all begins with asking God. Let’s start today!

Dear Jesus, I pray for the person listening right now, and I pray for me. Fill us with Your Holy Spirit for Your great work in us. Cause us to continue asking, desiring more of You and bringing peace to our lives today. Amen

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Discover extra content in the blog post Last Call!!

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It was spring 2014 and I found myself trying to adjust to a new normal, again. My youngest son had been put in foster care the previous fall, taken from my husband due to neglect and abuse. I struggled to navigate the legal system and social services from inside prison walls. Each time I found myself experiencing hope, it would be crushed by a new pain.

I didn’t know it, but this would be the last year I would have contact with my daughter, my husband lashing out in anger to destroy my relationship with her. Are you struggling with co-parenting or worse, parental alienation? This is a difficult episode to share, a difficult episode to listen to, but there is hope! This is another step in my journey towards lasting spiritual growth and transformation. Join me!

TRANSCRIPT

Have you experienced emotional abuse, legal system challenges or parental alienation? Are you hurting and in need of real help?

In 2014 I was three years into my 8 year prison sentence. I would face all of these painful issues and more as I sought to remain connected to my family. Discover with me the secret of peace in any circumstance, and the issues that stand in our way.

While this episode discusses difficult subjects, it points us to real hope for our future. Listen until the end – you won’t want to miss a word. This is Last Call.

“Mommy? Do you still love us?” Vivi’s little voice sang out across the phone lines. It was the summer of 2014. Timmy, under supervision of Child Protective Services, was in foster care. My heart ached as each month new reports from Social Services arrived documenting their life.

“Yes I do, Vivi!” I answered, surprised at her question.

“I thought so,” she mused. “Brian visited and said you didn’t love us anymore, but I thought, ‘That can’t be true, or why would you send me new bracelets you made every week?’”

Brian was Timmy’s social worker. Pride over Vivi’s critical thinking skills was drowned by outrage at Brian. How could any adult tell children their mother doesn’t love them anymore? I was shocked.

“Vivi, I am so proud of you! You are so smart and I love you so much, yes I do. Thank you for asking me that question,” I reassured her. Privately I wondered how to stick it to Brian.

Have you ever been confronted with uncomfortable questions at an unexpected moment? Have you ever wanted to resolve a painful issue but felt unsure how to proceed? Do you struggle with conflict in relationships today?

I’d been incarcerated for 3 years and called my children daily.

“Do you know why I answer the phone for you?” My husband snarled one afternoon. I did not know. We rarely spoke. My husband’s phone was my only connection to our young children. I called and usually they would answer. Occasionally my husband would answer silently, passing the phone over.

I paid for all phone calls, so money was not on his mind. He didn’t wait for my response as he rushed on, “I answer this phone for you because our sons are old enough to remember you. They would be mad at me if I didn’t.” He sucked in a breath. “They want to talk to you,” he spit out angrily.

Eerily his voice dropped, a man finding control. His next question was almost sing song, “But you know what?” This time he waited for my response. Frozen, I didn’t answer. I was almost afraid to. He snickered into the silence. Feeling more powerful he pressed, “Vivi was only 4 years old when you went to prison. Too young to remember you. It’s my mission to make her hate you as much as I do!” His voice had risen in volume as he spoke, ending at a near shout, shaking with hatred.

I listened horrified, disbelieving. He swallowed a hysteric, manic giggle, continuing. “If I can’t make her hate you, I’ll make her forget you completely!!” He erupted into laughter.

My husband was expressing intentional harm, describing a world without gravity, earth without a sun, things that do not happen. I said something stupid, “But that’s wrong!”

Laughter roared out of the phone. “I know! It’s great!” He waited for me to respond. Speechless again I said nothing. A minute then, instantly calm he hissed, “And no one’s going to stop me.” Click.

Prior to incarceration my family attended church together occasionally. I remember one sermon the pastor told this story: “I asked my wife to name something I could do to make her feel more loved. She answered, ‘Say I love you more.’

“For the next year,” the pastor continued, “ I said ‘I love you,’ more often. The following year I asked her again, ‘Name one thing I can do to make you feel more loved.’

She responded again, ‘Say I love you more.’ The pastor finished his story saying “I was flabbergasted! I knew I had already said ‘I love you’ more than she had. Yet she still wanted it more.”

This story stuck with me and I determined to ask my children this question often. They would usually answer with a shrug or a smile, unsure what to ask for. In June 2014 Tim’s answer was specific. Lonely, in foster care 6 months, he replied – “Mom, write me more letters, write me three times a week. Three times a week!”

Tim’s foster care status made phone calls to him more expensive. Now I struggled to afford 2 or 3 calls with him a month. I agonized over this situation. I worked as a janitor and wanted a better paying job but feared failure. I was learning that consequences here for even minor things were serious. Guards joked to each other about subjecting inmates to “shock and awe.”

My parents were sympathetic. They discussed the matter with their church. The end of July my hopes soared. I was offered a more flexible job with slightly better pay and my parent’s church also agreed to help me afford more phone calls with Tim.

Relief and happiness flooded through me as I shared this good news with Tim’s caseworker Brian. I wished to arrange weekly calls with Tim, perhaps twice weekly. I shared how a church was helping me afford the calls to Tim, and I had a better job!

Tim’s foster family responded to my request by immediately terminating all visitation with me. They just stopped answering the phone when I called. Then, they petitioned the court to officially remove my right to visits altogether.

I cannot say why they really did what they did. I’ve learned that “What it is about, is never really what it is about.” I only know what was told to me. I’ve tried very hard in writing my story to include only facts I can personally confirm, and objectively at that. Sometimes we must come to our own conclusions.

The court petition Tim’s foster family initiated described me as a mother who’s had little contact with her son all his life, a dangerous pedophile. My recent request for more frequent phone calls was attributed not to my new financial resources (or my desire to fix the break in our communication that foster care had caused) but attributed it rather to my crime.

I don’t know why I was shocked, but I was shocked. I’d been a stay at home mom, in constant contact with my children even after I entered prison. The court petition sounded more like a bad movie script and included no actual truth. Timmy told me many years later that this was an abusive home, stuffed with foster kids. I cannot confirm. I do know that Tim was almost 12 years old and made to go bed at 5pm. Perhaps they were afraid of what else he’d say if allowed more phone time with me.

I felt I had the necessary evidence to refute these lies. I compiled all of Tim’s letters to me from the past 3 years. I gathered my programming certificates – parenting classes, sex offender treatment, trauma therapy, and I evidenced my daily calls with my kids, including Tim (prior to foster care). I mailed all of this to my attorney and prepared for court.

Court was held without me, however, as my attorney told me the wrong court date. An oversight I’m sure. My attorney also failed to submit any of the documents I’d sent. I was labeled a “no show,” an uninterested parent who “didn’t care.” My attorney apologized later for giving me the wrong court date. My phone visits were suspended until the matter could be resolved.

I continued to call my other children and In November I spoke again with Vivi. “Hi Holly!” Vivi greeted me. One of my favorite things about calling Vivi was her enthusiasm when answering the phone. When she said, “Mooooom!!!” you felt she’d been waiting for you all day. Her gusto felt so good I’d taken a lesson from her and modeled it, greeting my kids with spirit. The use of my name, however, brought me up short. “Why did you call me ‘Holly’?” I asked.

“Dad says you are not my mom anymore,” Vivi responded. “He says Carey is my mom now. I’m supposed to call her mom, not you.” Carey was a woman who’d had an affair with my husband. While they weren’t together anymore, my husband no longer wanted my daughter, either. He’d sent Vivi away to live with Carey full-time. I was not consulted. I did not know Carey, was not allowed her contact information.

Vivianne was now 8 years old. I took a breath and told her, “No, I’m your mom. Call me mom, please.” Sweetly she agreed. That settled I smiled asking if she had received my letters.

“Yes,” she answered slowly, “But dad decided I couldn’t have them. He said they were…” Vivi paused and struggled to remember the word. “He said they were inappropriate. That’s what he said.” She remembered proudly.

Surprised, I was stunned into silence. I could not imagine what for. I searched my mind, found nothing. “Can you remember the reason?” I dared to ask.

“Yes.” Vivi answered, proud to know. “In the letters you called yourself my mom. Dad says that’s disgusting. Dad says you are not a mom. You do not deserve to be a mom. I should not read letters from you. That’s what he said.” Vivi trailed off slowly, suddenly quiet.

I began to cry, utterly shocked. Tears pouring down my face, I couldn’t manage a word. I felt strangled. These days I rarely had the opportunity to talk with Vivianne. She was rarely with my husband, and when she was, he rarely put her on the phone. I missed her so much!

My head began to pound, the room spinning. ‘I should end this call,’ I thought desperately, ‘I’m a wreck!’ I couldn’t leave my daughter. My hand squeezed the phone, fingers bloodless. Sobs ripped out of my throat. I bit my lip, blubbering.

Vivi, hearing my distress, attempted to sooth me. I rambled, trying to calm her, calm myself, make this better. I do not remember what I said, what she said, but Vivi began to cry in sympathy. Suddenly the phone was ripped from her tiny hand and a loud voice screamed in my ear, “What did you say to her! Why did you make her cry!” My husband’s angry voice demanded answers. Then the phone slammed down with a click.

After that my husband refused to let me talk with Vivi and November changed to December, then January rang in the New Year of 2015. Again depression had me in a tight grip. My mental health medications were increased again, so high I developed facial spasms. I slept months away, struggling to perform simple work.

Finally “supervised” visits were established for me and Tim, and phone calls resumed. This involved a designated adult listening to the phone call while Tim and I spoke. As I was in prison, all of my phone calls were recorded by the DOC, so I found this odd. At this point who ISN’T listening to and recording our calls? Tim had now been in foster care for more than 1 year, in his 4th foster home.

I also called my other children regularly, and hoped to speak to Vivi again. In February my husband said he would allow me to apologize to her. I was in fact sorry for upsetting her. I was sorry for so many things. Vivi agreed to talk with me and came to the phone. Carefully I started the conversation. I felt like I was blind navigating a mine field. It seemed ok. She sounded fine. Perhaps she was fine. Maybe it was ok.

I don’t know for sure. That was the last time I spoke with Vivi. I didn’t know that then. My understanding was that we would talk again soon. I asked for her whenever I called. In May I learned the truth.

“She’s not here,” my husband spat gleefully. “Even if she was, I’d wouldn’t put her on the phone. You’ll never talk to her again! She hates you.”

Confused, I didn’t answer. This felt like a trick. I wondered what to say.

Power making him feel generous he spoke into the silence, “I guess you can continue to write letters.” Fog lifted, I almost argued. I’d been so depressed I had written the kids less often lately. In fact I hadn’t written in awhile. Guilt slammed into me as he continued, “I can’t STOP you from writing letters, I suppose. Do whatever you want.”

Lights flashed in my head. Something clicked. I realized the truth of his words, this man turned unwitting prophet. That’s right, he can’t stop me! I am responsible for my actions, not his response. If I want to communicate, I will. I did.

I began writing to Vivi every week, making copies of every letter. I kept one, mailed one. I did that every week for the next 5 years.

Determination settled in. I’d passed the halfway mark of my incarceration – four years down. Amazing things were coming. I had no idea.

Dear Listener, This episode delves into challenging topics, including emotional abuse, manipulation, legal system hurdles, and parental alienation. Throughout 2014 and 2015, I grappled with finding balance and clarity amidst these struggles. Perhaps you are too.

Let me ask you a question: Do you truly grasp the concept of eternal life? Previously, I might have defined it simply as immortality or perpetual existence. However, Scripture reveals that every human being will endure for eternity, either in hell or in heaven—our eternal destination is certain.

John’s words in I John 5:13 shed light on the essence of eternal life: “God gave us eternal life, and this life is in His Son.” Jesus further elucidates in John 17:3:

“And this is eternal life: [it means] to know (to perceive, recognize, become acquainted with, and understand) You, the only true and real God, and [likewise] to know Him, Jesus [as the] Christ (the Anointed One, the Messiah), Whom You have sent.”

Understanding, learning, and comprehending all come through the mind, as Paul explains in Romans 8:6:

“Now the mind of the flesh [which is sense and reason without the Holy Spirit] is death [death that comprises all the miseries arising from sin, both here and hereafter]. But the mind of the [Holy] Spirit is life and [soul] peace [both now and forever].”

Eternal life is not solely a future state after physical death; it begins with spiritual birth. Jesus emphasized this truth to Nicodemus in John 3:

“Jesus answered him, ‘I assure you, most solemnly I tell you, that unless a person is born again (anew, from above), he cannot ever see (know, be acquainted with, and experience) the kingdom of God.'”

Nicodemus, puzzled, questioned the logistics, prompting Jesus to clarify: “What is born of [from] the flesh is flesh [of the physical is physical]; and what is born of the Spirit is spirit. Marvel not [do not be surprised, astonished] at My telling you, You must all be born anew (from above).”

How does this rebirth occur? Jesus reveals the path in John 3:16:

“For God so greatly loved and dearly prized the world that He [even] gave up His only begotten (unique) Son, so that whoever believes in (trusts in, clings to, relies on) Him shall not perish (come to destruction, or be lost) but have eternal life.”

Ultimately, the journey towards resolution begins within our own hearts and minds. Salvation is the key, as it grants us the spiritual life we desperately need.

Dear Jesus, I pray for the person listening right now, and I pray for me – help us to more fully understand our need for You. Show us the life that starts with You, and deepen our relationship with You today. Amen

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CREDITS:

Read the blog post for more content – Unintended Idle, Agency and Dehumanization!!

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In November 2013, my world was shattered when I received the gut-wrenching news that my youngest son, Tim, had been rushed to the hospital for emergency surgery. I wasn’t by his side to offer comfort and support. No, I was locked away in prison, grappling with the overwhelming weight of emotional turmoil and isolation.

I share emotional struggles I faced, from the agonizing wait for updates about Tim’s condition to the crushing weight of depression and loneliness that permeates every aspect of life behind bars.

I discuss de-humanization and powerlessness and correlation it has on emotional wellness. Are you suffering from anxiety and stress? Do you have trust issues? I understand. Learn the secret of trust and discover steps you can take to begin healing today.

TRANSCRIPT:

Do you suffer from stress and anxiety? Have circumstances left you worried or scared?

Join me on my journey through the prison system, where information is scarce, decisions are dictated, and agency is stripped away. From frightening news to the dehumanizing effects of prison, discover with me the secret of real power.

I’ll reveal the secret of trust and steps toward peace you can take today. Listen until the end – you don’t want to miss a word.

It is November 2013 – Prison staff retrieved and delivered me to my caseworker. Social Services in Washington state had called. My youngest son Tim, aged 11, was in hospital for emergency surgery. Scared, I had many questions. My caseworker had no information. It would be many days before I received an update.

I entered prison with a strong sense of self-efficacy, which, according to the article Self-Efficacy: The Foundation of Agency, means believing in your own ability to plan and carry out actions needed to achieve certain goals. If people don’t think they can make a difference through their actions, they’re not likely to even try. So, believing in your effectiveness is the basis for taking action.

I sought information and knowledge as keys to strategic decision making. Prison starves one of information. I’d now suffered data deficit for years.

Are you in the middle of a challenging circumstance? Do you or a loved one have difficult decisions to make? How important is good information to your decision making?

Prison, a small town, is designed holistically for lifelong care. Onsite can be found library, chapel, gym, clinic, education, cafeteria, job sites, and more. I had a daily work schedule, planning my day around it. Prison sabotages daily agency – daily plans, too.

Appointments made for an inmate outside their work schedule are not usually told in advance to an inmate, in order to prevent the their ability to future plan. Future plan for what I have no idea. At first I found that odd. It is odd, dehumanizing.

According to the research article The Impact of Power on Humanity: Self-Dehumanization in Powerlessness, “Power allows people to control outcomes with respect to both the environment and the self. This control is considered to be a fundamental human need; therefore, it follows that powerlessness will disrupt an individual’s sense of humanity…

Daily interactions in an unequal relationship appear sufficient to cause us to see ourselves as less human. As the ability to make choices, have freedom, and be able to think in different ways are all qualities thought to be central to human nature, powerlessness lead us to feel we are losing these essential qualities.

In prison, a dizzying array of the unexpected always left me feeling inhibited, ungrounded. Failure to appear somewhere in the prison on time was a reason to receive discipline, yet advance notice of an appointment or event was rarely provided to me. I felt constantly tense, threatened with the unknown and unknowable. It was at this time that I was threatened with seg again.

One morning my name appeared on the roster for a 1pm Property appointment. I also started work at 1pm. Unsure where I should go first I asked for help. Guards and staff offered me no solution.

Chaos reigned here but Punishment ruled. Everyone’s best guess – go to Property first; so I did.

I made a mistake, however, when I signed out, and a recent inmate escape attempt made this worse for me as it had staff on edge. At the time Shakopee prison had no fence. A recent arrival had raced past a guard into neighboring properties. The guard didn’t chase, rolling her eyes as she hit the alarm. Guards quickly found the inmate, hiding in nearby bushes, and she was given an additional 5 years to serve.

A week later I now leaned against the wall across from Property, mentally urging the shuttered window up so I could hurry to work. I’d fast-walked it, a ridiculous hustle – arms straight, elbows locked, legs churning. We were never allowed to run nor jog (it might give the impression of an escape attempt). I was first in line.

Without a fence Shakopee managed inmate locations using sign-out books and locked buildings. Hourly, buildings opened, people moved here and there, then buildings closed. Work sites reported in, sign-out books were reviewed.

 I’d signed out to go to work as usual at 1pm, however at Property, not work, I waited. This was my mistake, not indicating my stop at Property in the sign out book. After the buildings closed, my worksite reported in without me and I was officially missing.

Just then Property opened for business and alarms ripped across the campus. Bundled in my winter coat, holding an armful of books I sighed. ‘Great, a delay,’ I thought. I had no idea. Radios squawked to life across the counter. “We have a missing inmate. AHO. I repeat, missing inmate. AHO.”

Surprised, I pushed off the wall and spoke into the chaos. “I’m Aho.” No one noticed. I cleared my throat and repeated louder, “I’m Aho. I’m right here!” Heads whipped up. Behind the counter an older guard slapped her hand on the counter and spat at me, “Where’s your ID badge?”

It was pinned to my shirt, trapped under layers of winter clothing. Shifting books in my arms I struggled to reach for it. My coat zipper caught and my books slipped to the floor with a crash. Pounding the counter the guard demanded, “WHERE’S YOUR ID BADGE!!”

Stunned I froze. Time stopped, and everyone held their breath. With shaking hands I stepped to the counter, freeing my badge with a snap. “Here,” I said, placing it before her.

Jerking the card to her nose, she squinted. “Next time a guard asks you to do something, you don’t ignore it! Understand?” She growled. “You do it!” she snarled. She peered over her glasses at me, scowling.

Suddenly more guards swooped in, grabbing me by my elbows and lifting me off my feet. Quickly my pockets were searched, turned inside out, and I was yanked down the hallway to a holding room. Tossed inside, a metal door clanged behind me.

Left alone I shuffled to the metal bunk and sat. I studied the block wall. Somehow graffiti was on it. I read it. Words were scratched into the paint of the bunk. I read that too. I laid down and cried.

I lay there for hours. Sometimes a guard would come, peaking through the small square window in the door. I ignored them. Once a guard came to taunt me. “I heard you had a real bad attitude at the Property window! Gave the guards there a real hard time!” I didn’t know how to respond so I didn’t. I cried harder.

Eventually released I was sent to my room and given DLOPs for being in an unauthorized area. I felt wrung out.

Timmy recovered and from hospital he was placed in foster care. Feeling anxious and overwhelmed my depression came back and I began missing work at the gym. I was fired in December and placed on UI. I would spend the next 3 months locked in my room 21 hours a day.

UI means unemployed. Warehoused. I had little money. Didn’t matter, I lacked opportunity to make calls. And while Tim remained in foster care I’d been forgotten as his parent. While I’d been assigned a Washington state public attorney, no effort had been made to contact me.

Finally in February I risked asking a guard if I may call my attorney. He said yes and I did. “Yes?” she answered, surprised to be hearing from me.

“Hi,” I responded. “I have not received any news about my son since last November, and now it is February. I was told he had emergency surgery and then went into foster care. You are my attorney? How is he? When can I speak to him? How do I contact my son?”

Surprise leaked out of her voice as she answered, “No one has contacted you?”

It was my turn to be surprised. Who would contact me? What should I expect? “No, no one,” I threw back. “What is going on?”

“You have a right to visit your son, which in your case would be by phone. You have a right to all information and reports about him as well. I’m surprised no one has contacted you before now,” she rejoined.

I thought but did not say, ‘Why didn’t you contact me, aid me in acquiring my rights?’ Instead I asked, “How can we start that process? Let’s get that done now, please.”

Soon phone calls were arranged around my limited UI schedule, made more challenging by a 2 hour time difference. I looked forward to receiving a job again so I could be more available. Also upsetting was a sudden price hike to call Tim, from 50 cents to $5 for a fifteen minute call.

Torn in many directions, I struggled to support all of my children emotionally best I could. I switched to writing more letters and calling less often. I also began selling jewelry and sketches for money.

Social services reports began arriving from Washington. Horrible reports. Crushing. Painful to read, they were also outrageous. Prison shakedowns, raids, riots and lockdowns could prevent me from making a scheduled phone visit with my son bu failure on my part to call Tim for any reason would be written up by Tim’s caseworker as “a refusal on Ms. Aho’s part, an uncaring mother, to visit her son.” Often I cried in my room during a prison lockdown just feet from the phone during a scheduled visit, unable to call. I raged against these lies and mischaracterizations. I grew to hate Social Services.

The article The Impact of Power on Humanity also tells us that:

When people compare themselves to what they think is important, it can affect how they see themselves as human beings. Human nature traits are qualities really fundamental to being human, like empathy and emotions, and they come out when we interact with others. If someone feels like they’re being treated as an object, it can affect their sense of self and cause them to emotionally shut down. These people may report a range of emotional issues such as emotional numbing.

This was happening to me. I became increasingly withdrawn, disconnected and numb. I lay in my room for hours, locked in. My weight increased to 190 pounds on my 5 foot frame. I hated life, myself.

In March 2014 I was assigned a job in maintenance. I had nearly 2 years to go before I would experience hope.

⁹ Men of low degree [in the social scale] are emptiness (futility, a breath) and men of high degree [in the same scale] are a lie and a delusion. In the balances they go up; they are together lighter than a breath. ¹⁰ Trust not in and rely confidently not on extortion and oppression, and do not vainly hope in robbery; if riches increase, set not your heart on them. ¹¹ God has spoken once, twice have I heard this: that power belongs to God. Psalm 62:9-11

Listener, are you worried or anxious about something today? Many things? I understand. Jesus said in Matthew chapter 6:

“Therefore do not worry and be anxious, saying, What are we going to have to eat? or, What are we going to have to drink? or, What are we going to have to wear?…

But seek (aim at and strive after) first of all His kingdom and His righteousness (His way of doing and being right), and then all these things taken together will be given you besides.” Matthew 6:31,33

I didn’t want to be anxious; I wanted to be taken care of, so I was eager to understand what Jesus said here. I wondered, ‘What does Jesus mean by “His kingdom”?’ Since Jesus listed it as the first thing to seek, it must be very important!

Have you ever heard of ‘Where’s Waldo?’ a look and find puzzle? Waldo, wearing a distinctive outfit, is placed in a busy picture for the viewer to find. This would be an impossible puzzle if you had the wrong idea of who or even what Waldo was.

So let’s talk about a kingdom. A kingdom is basically a sphere of influence, an area of power.  It can be a place to live, like a country, or invisible, like social media influencers, whose own kingdoms would be their followings on Facebook or Tiktok.

God created everything, and everything is His, however Jesus said something very interesting about the focus of His kingdom:

Jesus answered, My kingdom belongs not to this world. If My kingdom were of this world, My followers would have been fighting to keep Me from being handed over to the Jews. But as it is, My kingdom is not from here (this world); [it has no such origin or source]. John 18:36

Where is it then, what is it? Did you know that the word ‘heart’ is mentioned more than 800 times in the Bible? It is. God says “I am the Lord,” about 150 times in the Bible. That makes a heart emphasized 5 times as much. So what is meant by a heart?

The Hebrew word for heart is Lebab, and it means inner man, mind or will. So what is Jesus saying then in Matthew 6? Let’s read it again with this in mind:

But seek (aim at and strive after) first of all His sphere of influence in the mind, will, and spirit, and His righteousness (His way of doing and being right)…

Listener, This begins in your own heart, His sphere of influence over you. Does He have any influence over you? How much? And how well do you know His ways of doing and being right?

If your answer is, “not enough,” you are not alone. We are born rebellious to Him, His ways unnatural to us. Paul says in Romans

“No one is righteous, no, not one…

All have turned aside; together they have gone wrong; no one does right, not even one!” Romans 3:10,12

This is why Jesus urges us to seek out His ways of doing and being right, to seek out His influence, to ask Him to be Lord – really be Lord  – of our hearts.

Jesus asks us, “Why do you call me, ‘Lord, Lord,’ and do not do what I say?” Luke 6:46

When we are king of our own hearts, we have reason to worry. We have seen our results, and know our limits. God says in Proverbs “Trust in the Lord with all your heart and lean not on your own understanding; in all your ways submit to him, and he will make your paths straight.” Proverbs 3:5-6

The secret to trust, however is that there cannot be any given without first taking a risk. They are inextricably intertwined. It’s the risk taken, and safe landing after, that creates trust. Otherwise trust is just an idea never followed through.

Have you trusted in Jesus today? Have you taken that risk? Have you followed through with trusting God? I do not know your situation, but God does, and He tells us how to begin. Philippians chapter 4 says:

“Do not fret or have any anxiety about anything, but in every circumstance and in everything, by prayer and petition (definite requests), with thanksgiving, continue to make your wants known to God.

⁷ And God’s peace [shall be yours, that tranquil state of a soul assured of its salvation through Christ, and so fearing nothing from God and being content with its earthly lot of whatever sort that is, that peace] which transcends all understanding shall garrison and mount guard over your hearts and minds in Christ Jesus.” Philippians 4:6-7

So listener, In every circumstance, in everything, with definite requests and prayer – with thanksgiving, continue to make your wants known to God. And then God’s peace shall be yours. Wonderful! Let’s start today!

Dear Jesus, I pray for the person listening right now, and I pray for me, help us to seek You and desire Your influence in our hearts. Teach us your ways of doing and being right, remind us to pray and thank you in everything. Amen

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Discover extra content in the blog post Sex Offender (SO) Treatment!!

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During my prison experience in 2012, I initially resisted a sex offender treatment program, feeling misunderstood and defensive. Embracing change, I pursued a new job and healthy lifestyle, losing weight and feeling better.

I share difficult experiences such as a misunderstanding in jail, and I describe parenting from behind bars and my joyful reunion with my children after a year and a half.

I discuss my difficult journey in personal growth and relapse into deeper depression. Are you working towards change today? Are you fearful it won’t ‘stick?’ Learn the difference between behavior modification and permanent life transformation and how you can start today.

TRANSCRIPT

Are you interested in extraordinary personal growth? Do you want to feel great and live a transformed life?

Join me as we explore my prison experience, navigating a sex offender treatment program, a new job, and newfound opportunities. Discover unexpected moments of hope and profound lessons learned along the way.

From resistance to redemption, we’ll uncover the secret to permanent total life transformation and how you can begin today! Listen until the end, you won’t want to miss a word! This is sex offender treatment.

Told sex offender treatment would remove barriers and open doors to privileges, I nevertheless began in December 2012 with an attitude problem. I’d asked repeatedly over the past year to be admitted to the program as early as possible, yet now that I was here, I felt vulnerable.

Intake began with hours of psychological testing, both written and interviewed. Afterwards I sulked in the treatment director’s office, arms crossed, sullen. Noticing my posture she pointed out, “You look upset.”

Miserable, I explained, “I don’t understand why I need sex offender treatment. This is stupid. I am NOT a pedophile!” Having voiced my concern, I glared at the wall. My face burned. I felt hostile, defensive. I was ready to do anything necessary to remove barriers for myself as a parent, but I was outraged at the requirements.

The director leaned over and responded, “We don’t think you are a pedophile. That’s not the purpose of the treatment.”

Surprised, I removed my glare from the wall and shifted my gaze to her desk, considering. My thoughts returned to a time nearly 3 years earlier. Recently arrested, I sat in county jail waiting for bail to be posted. One day I was told a psychologist was there to interview me for sentencing recommendations.

“Ms. Aho, you have a professional visit. Come with me.” Sitting at a table I looked up in surprise. The guard nodded and pointed at the door. I turned to follow her gaze. Another guard waited outside the red door, his face visible through the window.

I stood, smoothed my shirt, and walked to the entrance of the pod. The door clicked open, and I joined the guard in the hall. We headed for a small legal visiting room. As we neared, I could see a woman waiting for me inside. A metal table sat in the middle of the small room.

The door clicked open, and I was led inside. I studied the woman as I sat. She was medium everything, medium size, medium coloring, medium age. She didn’t smile as the guard left us alone, the door clicking behind him.

Nervously I looked around and waited. I began to feel shaky, anxiety tightening my stomach up. The woman coughed and introduced herself, “I am here to ask you some questions, a psych evaluation,” she explained.

I nodded slightly, wondering. The woman picked up a notepad from the table, clutching it in her arms. She studied it a moment. Waiting, my ankle suddenly itched. Mumbling, “Excuse me,” I leaned forward to scratch my leg. Startled, the woman jumped backwards, away from me in fear, staring at my hand.

I am a small person, a mere 5 feet tall, 120 pounds. My crime included no violence, no weapons, no drugs, no addictions, nothing that would indicate a surprise physical attack from me might be likely. Bent forward, my hand still halfway to my ankle, I paused in surprise. Her fear scared me.

I peered up at her questioningly, my eyebrow arched. Frozen, she stared at my hand and didn’t notice. She looked terrified.

I finished scratching my ankle and sat back. I wanted to leave this room. This lady scared me. It seemed she had my psych eval already completed, some conclusions already formed. We hadn’t yet started but it couldn’t end well.

Returning to the present day, I studied our treatment director, my hostility returning. I demanded, “What am I here for then?”

Leaning back in her chair, she crossed her legs and responded, “Let me ask you a question. Why did you have sex with your son’s friend?”

“My marriage was awful. I hated my life. I wanted a divorce. I wanted…to run away from all my problems.” Embarrassed, I turned away, fusing my stare to the floor in shame.

Leaning forward again the director asked, “I wonder then, why did you use sex to solve a problem?” Surprised, I met her eyes. She appeared kind and respectful. It was a good question. My resistance slipped, a little.

Have you ever felt resistant to acknowledging personal challenges or seeking support? Does this resonate with any moments in your own life when you felt vulnerable or avoided asking for help?

Early in my incarceration I was told the prison had a step-down process for receiving visiting privileges if you were an inmate deemed a possible threat. Visiting privileges were assessed, from no visits to all privileges.

The visiting room at Shakopee is welcoming, with carpeting and toys and books for children. Blue chairs in rows face each other and march across the carpet. Tall windows to the outdoors bookend the room.  Smaller windows line a third wall, facing small rooms where non-contact visits, visits behind glass, occur.

My criminal charge placed me on the list awaiting assessment when I arrived. Thankfully I was allowed visits with my children, however the visits would be behind glass. To increase my privileges, I could take parenting classes and complete SO Treatment.

By this time My four younger children were now living 3,000 miles away from me and hadn’t visited in over a year, ever since my husband had kidnapped them from my parents. We spoke on the phone, and shared letters and emails but I missed seeing them, hugging them.

 I didn’t know when I’d ever see them again, but I planned to be prepared for that day. I completed parenting classes immediately and now treatment provided the next goal, a finish line. I attacked it.

This clear motivation focused me. I had spent the last half of 2012 in a fog of depression, gaining extra weight and feeling unhealthy. I began going to the gym, working out a little, easing into feeling better.

“Have you thought of getting a job in here?” Laying on my back I twisted, looking around. Kelly was heading across the nearly empty gym, making her way over to me. Not waiting for an answer she continued, “We need another worker in here, Linda just went home.”

Kelly, while not exactly a friend, was a familiar face. She loved the gym, worked there. I considered her question. I’d just reached top pay in the kitchen, despite my poor attendance record. They gave you a raise no matter what. If you were not being fired, you were moving up.

Switching jobs would mean dropping back down to base pay, being poor, more poor, again. I did want to be thin again, though, and working at the gym would mean constant access.

“I’d like that,” I replied, excitement building. Kelly smiled. Without missing a step she pivoted, heading for the gym office. “I’ll tell my boss. He’ll get you transferred.”

Kelly wasn’t kidding. I applied formally for the job, but I was transferred before that paperwork even hit the mailbox. It felt good to be wanted and I eagerly attacked the new job and lifestyle. I became a gym rat. Working out became a passion. I ran, lifted weights, and sweated. I felt good, looked good.

“We’re going on vacation to Washington,” my mom told me over the phone one evening. “Your husband has agreed to let us see the grandkids, so we are going to spend a week with them.” It was April, and the news stirred many emotions in me.

It had been over a year since I’d seen my children, and pictures were rare. During my 8 years of incarceration there were times I went so long without pictures of my children, that when photos finally arrived, I didn’t recognize them at all.

In my mind my children remained the ages I left them. In life they aged. On the phone their voices changed a lot. Sometimes years passed without a picture and then – and then I didn’t recognize their sweet faces. I’d stare and stare at photos, feeling distance and sadness. It was horrifying. As this had already begun to happen, I was desperate to stop it. Desperation in an already unhealthy person can lead to worse behavior.

“I want to see them!” I stammered. My mind began racing, worrying. “I want to see them, too!” I reiterated more forcefully.

“What do you mean?” My mom asked slowly, thinking. I didn’t know what I meant but my mind was screaming.

“What if we never get this opportunity again? He is unstable! I want to see them too. Can’t you bring the kids here to Minnesota?” I pleaded. I was not very gracious, probably crying. I knew it sounded unreasonable, difficult. I couldn’t imagine not asking.

My parents agreed. What an amazing gift! How very generous of them despite my not so gentle request. Arriving in June, my children would enjoy an old-fashioned family road-trip with my parents that summer. I think about that now. What a sacrifice! Amazing!

I became laser focused. I wanted to acquire full visiting privileges so I could hug my children! I completed treatment at the beginning of June and immediately appealed to visiting. WITH URGENCY!! My children would be here in less than a week. I was used to disappointment. I was so determined! I barely slept, barely ate. Agitated, I paced all night. I imagined great visits, feared the worst.

The day before my children arrived two wonderful things happened. The first was a prison-wide visiting room rule change that increased freedoms for everyone having a visit with a child. Rules currently prevented children over age 5 sitting next to their parent. Kids 6 years and older had to visit as if they were an adult, not allowed to touch their mom in any way except for a hug at the start of the visit. The rule change lifted this age limit to 10.

Later at work, my caseworker and a Lieutenant appeared at the gym. Wiping down workout equipment I looked up to see them at the door. Both waved at me, both had big smiles. I set down my towel and walked over to them. Their smiles grew.

My caseworker held a sheet of paper. She looked down at it, then passed it to me. “Your visiting privileges have been increased, congratulations!” She beamed. “You have worked very hard for this; we are very excited for you!” She finished.

The lieutenant nodded his agreement, added his own approval. I took the paper; afraid it might disappear. It was my appeal form, successfully won. I was being granted normal visits with my children. I cheered with joy! I floated to my room after work to tell my family the great news. We would be visiting in person!

The next few days were a dream. I spent hours and hours in the visiting room. Allowed 3-hour visits due to the distance in travel, we spent 3 hours each day Sat, Sun, Weds, Thurs, Fri, and again one more time on the final Saturday together.

 My daughter Vivi, now 6 years old, colored pictures for me while we talked. Along the wall were children’s books. Vivi loved books. She always asked me to read to her. After 2 years without her, the first book held a surprise for me.

Lifting her onto my lap I opened a book and began to read to her. On the third page something unexpected happened, perhaps unanticipated by me because we had been apart so long. I had forgotten the little details of parenting. The reminder was a surprise and delight to me.

Vivi, like all children soothed by a good book, did a trust fall. My arms were wrapped around her as I read, but suddenly all her weight sagged against me, and my arms were barely prepared to absorb her collapse. Her head also dropped, resting on my shoulder. I stuttered, stopped reading, staring at the top of her head, wondering. Vivi seemed unaware of my surprise, didn’t notice I’d stopped. She breathed deeply and waited. Tightening my hold, I resumed reading, my throat tightening.

Then there was my youngest son Timmy, who hated leaving. Age 10, he appeared small and fragile. Timmy had a medical condition requiring daily treatment and care. Left untreated, or poorly treated, Timmy suffered painfully. Timmy was suffering quietly now. He wanted rescue, needed comfort. I wished to save the day but was no hero. I lacked the maturity, the ability.

Thomas and Lukas, Timmy’s older brothers, were 12 and 14. Thomas is a social butterfly, very charismatic. While he visited, he joked with the guards, strolling around like he owned the place. Lukas supervised his brother with a lordly smile and plenty of eye rolling. We enjoyed puzzles together as we talked and shared.

Thomas and Lukas did struggle to understand why their younger siblings could take pictures with mom like old times, arms around shoulders, smiling, while they were not allowed to do so. Forced to behave as adult visitors, pictures included “visible distance” between me and them “for safety and security.”

The week passed quickly. Soon it was over. My heart was soothed, it sang. Yet I felt heartbroken at its end. I hoped another visit might happen again soon. I didn’t know if I would ever see them again while I was in prison.

Horror returned four months later. I received news that Timmy was in the hospital receiving lifesaving surgery. Succumbing to fear and depression, I lost my job. My weight increased again, this time to 190 pounds on my 5-foot frame.

I would never have another visit with my 4 younger children while I was in prison, and to date that is the last time I ever saw my daughter.

I treasure that week, but life would return to a living hell again.

Listener, Are you in a difficult situation? Are you looking for hope, real change? Have you worked in the past only to fail again, relapse again, even worse than before?

Jesus said in Luke 11,

“When the unclean spirit comes out of a person, it roams through desert places in search of rest, ^{some unsuspecting soul}; and not finding any, it says, ‘I will go back to my house (the person) from which I came.’ ²⁵ And when it comes, it finds the place swept and put in order. ²⁶ Then it goes and brings seven other spirits more evil than itself, and they go in [ to the person] and live there; and the last state of that person becomes worse than the first.”

Notice that when the person is swept up and put in order, they are also vacant, empty. This means there is no one home who is stronger than the evil spirit and his friends. Might as well be no one home at all!  

Jesus continued to say in Luke 11

When a strong man, fully armed, guards his own palace, his goods are safe; ²² but when one stronger than he attacks him and overcomes him, he takes away his armor in which he trusted and divides his spoil. ²³ Whoever is not with me is against me

Does this resonate with you? Do you feel weak in the face of your addiction, anger, instability, and worse? Have you cleaned yourself up in the past only to end up far worse later? Are you scared it might happen even now?

I understand. Jesus provides the solution to confident, permanent total life transformation. He says in John 15:

Dwell in me, and I will dwell in you…however cut off from vital union with me you can do nothing.

Jesus is the strong Man. So how can this help you today? Jesus explained before he went to heaven:

because I live, you will live also.

²⁰ At that time you will know [for yourselves] that I am in My Father, and you [are] in Me, and I [am] in you.

Jesus explains how that happens and how we know as he continues:

²¹ The person who has My commands and keeps them is the one who [really] loves Me; and whoever [really] loves Me will be loved by My Father, and I [too] will love him and will show and reveal Myself to him. [I will let Myself be clearly seen by him and make Myself real to him.]

We know that a small child in the first year of school knows little compared to a graduate student. Both will make mistakes, both will progress. Learning is a process and has many moving parts.

Knowing God, obeying God, is like that. God says in

Psalm 37

The steps of a [good] man are directed and established by the Lord when the Lord delights in his way and busies Himself with his every step.

²⁴ Though he falls, he shall not be utterly cast down, for the Lord grasps his hand in support and upholds him.

How can we apply these things to our lives today to live confidently, fearlessly, boldly? The most important step is to admit your need your need for a strong man in your ‘house’, your need for Jesus. Then ask Jesus to be that strong man. Jesus says again in Luke 11

how much more will your heavenly Father give the Holy Spirit to those who ask and continue to ask Him!

It would be many years for me before I learned this lesson and peace arrived, but as I wrote this podcast episode my son Tim sat happily with me in my office, now a healthy adult. All of my boys are doing well. God is writing your story too. I am praying for you. He has great plans for us!

Dear Jesus, I pray for the person listening right now, and I pray for me, that you would be our strength, our strong savior. Protect us, transform us. Make us bold. Amen

Discover extra content in the blog post – No Pie & 6 Months No Shower!!

<< List of Episodes >>

In 2012 I began my second year in prison. Facing another 7 years behind bars I wrestled with clinical depression as I struggled to maintain contact with my children while working a prison job. My oldest son, meanwhile, joined the Army and headed to boot camp, from where he sent frequent letters to me.

I discuss serious depression and its effects, with complete transparency including my inability to even shower for nearly 6 months. I share the joy of parenting, even in a difficult situation and the importance of family connections. Are you struggling with serious depression? Are you a parent looking for support? You’ll find steps you can begin today to feel connected to your children in every situation.

TRANSCRIPT:

Are you parenting in a difficult situation? Do you need solutions and strength?  

Join me on my journey through prison as I learn being mom despite distance and incarceration. From daily challenges to pride as I follow my son on his own journey through the Army, discover with me the secret to powerful parenting in any circumstance.

Learn steps you can begin today! Listen until the end, you won’t want to miss a word. This is no pie and 6 months no shower.

It was January 2012 and I worked in General Assembly inspecting gaskets at base pay, 50 cents an hour. PIE work, given out on seniority, paid $4-$6 per hour. I set my sights on top pay and planned. I didn’t have long to wait.

One afternoon prison guards entered, strolled through the room and halted at a nearby desk. A co-worker doing PIE work peered up in surprise. I held my breath and waited. I was next in line for PIE work. All that stood in my way were the current employees doing the work. My hopes soared! Could this be the day coming sooner than I expected?

“Stand up,” they told her. My co-worker set down her work, resignation on her face. As she stood a guard clicked handcuffs on her wrists. The room, quiet before was now dead silent. All eyes watched the drama. Work was boring and this was something to talk about.

The guards led my co-worker out of the room and off to seg. Boy was I happy – delighted! I hoped she never came back! Thank God for the police! God, however, was about to teach me a lesson about rejoicing at another’s bad day.

The next day I came to work, eager to start earning top dollar for the first time. I was already spending future paychecks on imaginary canteen. Clenching three boxes of work, my boss left his office and made a path towards my desk. Humming happily I watched him as he dropped the boxes on my desk.

As he arranged the work in front of me, a phone began ringing behind him in his office. “Excuse me,” he mumbled, shuffling off to answer it. I stared at the work on my desk and waited, toes tapping, still shopping in my head.

A few minutes later he returned and began scooping the boxes back up. Confused, I watched as he removed the boxes he’d delivered only minutes ago. Reading my expression he announced, “I’m sorry. Our vendor just called and cancelled the PIE work contract. Please continue your regular work instead.” Lurching back to his office, he stopped to pitch my dreams in the trash by the door.

shocked, my head felt wooden. I could not believe that had just happened. What are the odds of that timing? It felt like a cruel joke.  Next I thought, What are my options? I quickly discovered the other half of General Assembly still earned PIE work.

I immediately requested a transfer. I felt it couldn’t happen fast enough. Transfer granted, I worked to learn this new job so I could do well. It was a weird job and I just wanted to understand expectations of me and how to do well so I could earn the most money possible. Praise was also welcome.

March 19^th, 2012
email subject: we got the box

Email From: Tommy
Message: Hi Mom we got the box you sent us it’s really nice I love love my hat and ring the ring fits perfect and so does the hat I sent you a picture with me wearing the hat. I hope you like it. Vivi thought the ring was hers so good thing I got it first. Vivi loves the purse you sent her and I painted my rocket for camp casey navy blue. I will take a picture of that too and sent it to you. Tim likes his had too. I like the inside and I love you too.
Love Tommy

Struggling with depression, stability remained a challenge for me. Forty hours a week – bankers hours – an impossible task for me to perform consistantly. We were all permitted one day off a month, and I always took it. sometimes, ok usually, I risked an extra day. Due to my attendance record I was never given a raise.

As a result of my skill on the job, I was given the most difficult assignments. As I became a highly skilled technician I was refused PIE work, which required no skills. Here again I became frustrated beyond all measure – I was capable of great skill, and yet too depressed to show up reliably.

April 2^nd 2012

Email subject: camp casey

Email From: Tommy
message: I went to camp casey on Monday I got back Wednesday camp was great….we took a tour of the town a crow tried to poop on the tour guide. All the buildings had false roofs, they still do because they want the old buildings to match the new buildings…Oh and guess what (I would make you guess but I can’t hear you) the docks got so crowded….Then I went to the candy shop. The best of course. I bought so much candy but had 5 dollars left. …I looked in the gift shop..there were swords in there, pirate flags and shirts it was cool….

The previous fall my oldest son Noel, just after his 17^th birthday, had joined the Army Reserves. This summer, the summer before his senior year of high school, he headed to boot camp. Noel began to write me letters soon after his arrival.

Angry with my boss I became outraged and demanded PIE work. My boss refused. I decided to find a new job. I applied for 1 job, 2 jobs, 5 jobs, and waited.

 Noel’s letters, carried with him in his pockets over long marches and difficult exercises, often torn, worn, and sweat stained, started to arrive.

July 2^nd

“Hey mom sorry I haven’t written the first 4 days we weren’t allowed to send mail out because it was reception. I’m writing this during my fireguard shift. I’m pretty happy to be finally able to write to you!…Nothing very eventful has happened here at basic besides, pushups, screaming and classroom time…I think about home. Here you start to miss even dumb stuff like nickelodeon and oreos, even just sleeping more than 5-7 hours, but I still do my best to push on…the food here is pretty good too but we usually have like 1 minute to eat it. Well my fireguard shift is over, so I have to wake up the next fireguards. I love you and miss you so much! I’m going to see you the first day I get back!”

July 4th, 2012

 “Hi mom! How’s it going? I’m writing this during my 1^st personal time. Today is the 4th of July and god bless America! We haven’t done anything today! We’ve even got to eat everything on our tray! It’s been great! …I’ve also been really homesick today, though, but I think that’s because we’ve had so much time to think about home….I hope to get a letter from you soon. It sucks, as I’m sure you know, to see everyone getting letters and you don’t get aNY. …I love you so much! I miss you! Please write often! Love you! Xoxoxo”

Waiting for a new job, feeling denied a transfer, my anger began spiraling out of control. Spitefully Demanding a job change, I applied to the kitchen, rumored the worst job and always available. I was about to spiral into the depths of depression, again. Transfer was finally granted.

July 5TH 2012

“Hey Mom how are you? Today it’s been a good day mostly, I’ll be spending the night in the woods tomorrow!….could you save my letters? I want to reread them later on, thanks! I love you and hope you have a great day!”

July 6^th

“Hey mom how are you! …we had to name our m16a2’s today I named mine after you. …I don’t remember if I put this in the last letter, but I’ve learned to shave with a razor! It’s fun to think that soon after I graduate [bootcamp] I will be able to have a contact visit with you by myself! I can’t wait for that day!… I’m excited to get my first letter from you, hopefully that will be soon!…I will write you tomorrow, I love and miss you sooo much!”

Working in the kitchen, I had never been so poor in all my life. I began my job in the kitchen $15 in debt for a package I’d mailed to the kids. I received no pay at all for more than a month, then began receiving a $3 paycheck every 2 weeks. Desperate,  I began to steal.

July 7^th

“Hey mom! How’s your day been? Mine has been full of achievement! We completed one of our far foot marches around 2 miles with 15 pounds of gear all the way to the gas chamber dun dun dunnnn. The gas chamber sucked!!!”

July 8^th

“Hey mom how’s your day? Mind has been pretty good! …Tuesday we have a combat lifesaver test then Thursday we have our 2-2-2, 2 minutes of push-ups, 2 minutes of sit-ups, and a 2 mile run and I think I can pass it!….I can’t wait to hear from you!…I won’t be able to send this until tues so I hope you are doing good just like me! I love you!”

July 9^th

“I want the rest of my days in BCT to be like today because if they are then BLC will be a breeze . Our ds even started to show a hint of pride today! That’s almost like doing something great and getting your father’s approval! Well I gotta go to bed, I’ll write you tomorrow lov you tons and tons! Don’t forget to write back!”

When I was not working in the kitchen, I slept. I shut down. I slept 6 months straight nearly night and day. I never showered. Other women began to whisper. I didn’t care. I didn’t brush my teeth. I slept. I rarely went to work. Scheduled to work 3 days a week, I took so many days off I was shocked I wasn’t disciplined and fired. I didn’t care.

This time is a fog of sleep to me.

July 11^th

“I got your letters today. I was so happy I read them first thing! And to answer your question the weather here sucks! It’s always 100 degrees and incredibly humid…”

July 12^th

“..I hope you were able to read my letter, it was in my right shoulder pocket and got drenched in sweat. I’m sorry if my letters bounce around a lot, I’m just writing down my thoughts and emotions…”

July 13^th

“Hey mom how was your day? Mine was a mixed day, mostly bad, but it had some good. My platoon managed to piss of our DS so much that they gave the entire platoon a counseling statement. 85% of the entire platoon also failed the land nav test, so everyone had to retest…”

July 16^th

“Hey mom, today and yesterday have for the most part, sucked. Our DS quit on us because most of my platoon can’t shut up. So we’ve been forced to walk everywhere with our hands in our pockets and our heads down….everyone trying to tell us we are all failures…but what do they know?..I’m hoping this will be an easier day. I think it will be! Keep sending letters, I love you!”

The One thing that mattered most to me was my children. I feared losing my connection with them. This motivated me to get out of bed, get to work when I did, and try. I cried often and I struggled to the phone, wrote letters to them, and slept. I felt empty, isolated and withdrawn.

July 21^st

“Hey mom, today has been pretty great! wE went to the range today…and guess what? I was in the top 10…there are 210 recruits in our company and I was in the top 10!…today they served us cookies at dinner chow, I was sooooo happy I didn’t take one, the people that did got smoked for an hour and a half! Talk about a trap!…. I keep randomly thinking of the days in the future where I’ll be able to come see you by muself in person, not through glass! I can’t wait!…I miss my siblings. I bet they look so much older since they left.”

July 23^rd

“Today our ds split our platoon up between the ppl he could tell wanted to be here and those he could tell didn’t. the ppl he could tell did want to be here got to continue on some good training…I made it to the good side! I was one of the 1^st ones he called out! I felt so great! P.S. Keep writing me back!”

July 28^th

“ Hey mom, today has ben awesome! We got to fire our m16 rifles. We had to group and zero them. I got it on my first try! And you only get 30 rounds to do it! … If you don’t receive a letter from me for a few days, it’s because I’m extremely busy. I try to write every night but don’t always have enough time…love you”

My oldest son Noel was a great help to me, although I’m sure he didn’t know it at the time. I wanted to be a good mom and become a better mom in the future. The letters and emails from my children  kept moving me forward during the darkest times.

Aug 2^nd

“…I passed my last PT test! As of right now, I’m completely on track to graduate BCT!…Today we got fitted for dress blues, man I looked good!When I get hom I send you pictures (can’t wear them to see you because it has metal buttons) but just know I look good in them! Also, I am getting your letters so keep sending them!

August 13^th

“Hi mom, it’s nice to write to you again!…i’m starting to understand how homesick you must have felt when you first went to prison too, sometimes I remember for a moment of a time when we went out to a movie just me and you…. I also tend to think sometimes of other things I miss…”

August 24^th

“Hey mom, I know I haven’t written in a long time, but I have a good time to now. By the time  you get this I will probably be home, so I guess I’m also writing this for me. I have completed all of my BCT training and have dawned my beret. …All I have left to do is turn in some equipment tomorrow and wait till next Thursday to graduate (I can’t wait!). I got stitched up on Wednesday during Victory Forge because during a riot drill I got tackled and my helmet slid down my face and a metal plate called a rhino mount dug into my nose. It’s only 3 stitches, and they are being taken out this Monday. Now my ds call me Lima Foxtrot for Lion Face, but my friends have combined it with my last name and call me Lionhart. …I can’t wait to finaly leave this place! It’s nice to think that this is my last Friday here. Well I gotta go to bed. I love you! Love, Noel”

In October 2012 Noel turned 18. I remember the first time I was able to hug him, sit with him and talk for an hour! Just him and me!

I urged him to wear his full dress blues to visit me. The prison said he could, and so he agreed.

I waited at the back of the visiting room, full of people on a busy Saturday. The door clicked open and I stood, waiting for the first glimpse. As he turned the corner, dressed sharply in dress blues, gold buttons shining, beret on his head, pants creased, shoes shining, I jumped up and down like a kid. I started clapping, I cried.

Walking smartly he navigated the room. A hush fell as heads turned to take in the smartly dressed soldier making his way to his mom. I was so proud of my son! Tears  return today just remembering that moment.

Listener, are you a parent in a challenging situation? I know how much you love your child, your children. You’re not alone.

Often circumstances like these can leave us feeling powerless and frustrated, searching for real help, maybe wishing for powerful friends or allies.

I remember when I first began reading the Bible  I thought of God as an observer, a spectator. I was wrong. I didn’t understand how powerful God is, how involved He is in each of our lives, in our hearts.

God says “I am the Lord” more than 150 times in the Bible. Why? Exodus 6: 8 tells us “I am the Lord – you have the pledge of my changeless omnipotence and faithfulness.”

God also says often, “My name is the Lord.” Jeremiah 16: 21 says, “Therefore says the lord behold I will make them know, yes this once I will make them know my power and my might; and they will know and recognize that my name is the lord.”

God says in Isaiah 52 “Therefore My people shall know what My name is and what it means.”

And what does His name mean? What does any person’s name mean? What does your name mean? There are many Tommy’s out there, but when I say Tommy, it means Tommy my loving son who at age 11 was emailing me, his mom, about camp casey. There are many Noels but when I say the name the name means Noel my son who wrote me, his mom in prison, every day while he was in boot camp.

Psalm 91 says

“Because you have made the Lord your refuge, and the Most High your dwelling place,

¹⁰ There shall no evil befall you, nor any plague or calamity come near your tent.

¹¹ For He will give His angels charge over you to accompany and defend and preserve you in all your ways

¹² They shall bear you up on their hands, lest you dash your foot against a stone.

¹³ You shall tread upon the lion and adder; the young lion and the serpent shall you trample underfoot.

¹⁴ Because he has set his love upon Me, therefore will I deliver him; I will set him on high, because he knows and understands My name [has a personal knowledge of My mercy, love, and kindness—trusts and relies on Me, knowing I will never forsake him, no, never].

¹⁵ He shall call upon Me, and I will answer him; I will be with him in trouble, I will deliver him and honor him.

¹⁶ With long life will I satisfy him and show him My salvation.”

So who is God, to you? Make Him your co-parent today. He’s our most powerful ally, and he’s always with your children! Begin a prayer life today and talk to God about everything on your heart.

I know there are times when we can’t even be with our children, haven’t seen them in years. Do not give up hope. God is with them even now! You can pray, right now, for your children and know that you are talking to the very person who’s in the room with your child. What a connection! An immediate connection with a lost son or daughter! What a beautiful bridge, and a powerful one. Let’s start today.

Dear Jesus, I pray for the person listening right now, and I pray for me, that you will teach us your name and what it means by experience. Thank you that we can parent our children with you and through you. Amen

Now to Him Who, by His power that is at work within us, is able to do superabundantly, far over and above all that we dare ask or think beyond our highest prayers, desires, thoughts, hopes, or dreams— to him be the glory!

Be encouraged today!

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Discover extra content in the blog post – Ring Toss & Doppelgangers!

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In November 2011 I was finishing my first year in prison. I had recently been on suicide watch in the prison’s segregation unit after my husband left the state with our children. A brief stay afterwards in the prison’s mental health program had brought me to General Assembly – my newest job.

I share unique prison job experiences, unusual co-workers, supervisors, and guards I met in General Assembly and some unexpected life lessons I still use today in leadership positions I’ve been given.

I discuss making an impact in the lives of others, loving those around us in profound ways, and the small steps that can be taken today that make a big difference tomorrow.

TRANSCRIPT

Are you seeking purpose and direction? Are you eager to make a difference?

Join me as I navigate a prison job environment, encountering new challenges and unexpected lessons. Brace yourself for difficult coworkers and gripping tales of leadership.

Discover the dynamics of power, revealing defiance and resilience. We’ll reveal the secret to making a profound impact for others. Listen til the end, you won’t want to it! This, is Ring Toss and Dopplegangers!

I began my job in General Assembly at the end of November 2011. Also called Rubber, it was housed in a large warehouse building shared by several educational and industry job opportunities.

There were 2 main jobs – ring inspections and cutting rubber. Rings were actually gaskets needing quality control inspections. Cutting rubber involved trimming excess rubber from molded car parts. The room was divided in half, each with its own supervisor and leads. I was assigned to rings.

Base pay was 50 cents. It was an industry job though, and one could do “pie work” (work at non-prison wages) at $4-$6 per hour! I was eager for that privilege.

Working rings started by retrieving a tub of gaskets and returning to your desk. You examine each for flaws, removing small imperfections and rejecting ones with cracks. Slowly the tub would empty, rejects and perfects identified.

I was just getting settled when Danielle arrived, launching her new career in rings to my right. Danielle didn’t want this job. Why didn’t she take a sick every day until she was fired? “Sicking out” is an option.

Danielle was determined to get fired for bad behavior. Her new supervisor seemed determined to keep her here. A bizarre power struggle unfolded. It soon became clear Danielle was a veteran in this type of war.

Danielle employed several awesome bad behaviors with drama. She’d arrive at work and slap herself into her desk. Dramatically. Danielle was tall, in her 20’s, with long brown hair. Tossing her coat to the floor she’d stamp over to grab a tub of rings, much heavy sighing and shoulder heaving added for effect. Returning to her desk she’d begin a vigil.

She slept at her desk with a blue prison coat tucked under her chin. Snoring was an option. She occasionally awoke. Waiting to catch her supervisor’s eye, she’d toss rings high into the air ’round the room like candy at a parade. Gaskets bouncing and rolling across the floor, she’d continued to empty her tub of rings faster than the rest of us.

Interested (and outraged) I waited for our supervisor’s response. I thought she was awful. Gaskets rolled past my feet as I examined another one of my own for tiny cracks and set it in the perfects pile. I considered throwing a few at her back.

Officer Mike was the guard who ran our half of General Assembly. Mike would occasionally have a talk with Danielle. I would have preferred these talks be stern lectures and threats of discipline. They were not. It appeared Officer Mike was trying to help her. I do not remember the outcome, what happened to Danielle as relates to that job. I took this all in though. I was learning that guards can be people who care about people.

Can you relate to dealing with a difficult person? Have you been a difficult person at one time or another?

The other half of the room was run by a guard named Officer Kim. Miss Kim was small and intimidating. She didn’t take any crap. She ran General Assembly much like the classrooms at the private school I grew up in. Stern. She missed nothing.

No talking, and there was no talking. People were afraid to talk and if they did it was in hushed whispers. She could still hear you and would come out of the office to chide the room. She sent an inmate to seg once for having a pen. To be fair, she commanded the inmate to turn over the pen. Three times. The inmate refused three times.

The third time Miss Kim demonstrated her seriousness by placing a hand on her walkie talkie, showing that refusal to comply would mean arrest and discipline. The inmate had the pen tucked behind her ear like a backup cigarette. The inmate’s response was to slowly reach up, dislodge it from her ear and let it tumble to the floor. The inmate waited, daring Miss Kim to bend over and pick it up at her feet.

Miss Kim shook her head sadly and hit the walkie talkie, calling for backup. Soon the inmate was surrounded by several guards, handcuffed, arrested, and being walked to segregation. I tried to imagine the conversations that would later take place in segregation as everyone shared what tales of derring-do, they had committed to deserve their placement…”Fighting”…”drugs”….”I wouldn’t give a guard a pen”…. What a proud moment it must have been for that inmate.

One day as I was inspecting rings, I glanced over at Miss Kim’s side of the room and noticed Rebecca standing near her desk. Rebecca was another interesting inmate. She’d recently been assigned to this job and her heart wasn’t in it. Her heart wasn’t in much of anything. She was friendly, but not a high achiever.

Rebecca had been assigned to cutting rubber. She was not good at it. I cannot say whether she was actually trying and simply unable to do well, or rather performing poorly on purpose. The result was the same – lots of ruined parts. She was also extremely slow.

On this particular day I looked up to see Miss Kim approach Rebecca and meet her at her desk. Miss Kim certainly would have every reason to discuss Rebecca’s poor work. That’s not what she did. To my surprise she said, “Rebecca, I want to tell you I’m impressed with your self-discipline. This job starts early and it’s full-time, long hours. It’s clear that you do not enjoy it and find it difficult. Most women choose to ‘sick-out’ until they are fired. You continue to come here every day on time! That’s very unusual, so I want to ask you – how can I help you? Let’s make this work.”

Wow! Years later I became an Adult Basic Education (G.E.D.) English tutor at the prison (still incarcerated – we are just fast forwarding a bit). Our teacher would often have students work in groups. A student named Felicia had recently been added to the class. She appeared extremely depressed. She rarely did her work, even when put with a group where she could simply copy the answers from them. She wouldn’t ask for help and rarely spoke at all. She sat frozen, hugging herself, rarely talking, rarely moving, never smiling.

After a few weeks I bought a blank card on canteen and told her how glad I was to have her in our class, with reasons. I started, “I want to tell you I’m impressed with your self-discipline. It’s clear that you do not enjoy coming to class. Most women choose to ‘sick-out’ until they are fired. But you continue to come here every day on time! That’s very unusual. You are respectful to the teacher and do not disrupt class. You are very honest and that shows when you refuse to turn in work you did not do yourself. I am glad to have you in class. How can I help you better?”

I mailed her the card. She never made mention of receiving it. But a few days later she arrived to class for the first time ever with all of her work completed. She joined her group and worked with them. She raised her hand to ask for help. She did not smile, but she talked. She shared. She cried. She started to live again. She appeared to breathe for the first time in months. If you know what I mean.

I think it was no accident Danielle was seated next to me. Nor was it coincidental that despite Rebecca being across a busy room I happened to look over at just the moment Miss Kim was heading over to have a talk with her. I learned some things from Mike and Kim.₁

I was about to meet someone else important. Strolling towards Tubman where I lived, I did a double take! My mother-in-law appeared to be heading down the nearest walkway to Broker! I stopped, absolutely shocked. This seemed impossible for several reasons, not the least of which was she didn’t even live in Minnesota, let alone engage in criminal activity, and yet… but it was just a glimpse, and the woman was gone. I shook my head and moved on, laughing at myself. “Impossible!” I snorted.

A week later Laura, my pseudo mother-in-law, was sitting in front of me in General Assembly. The similarities were stunning. I’d known my mother-in-law for 20 years, and they had seen our relationship in many stages. Right now, our relationship was pretty poor.

Laura spun in her chair to introduced herself. Leaning forward and resting her arms on the desk between us she tossed out, “Hi, I’m Laura! What’s your name?” Her green gaze penetrated mine as she waited for a response.

Not allowed to talk at work, the room was hushed as a library. Also, my mother-in-law’s name wasn’t Laura. Several small conflicts took place within me. What rose to the top of the emotional pile bizarrely was, “Me?? You talking to me??”

I didn’t say that out loud, but acted it out like charades. I froze, project in hand. General Assembly was laid out like a classroom. Laura and I were in the same row. Raising my eyebrows questioningly I slowly turned to the left (and even though I was the last person in the row) and looked over my shoulder to see who Laura was making new friends with.

No one behind me and no one in the row to my left. Returning my gaze to the front, Laura is still staring at me! She makes no mention of my curious behavior so far.

Still a bit off I decided to check my right side for Laura’s new friend who’s certainly not me. Another slow swivel with similar results. Feeling a bit silly I return my gaze front and center. Nonplussed Laura finally answers my unasked question, “Yes I’m talking to you. What’s your name?” Oh.

Laura became a wonderful friend! She was so much like my mother-in-law that I could not remember to call Laura by her actual name. I always called her by my mother-in-law’s name. For months. She got used to it. She started answering to it. What can you do?

By this time my husband had moved to Washington with our children and was living with his parents. This was very hard for me to even think about or imagine. I hated that they were so very far away. My relationship with him and his family was very strained. In my heart I was very bitter. I wondered if God had placed Laura in my life to soften my heart in this area. Laura was very easy to love, and she was a daily reminder of how easy my mother-in-law had been to love.

My heart began to thaw little by little and bitterness started to leave me.

Listener, are you searching for meaning and purpose in your life? Are you faced with conflict, difficult relationships, or challenging people in your life? Are you facing uncertainty, financial hardship, adversity? These are hard problems that can make us feel trapped.

This podcast is about real life transformation, real help. Jesus said,

If you abide in My word [hold fast to My teachings and live in accordance with them], you are truly My disciples.

³² And you will know the Truth, and the Truth will set you free. John 8

So let’s look in His word and discover the truth  – the meaning and purpose of life.

the Bible says in Eccl. 12:13

All has been heard; the end of the matter is: Fear God  – revere and worship Him, knowing that He is, and keep His commandments, for this is the whole of man , the full, original purpose of his creation, the object of God’s providence, the root of character, the foundation of all happiness, the adjustment to all inharmonious circumstances and conditions under the sun] and the whole [duty] for every man. Eccl 12:13

What does it mean? The foundation of all happiness sounds good, and so does having all inharmonious circumstances under the sun adjusted! This is talking about morality – worshiping God and obeying Him. So how do we understand that in relation to the meaning of life and our purpose?

CS Lewis explains in his book mere Christianity. He says there are 2 ways in which the human machine goes wrong. One is when people drift apart or collide with one another and do damage. The other is when things go wrong inside a person.

You can get the idea if you think of us as a fleet of ships sailing in formation. The voyage will only be a success if first, the ships do not collide or get in each other’s way and second, if each ship is seaworthy. 

In fact, you cannot have one without the other. If the ships keep hitting each other they will not remain seaworthy very long. On the other hand, if their steering gears are out of order they will not be able to avoid collisions.

However, there is one thing we have not talked about yet – we have not asked where the fleet is trying to go. However well the fleet sailed its voyage would be a failure if it were meant to reach new York and actually arrived at Calcutta.

C.S. Lewis continues then, to tell us:

Morality then seems to be about 3 things. First, fairness and harmony between people. second, tidying up the things inside each person. Third, the general purpose of human life as a whole – what man was made for, what course the whole fleet ought to be on.

You may have noticed people are nearly always thinking about the first thing and forgetting the other 2. When ppl say we are striving for kindness and fairness between nations and individuals they are only thinking about harmony between people.

When a person says about something they want to do, ‘this can’t be wrong because it doesn’t do anyone else harm,’ they are only thinking of the first thing. They are thinking it does not matter what their ship is like inside provided they do not run into the next ship.

And that’s natural, to begin with the first thing, social relationships, because the results of bad morality are so obvious – war and poverty and lies. And also, as long as you stick to the first thing there’s very little disagreement about morality. Almost everyone agrees in theory that people ought to be honest and kind and helpful.

But if our morality stops there, we might just as well have not thought at all. What good is it to tell ships how to steer so they can avoid collisions if they are in fact such crazy old tubs they cannot be steered at all? What good is it to create rules on paper if we know that our greed, cowardice, and conceit are going to prevent us from keeping them?

It is good, to improve our social system. But all of our thinking will be nonsense unless we realize that You cannot make people good by law; and without good people you cannot have a good society.

But you cannot stop there either. We are at a third point in which different beliefs about the universe lead to different behavior. Let’s go back to the man who says that a thing cannot be wrong unless it hurts someone else. He understands he must not damage the other ships, but he honestly thinks what he does to his own ship is his own business.

But does it not make a great difference whether his ship is his own property or not? It makes a big difference whether I am the landlord of my own mind and body or only a tenant, responsible to the real landlord! If someone else made me for His own purposes, then I shall have a lot of duties which I would not have if I simply belonged to myself.

God says,

Behold, all souls are Mine; Ez 18:4

Whatever is under the whole heavens is Mine. job 41:11

How important is this, to you, to me? God tells us we all, every person, are going to live forever. Either it is true or false. There are a lot of things which would not be worth bothering about if we were only going to live 70 years, but which we should take seriously if you are going to live forever. Perhaps your bad temper is gradually getting worse. In 70 years, it might not be very noticeable, but it will be absolutely hell in a million years.

There’s one other important difference. If we were only to live 70 years, then a state or nation, which may last a thousand years, or more, is more important than an individual. But if Christianity is true – then the individual is not only more important but incomparably more important, for he or she is everlasting and the life of a state or a civilization compared to him, is only a moment!

Listener, you are precious, important, priceless! And you have a God-given purpose. Let’s read again what it is – All has been heard; the end of the matter is: Fear God – revere and worship Him, knowing that He is, and keep His commandments, for this is the whole of man , the full, original purpose of his creation.

And where did Jesus say we can learn how to do this?

If you abide in My word [hold fast to My teachings and live in accordance with them], you are truly My disciples.

³² And you will know the Truth, and the Truth will set you free. John 8

Dear Jesus, I pray for the person listening right now, and I pray for me, that you will give us a craving for your word, help us to trust and obey you. Teach us the truth. Amen

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Be encouraged today!

“From Surviving to Living” is a both a serialized audiobook as well as a hybrid podcast, splitting out of its standard format monthly to interview guest in a studio setting. The serialized format uses the blog at www.hollybot.me for episode content, chronicling Holly Bot’s journey through prison and reentry in community.

“From Surviving to Living” with Holly Bot resonates with individuals who have faced personal challenges such as incarceration, financial struggles, addiction, or relationship difficulties. It’s for also those seeking stories of resilience, redemption, and spiritual growth, particularly those interested in exploring the role of faith and personal transformation in overcoming adversity. Additionally, it appeals to anyone looking for inspiration, encouragement, and practical insights on navigating life’s obstacles and finding meaning in difficult circumstances.

Credit:

Music from #Uppbeat (free for Creators!):
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Discover extra content in the blog post – GENERAL ASSEMBLY!

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Do you desire success, respect, love? Do you feel unconditionally respected and loved?

Eight months into my prison sentence I faced uncertainty. While I waited for employment I considered my failures. I hoped for relief, a better future! Distraction from the truth was easier to find.

Discover God’s perfect will for you and learn how He performs it! We’ll uncover the secret of love as God defines it, and how you can experience it today. Listen to the end, you won’t want to miss it! This is General Assembly.

Credits:

TRANSCRIPT

It was November 2011. Incarcerated now 8 months, I finished the WoW program and became eligible to work again. I’d been fired from my last job so I could not choose the next one. Nervously I checked the mail daily, waiting for a job assignment. The prison would assign it to me based on the needs of the prison. It could be anything.

Starting wages in prison varied from 25 to 50 cents an hour and top pay ranged from one to two dollars. A few jobs even allowed for $4-$6 per hour occasionally.

Prior to incarceration I struggled to manage money. I saw this as a performance issue. Financial success that I could proudly demonstrate – and I enjoyed showing off – would give me the approval I craved. So, I struggled with what my apparent failure said about me. I did not budget; I hated the rigidity, the very concept! I sometimes engaged in “retail therapy” whether or could afford it or not. I never really could afford it. If I could, I would attempt to out-earn my over-spending. I had written bad checks in the past and also played beat the bank with a check. the anxiety of such behavior eventually became too much, and I stopped using checks completely.

I remember the first time I saw the inside of a jail cell. My husband and I had moved to a small town and lived on his income. We struggled. It’s not hard to imagine. We had one car, used food shelves, saw our utilities frequently turned off, and were pretty skinny. On the flip side, we both smoked a pack a day.

To purchase food, I’d written a check I was sure would clear…eventually. I spent it at the local grocery store. It did not clear, and we couldn’t afford to make it good. This wasn’t the first time this had happened. It was the first time I was arrested for such a thing. My parents and husband found money immediately to pay the fine and I was released within a few hours.

At the time, I felt trapped in poverty, unsure how to escape into stability. I worked from home, sometimes 2 and 3 jobs, while raising our 5 children. I felt desperate to quit smoking. Nothing ever seemed to stick. Inside I died a million deaths, more miserable than the day before.

Can you relate? Do you struggle with finances, addiction, or relationships? Are you looking for solutions?

I thought many people did better. I tried to avoid thinking about it too much. When forced to face my behavior I used justification, excuses and blame-shifting. I yearned to be a self-disciplined financial success!

C.S. Lewis states accurately in Mere Christianity, “No man knows how bad he is till he has tried very hard to be good.” He states further, “Unless we really try, whatever we say there will always be at the back of our minds the idea that if we try harder next time, we shall succeed in being completely good….

“All this trying leads up to the vital moment at which you turn to God and say, ‘You must do this. I can’t.'”

Admittedly, I did not correlate these behaviors with God at all.  I did feel they were painful and undesirable. I was the “try harder next time” person.

Do you find yourself seeking success or trying harder in order to be liked or feel worthwhile?

Alarmingly, if I could not manage wages at hundreds of dollars a week or thousands of dollars a month, how was I now going to manage living on just a fraction? Successfully With sanity?

Most inmates receive only half their paycheck. The rest is taken in enforced savings, fines, fees, and the like. For many (and often me!) that meant working for 12.5 cents per hour, full-time, and receiving a two week total paycheck of $3.50 on average.

I struggle with what to share here. How do I adequately contrast life outside of prison, the foreign world inside prison, and where I fell in the mix? Some things about prison are shocking to learn no matter who you are. I’m not suggesting these things are good or bad.

When I first arrived at prison, I was loaned $15 from the prison whether I needed it or not. This $15 would be paid back from my first paychecks, which I would not earn until I had finished R&O. For some it could take months and months to repay this $15 because their monthly pay is so low.

I was also loaned a few needed items such as an alarm clock. We were warned we must return these after orientation. The prison strongly recommended we use our loan to purchase our own alarm clocks and other important items that would set us up for success.

This is no small suggestion. The prison runs on a firm schedule and individual cells have no clock. Failure to stand at one’s cell door for an inmate count results in discipline. Failure to go to work at the right time results in discipline. Too much discipline escalates to worse discipline. Alarm clocks become a lifeline!!

Orientation lasts 2 weeks, just enough time to order these things before loaners are taken away. Many inmates do not order their own. It is hard to imagine future consequences when faced with immediate suffering. For example, one often arrives at prison from county jail dirty, hungry and in pain, without personal belongings. Purchases other than an alarm clock seems more significant. Like shampoo.

Inmates are expected to pay for almost everything except food and shelter. They must do their own laundry, for example, with laundry soap they have purchased. All hygiene must be purchased, as well as paper, pencils, envelopes, school supplies, and so on. If an inmate wishes to call someone, they must pay for phone time, which can be expensive.

Where do we shop? Canteen. What is that? Canteen is a retail store currently run by MINNCOR in Minnesota. MINNCOR is the state’s prison industry program formed by the Department Of Corrections.¹ In 2003 MINNCOR took over and centralized the state’s canteen operations which had previously been run autonomously at each facility.

Even though prisoner wages are very low, canteen does not have low prices. It also does not have much variety. I don’t know why, but both things surprised me. Did these people not know where the good prices could be found? Did they not understand supply and demand? (No and no)

Canteen will be ordered by inmates on a Sunday, for example, and their order will not arrive that week, but 2 weeks later. MINNCOR is frequently out of stock without warning on many items (so many items). Inmates are limited to how much they can order and to the amount of property they are allowed to keep in their cell. This means scrupulous planning, budgeting and ordering if one wants to succeed! Failure, anger, so much anger and frustration were about to enter my future for years!

So much could be said about this. I imagine I will say more in the future. It’s an emotional subject. Such potential for growth can be found here. I raged when my order was short without warning. I overspent. I went without unexpectedly. I ranted about the system. I blamed prison policy. I blamed MINNCOR outages for my inconveniences, discomforts, and hardships. In short – I justified my own behavior, made excuses, and shifted the blame to others.

I did order that alarm clock while I was in R&O, but not because I was wise or future forward thinking. I lacked the ability to look ahead and be afraid of the discomfort that was my future.

My excuses and blame-shifting extended to my depression and mental health. I remember overhearing 2 women discuss a book by a popular Christian writer. The book covered the topic of mental health. As I listened, I became angry, outraged. I’d suffered depression for decades, was desperate for relief. I had not read the book, but it sounded as if the book implied, I didn’t have a health issue, but rather a spiritual one.

‘How outrageous!’ I thought. Confident of my Christian upbringing, I was certain that if something was wrong with me, then it must not be my fault. I had been forgiven, I was saved, and most important – I had gone to church a lot. I knew lots about God.

Apparently, I wasn’t the only one who thought this way. Years later, I sat in the clinic waiting room. The room quickly filled up and suddenly discussion was lively. It quickly turned to mental health and this same book was mentioned. “As if my depression has anything to do with God!” the woman next to me scoffed. “How stupid!”

I now had a very different opinion. In the intervening years I’d learned something. My inability to cure myself of something doesn’t prove it’s not a problem between me and God. In fact, I’d learned proof positive that the only person who can cure me of anything, sin or otherwise, is God Himself. And if it is, in fact, sin – only God can cure it.

Jesus says many times to people, “Be healed.” When he does, He is not telling them to heal themselves. He’s making a declarative statement. He’s preparing them for the work HE’S about to do for them. He’s the healer. They will be healed by His power.

It is no different with our sin. God say, “Be perfect, for I am perfect, be holy, for I am holy.” He is not telling us to perfect ourselves. God is declaring and preparing us for the work HE’S about to do, for us. God is perfect – we will by holy by His power.

We can accept it or reject it. For decades I was outraged and searched for ways to heal myself.

back to November 2011. Faced with retail priced necessities and low wages I set my heart on the highest paying jobs and hoped for the best. I wanted to use some of my past coping skills (out-earn my overspending). These good jobs were the MINNCOR industry jobs. Finally, I was rewarded with an assignment – and industry it was – General Assembly, known to us inmates as Rubber.

I began the week before Thanksgiving.

Dear listener, Jesus says “‘Love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your mind.’^{[c] 38} This is the first and greatest commandment. ³⁹ And the second is like it: ‘Love your neighbor as yourself.’ Matthes 22:27-28

God talks often about love in the Bible. When I first began reading it, I wondered what it meant. As you can tell, I was a person very interested in performing well, so I wanted to know how to do it, well, right! Was Jesus describing a feeling? What kind of feeling? A behavior? What behavior? I was hoping for a dictionary definition. Thankfully God doesn’t disappoint. Did you know He provided us exactly this in His Word? He did! It’s in I John 3

This is how we know that we love the children of God: by loving God and carrying out his commands. ³ In fact, this is love for God: to keep his commands.

That’s awesome! I was shocked, actually to discover that love of others is loving God, and loving God is obeying God. So, it all boils down to obeying God.

This makes sense. What are God’s commands? The Bible calls them “His ways.” His ways of doing and being right to be more specific. Women – we have ways, don’t we? Ways of doing and being right. Yes, we do! Men, if you’re married, you know all about women’s ways. Your woman has a way!

Well God has His ways, and His ways are perfect.  Now this isn’t about rule following. It’s about love. Have you loved someone? I bet they had likes and dislikes different from yours, maybe even at times uncomfortable for you. Did you discuss it? Did you adjust? Adapt? I bet so. As you did, did it feel like love, or keeping commands? I bet it felt like love.

God tells us in Proverbs 16
Roll your works upon the Lord [commit and trust them wholly to Him; He will cause your thoughts to become agreeable to His will, and] so shall your plans be established and succeed.

CS Lewis says in his book mere Christianity, the rule for all of us is perfectly simple. Do not waste time bothering whether you love your neighbor; act as if you did. As soon as we do this, we find one of the great secrets. When you are behaving as if you loved someone, you will presently come to love him.

He goes on to say, the worldly man treats certain people kindly because he likes them; the Christian, trying to treat everyone kindly, finds himself liking more and more people as he goes on – including people he could not even have imagined himself liking at the beginning. This same spiritual law works terribly in the opposite direction – the more cruel you are, the more you will hate, the more you hate, the more cruel you will become and so on in a vicious circle forever.

Good and evil both increase in compound interest. That is why the little decisions you and I make every day are of such importance. The smallest, good act today is the capture of a strategic point from which a few months later you may be able to go on to victories you never dreamed of.

Listener, A thousand people wait on the other side of your act of obedience today.

Dear Jesus, I pray for the person listening right now, and I pray for me, that you will teach us your ways. We want to commit to you, trust you, obey you. Teach us more about love. Amen

Be encouraged, today!

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Welcome everyone! I’m Holly Bot and This is From Surviving to Living, the podcast where raw stories of transformation are told. This is not just a podcast; it’s the power of change!

God is interested in you! My story is not fiction. I am a woman, a felon, a sex offender; I did hard time. I am so awed by Jesus I will risk my reputation and talk about it. He transformed me. He will do that for you. I trust Him. I hope you do too!

Are you hurting? Sick of just surviving? I was too. How does one really, truly live?

God causes transformation. it is possible for everyone. Thank God! I never saw it coming. Let me tell you how it happens.

Get ready for your adventure of faith, and life beyond bars. This is “From Surviving to Living!”

Credits –

Music from Uppbeat:

https://uppbeat.io/track/papercastle/call-us-friends
License code: 8XWFNXJCRKAZU6ES

Discover extra content in the blog post – WoW!

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In October 2011 my definition of rock bottom was redefined when my husband left the state with our children. After 2 weeks on suicide watch the prison transferred me to a mental health program named Woman of Wellness. The social isolation of prison was made more complete by the distance from my children I now experienced as they moved across the country.

I share the surprising living conditions at MCF-Shakopee and the unusual rules such as the “No Touching” policy that caused additional emotional trauma while it tried to prevent the same.

I discuss social isolation and share comparisons between COVID-19 lockdowns and prison policies that lead to severe loneliness and physical illness. Are you lonely? Are you isolated or looking for connection with others? I share insights for having a personal experience with God and how this can lead us to deeper human connection with others.

TRANSCRIPT

Listen today to discover intimacy with Jesus, overcoming adversity, fostering personal growth, and finding hope in every situation!

Despite my difficult experiences in seg, I found solace in a mental health program. I reveal the surprising living conditions at Shakopee prison and show parallels between my experience of isolation there and the broader social impact observed during the COVID-19 pandemic.

How can we apply these insights to have a personal experience with God, appreciate human connection, and recognize the potential for transformation in any circumstances? Listen until the end, you won’t want to miss it! This is Wow!

October 2011. I waited to be released from seg.

recent experience had left me drained. Sitting in seg on suicide watch had been demoralizing. Forced to wear a padded gown, watched by cameras always, having to ask for squares of toilet paper each time…I was not even allowed to wear underwear or use tampons. Helpless, I bled on the gown and myself, messy and embarrassed, alone and shaken – my dignity taking a beating. Now, I wished to feel any measure of control. Finally released from seg I was transferred to Monahan, the prison’s mental health living unit.

Have you ever experienced a difficult time that felt really lonely? Do you know someone who has?

At my website Hollybot.me you’ll find pictures of the MCF-Shakopee prison campus, inside and out.

You might be surprised to discover it doesn’t resemble a prison, as you might imagine a prison to look. It was far different than I expected. MCF-Shakopee resembles a college campus with nice dorms and well-manicured lawns.

In 1986 MCF-Shakopee opened at its current location. It was state of the art for its time but almost at once needed renovation to meet its increasing needs. In 2000 Shakopee opened the Monahan living unit and 8 years later expansion began again. A $5.3 million dollar addition to Monahan opened adding another 92 beds for treatment and therapy (for a total of 154), making Monahan the largest living unit at Shakopee.

Shakopee’s “cells” also seemed atypical to me. Without bars, they have wooden doors. Walking through a living unit is like touring an apartment complex. Cells have their own separate bathrooms and furniture is wooden.

Prison had been unexpected. Seven months later as I left segregation to enter the Women of Wellness mental health program, Monahan surprised me yet again. I felt tensions fall away. Because this unit was built later it had a different design. Entering was like stepping out of prison and into another place. Instead of white paint and concrete block, it delivered lilac colors and sheetrock walls! I wished I could stay here until I was released.

And yet, space for incarcerated women in Minnesota wasn’t always like this. Stillwater was the home of Minnesota’s first prison built in 1853 and it originally housed both men and women convicts.

In 1912 this prison was torn down and rebuilt as a new “state-of-the-art” prison in the town of Bayport. That prison stands today and is named MCF-Stillwater.

In 1915, at a legislative hearing at the Minnesota State Capitol, Mrs. Isabel Higbee made an impassioned plea for the establishment of a reformatory for women. Her doctor told her she needed rest, but she wasn’t about to give up an opportunity. She argued in favor of a new institution where women would neither be incarcerated with male inmates nor with teenage girls. At the conclusion of her talk, Mrs. Higbee collapsed and died. Six days later the bill passed and in 1920, the reformatory opened, and women were transferred out of Stillwater prison.

Today Shakopee’s segregation unit is named after Mrs. Higbee.

“That sure sounds comfortable!” you might think. But Covid-19 and country-wide lockdowns taught us all about isolation.

According to an article in BMC Psychiatry, “The evidence on the mental health harms caused by the response to COVID-19 [are] found to be overwhelming …anxiety, depression, suicide.

The prevalence of severe loneliness increased to 21% during COVID-19 lockdowns compared with 6% previously. This was due to isolation. there are serious health risks linked to severe loneliness including risks rivaling those of smoking, and obesity.”₃

Does this hit home for you? How does isolation affect you? Do you look for ways to spend time with people or avoid them?

And then there was The No Touching Rule. The year I entered prison, Shakopee began a “no touching policy.” It was not a health policy, it was a response to concerns about sex, consensual or otherwise. In an attempt to prevent trauma or moralize inmates, great harm was caused. We were never allowed to touch anyone, ever, except for a greeting hug in the visiting room, if we got a visit. Some women never did.

Imagine being unable to touch anyone for 5 years, 10, 30. The science of touch convincingly suggests we are wired to need to connect with others on a basic physical level. Touching is our primary language of trust and compassion. “To touch can be to give life,” said Michelangelo.

I am remarried now. My husband, Corbyn, is incarcerated, He’d been given a 30-year sentence in 2011 at age 18. I remember the first time I met him in person, I visited him at Stillwater prison. I hugged him; I loved him already. I’ll never forget what he said afterward, my wonderful husband who had been locked away for a decade. It broke my heart, but I understood completely. With wonder he said, “You hugged me as if you wanted to touch me, as if you love me. my family doesn’t even do that.”

In a world of great emotional hurt this was COVID-19 type social isolation before the rest of the world had discovered such pain. New arrivals at Shakopee had train themselves to act in the most unnatural of ways, in short – stop showing or receiving trust and compassion.

Not long after I arrived at Shakopee, while still in orientation, our class made a trip to the library. Excitedly we walked the aisles, gathering good books for later. One of my classmates was showing a recent find to the group and I sidled up next to her. Lisa,₄ a returnee to prison, was familiar with the rules in a way only someone who has experienced punishment can be.

Impatient to grab Lisa’s attention I tapped her arm and held out my book. Distracted from her conversation she acknowledged me, nodded, and finished her thought. then casually, she added for my benefit, “I will be right with you… and don’t tap me. Thank you.” She seemed as if she’d like to add more, thought better of it, then returned to her conversation with the others.

Blankly my mind searched for the reason she might say such a thing. “Don’t tap me”?? Belatedly I recalled the no touching rule. I froze, rattled. I had touched her without thought!

The entire incident lasted less than 10 seconds, yet I remember it clearly today. Scientific studies suggest that fright sears memories into our mind when other things become difficult to recall with time. This hardly seemed like a terrifying event and yet it must have been frightening for me! I cannot forget it. My social fabric was being altered.

Over the coming days, weeks, months and eventually years I became extremely self-conscious, natural behavior feeling unnatural. This led to further emotional detachment, social awkwardness, and anxiety.

WoW programming would provide me with skills to navigate these new circumstances, but it wasn’t a cure. WoW supplied tools for behavior modification. I did need that – yes, I did. I was unaware at the time, however, that total life transformation is possible. WoW doesn’t provide a new life; it just helps one have a better day.

A transformed life was in my future; I just didn’t know it yet. And while MCF-Stillwater is the distant past of all incarcerated women in Minnesota, Shakopee was my present.

MCF-Stillwater would appear again years later and play an important role in my future.

Do you desire intimacy with Jesus? AW Tozer says “the trouble with us today is that we believe without confirmation. We do not have God’s Word confirmed in our hearts. God does not need to confirm anything in Himself, because God, being true, cannot lie; but we need confirmation in ourselves. If we do not get it, we are very poor, anemic, disappointed and dissatisfied Christians. By definition, this confirmation experience starts with conscious awareness. To be aware of something that cannot be broken down any further. “

God is interested in you, and you have a right to be consciously aware of meeting God, a right to that confirmation, a personal experience with the Presence of God that confirms the Word of God.

The Bible says in I John 5

And this is that evidence: God gave us eternal life; and this life is in His son. He who possesses the Son has that life; he who does not posses the Son of God does not have that life. I write this to you who believe in the name of the Son of God so that you may know with settled and absolute knowledge that you already have life, eternal life.

What does it mean to possess the Son?

One of my favorite verses is in I Corinthians and says ¹⁷ But the person who is united to the Lord becomes one spirit with Him.

That’s amazing! It’s intimate.

I remember also reading this verse in I John years ago.

By this we come to know that we abide in Him and He in us: because He has given to us of His Spirit (Holy Spirit).

I really wanted to feel this confirmation inside, this settled assurance. I wondered; how does one know if they have been given the Holy Spirit?

How does one deduce anything regarding unseen things? By the visible effects we can see.

Every follower of Jesus should be a walking miracle, the kind of person who can never be explained.

How? First, Ask God for this. The Bible says in James, “You do not have, because you do not ask.” Second, read and study the Bible regularly. The bible says in Psalm 1

Blessed the man who walks not in the counsel of the ungodly [following their advice nor stands [submissive in the path where sinners walk, nor sits down [to relax where the scornful gather.

² But his delight in the law of the Lord, and on His law – the teachings of God he habitually meditates day and by night.

Dear Jesus, I pray for the person listening right now, and I pray for me, that we will learn more of You, that we will crave Your Word more, and desire time with you more. I pray you deepen our relationship with you today. amen

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Discover extra content in the blog post – A PADDED ROOM!

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In October 2011 everything I thought I knew was turned upside down. My husband fled the state with our children, and still facing 7 more years in prison, helpless, I threatened suicide. While I’d suffered serious depression for years, I became mentally fractured.

I share the emotional journey of hitting rock bottom and finding it’s not the lowest point, experiencing the world as shattered and questioning your own identity, your own ability to understand the world.

I discuss Acute Stress Disorder and its symptoms. Are you facing a rock-bottom moment? Are you looking for hope? Find out about the good life God has waiting for you right now, and how you can pursue it today.

TRANSCRIPT

Even after many years, I remember the moment I felt fractured. I had become familiar with suffering, but now life took an unexpected plunge.

Join me on a raw and authentic journey through the prison system, exploring themes of despair, separation, and the relentless pursuit of hope.

Where do you turn when faced with profound self-doubt? Have you faced a rock-bottom moment? And how can you learn about the amazing life God has waiting for you right now?

Suicide watch in Shakopee takes place in the seg unit. While inmates are usually taken to seg for disciplinary reasons, seg is also used suicide watch and health concerns.

It was October 2011. Seven months had slid by since I arrived at prison. I felt my life hit rock bottom when I entered prison. No. So far, I’d only been given a painful life lesson- a new place to live with ugly new clothes in a laundry bag. Rock bottom can be redefined.

How do you define rock bottom? Was there a time in your life when you felt a need to “redefine” it?

In the months since orientation, I had become sick from the constant trauma. My sense of security eroded. I found myself with competing feelings of disbelief and agitation over the reality of my situation. Simple things like TV commercials showing a happy family together easily blindsided me. I missed my family so much. My stress became so acute I wet my bed at night.

At least my children were safe, I told myself. They were living with my parents. Everything was about to change, like a disaster movie.

My husband’s mental health really declined the year before I went to prison. He lost his job, started drinking heavily and did drugs. He became suicidal and threatening.

for the safety of myself and our children I was given an Order for Protection, which is like a restraining order. My husband was allowed supervised visits. I passed custody on to my parents When I was incarcerated. I felt good knowing my children were safe with my parents.

One Thursday night in October I called my parents, and a new nightmare began. “Your husband told us he’s moving to Washington,” my dad said. “He’s picking the kids up on Monday and taking them with.”

Taken completely off guard I shouted “What?! You can’t let him do that! Call the police if he shows up!” Trembling started in my stomach and began working its way out towards my arms and legs. Tensing, I tried to stop the shaking I knew was coming. “Dad! Don’t let him take them!” I pleaded. Now I was shivering from head to toe, teeth chattering like I was in a blizzard without a coat.

“What can we do to stop him?” my dad asked. “He’s been here already, saying horrible things. He’s threatened to kill us, shoot us right where we stand. Says he’d kill you too if he could.”

I was Horrified I hung up the phone and RAN to the dayroom. other women here must have some advice! My mind was racing with ideas but none of them were usable. Ugh! I felt so helpless!

Could I call the police myself? Slamming open kitchen cupboards I grabbed phone books. Throwing them on a table I traced them over the pages, wondering, ‘Would the police accept a phone call from prison?’

Scribbling numbers I needed on paper I charged back down the hallway to a phone and attacked the keypad. I listened to an automated message, waiting for the call to be accepted. Finally, a police officer arrived on the line, “How can I help you today?”

I raced out, “Yes, my husband is going to kidnap my children. I have a restraining order. My dad says my husband is threatening to kill everyone.” I choked on a sob. “Please help!” I pleaded.

“Oh no!” she said. “We will help your parents. Have them call me.”

Feeling a little better, I did as she instructed and waited for Monday to come.

Monday the nightmare came true. “He took the kids,” my dad told me. “We called the police, but they were busy and didn’t arrive until 40 minutes after he was gone. I’m sorry.”

Stricken, I called my husband’s phone immediately. I struggled to dial the numbers, the keypad, all jumbled – my fingers turning numb. My husband accepted the call, but simply passed his phone to one of our children. “Hi Mom!” Tommy answered excitedly, breathlessly. “We’re on our way to Washington!” Adventure sang in his voice. I could hear wind blowing through the open windows of their vehicle, cars passing as he struggled to be heard over the noise. Someone called for Timmy to roll up his window in the background.

My stomach lurched; I thought I might throw up. I cast around in my mind for what to say but came up empty. My hesitation must have said something all by itself. Tommy’s enthusiasm changed to a more calming, reasoning tone. “Dad asked us if we wanted to go. It’s not like we can’t come back if we don’t like it. It’ll be fine, Mom,” he soothed.

I sucked in a sob. Tommy passed the phone to Lukas. I don’t even remember what I said. 15 minutes came and went. I called back and back and back, desperate to turn that car around, to stop this nightmare. I pleaded, begged, became a pathetic mess.

Finally in utter desperation, with an act of immature manipulation I threw out, “I’m going to kill myself then.” I dropped the phone, dead inside, and went to my room.

I was on a train, a speeding bullet, a horror show that was gaining speed and getting uglier by the minute. I was used to the illusion of feeling in control. I enjoyed micromanaging, being bossy, a know-it-all (and that’s so attractive, isn’t it?). I liked being in charge and calling the shots.

Well, I certainly wasn’t very good at it. Look where it had gotten me! My choices had led to my increasing awareness that I knew much less than I thought, I wasn’t in charge, I did not call the shots, and my last-ditch efforts to save the ship were pathetic at best.

Sometime later, 15 minutes, maybe hours, a guard knocked on my cell door. I opened it and she asked if I would come with her. In flip flop sandals I slumped after her out of Tubman and across the courtyard to the Core building. Passing the OCO desk I duly noticed Ashley waiting for medical. We continued deeper into the building, and I was shown into offices I’d never seen before. I was ushered by a guard into a deep cushioned seat and told to wait.

A few minutes later another guard entered and took a chair. Several other guards arrived and remained standing. I would later learn the seated guard was the Watch Commander. With a look of concern he said, “Your husband called us. He says you are threatening to kill yourself. Is that true?” I turned a flat stare in his direction. I felt nothing. I was wilted, suffocated, past caring. A small table stretched between us. My eyes dropped to the candy dish, colorful wrappers capturing my attention.

“I want to help you,” the man continued. “Have you taken any pills? Did you do anything to hurt yourself?” I raised my eyes to his face again, then studied my hands in my lap. Nothing mattered. My face felt numb, breathing seemed a wasted effort. I sighed. We all waited. Finally, looking up at the guards in the doorway, the Watch Commander echoed my sigh and with a shrug he quietly said, “Take her to seg. I don’t know what else to do with her.”

Suddenly hands were gripping my arms, lifting me from the chair. Metal handcuffs were clicked into place behind my back. Cold metal pressed against my wrists as each guard clutched a bicep and directed me out of the room and down the long walk to seg. Again, we passed the medical, Ashley’s face dropping open in shock as I whisked by her with my escort.

I felt mentally fractured. From Wikipedia: “Acute stress disorder (ASD, also known as acute stress reaction, psychological shock, mental shock, or simply shock) is a psychological response to a terrifying, traumatic, or surprising experience….The DSM-IV specifies that Acute Stress Disorder must be accompanied by the presence of dissociative symptoms, which largely differentiates it from PTSD. Dissociative symptoms include a sense of numbing or detachment from emotional reactions, a sense of physical detachment – such as seeing oneself from another perspective, decreased awareness of one’s surroundings, the perception that one’s environment is unreal or dreamlike.” This describes my next several days. So does the word “broken.”

I was asked to dress in a “pickle suit.” The pickle suit is sometimes called a banana suit. It’s a green or yellow … gown…made of thickly quilted material that is shapeless and formless. Its purpose is to keep the wearer from being naked while removing any opportunities for self-harm. I was not allowed to wear anything else.

The room’s furniture was just like a jail cell, with everything bolted to the floor including a toilet. I was not allowed to have toilet paper or anything else (I could request a few squares of toilet paper at a time, when needed). No books were allowed, not a thing. The room had a camera, and I was watched day and night. I was not permitted underwear, which was unfortunate, as I had my period. I had to bleed on myself, the pickle suit, and the room. That’s just how it was.

The days passed in a fog for me. Time had no meaning. Everything was meaningless. I felt I understood nothing. I was in a daze. Sometimes a nurse would appear at the door with meds. I was told by staff to come to the door. I would stand there stupidly, uncomprehending. I was passed a cup, and would stand there, unaware I was holding a cup. I was told to put water in the cup, and I would just nod, not making the connection, that I needed a cup and water for meds.

At times I slept, at other times I tried to think about my life. I came to no conclusions about anything. I knew nothing for certain. As I stared at the wall or ceiling it even seemed I was staring out through a broken lens, as if the entire world had cracked and gone wrong – jagged seams and cracks splitting down the middle and ruining my understanding of everything. I wondered, ‘Was everything I had ever known been …wrong?’ I was shaken to my core. I no longer trusted myself, I no longer unquestioningly trusted nor believed I knew my parents, I no longer understood the world and how to move in it.

I eventually came to myself. I wanted to know how my children were doing, how my family was doing, and in short, I wanted out of seg.

I want to pause here for a moment. It’s important to stop and realize that even when we come to the end of ourselves, we don’t find God by discovering we are not Him or cannot do His job ourselves. This episode caused me to recognize my need more fully, but I had yet to meet the Master. I had heard lots about Him and believed this knowledge was good enough!

Luke 6:46 “Why do you call me, ‘Lord, Lord,’ and do not do what I say?…49 But the one who hears my words and does not put them into practice is like a man who built a house on the ground without a foundation. The moment the torrent struck that house, it collapsed, and its destruction was complete.”

I put in the request and thought I’d be returning to my regular room and job shortly. That did not happen. Instead to my surprise, the prison accused me of selling drugs (my own anti-depressants) and I was disciplined with an additional 14 days in seg, albeit this time in regular seg clothing.

Well, I was certainly getting the full tour. I had not been selling my pills, but I also hadn’t been taking them exactly as prescribed, which is against the rules. Prior to incarceration, I had been prescribed a very high dose of the anti-depressant Effexor, higher than the FDA recommended. The prison doctor chose to prescribe a lower dose, within the FDC guidelines, for obvious reasons, I guess.

I was not feeling well on this lower dose. Considering all my recent stressors, I’d decided to take matters into my own hands. In the 3 days leading up to my seg visit I’d increased my dose one pill each day (so I was short 3 pills). This is a rule violation.

Released from seg two weeks later, the prison doctor agreed to raise my dosage.

This did not solve my problems. There were more challenges to come. I was still hurtling towards rock bottom.

I think about this experience all these years later. I had never felt more broken. I’ve never felt as broken since, despite worse suffering. But As I sat in that cell, desperate for answers, one thing I didn’t do was pray. I didn’t really know Jesus or how to talk with Him. Years later I started reading the Bible, and when I had read it just a little I came across this story. A man asks Jesus to save his son who is very sick. He says to Jesus,

²² And it has often thrown him both into fire and into water, intending to kill him. But if You can do anything, do have pity on us and help us.

²³ And Jesus said, [You say to Me], If You can do anything? [Why,] all things can be (are possible) to him who believes!

²⁴ At once the father of the boy gave [an ^[k]eager, ^[l]piercing, inarticulate] cry with tears, and he said, Lord, I believe! [Constantly] help my ^[m]weakness of faith!

Mark 9:22-24

I read that and felt the same as that father! What about you? That deep yearning inside, the eager, piercing, inarticulate cry with tears, pleading to Jesus “constantly help me with my unbelief, my weakness of faith!”

Do you know what Jesus did in response? Healed the son.

Listener, God is urging me to tell you, right now, how much He looks forward to spending time with you! The Bible says,

For we are God’s [own] handiwork (His workmanship), ^[d]recreated in Christ Jesus, [born anew] that we may do those good works which God predestined (planned beforehand) for us [taking paths which He prepared ahead of time], that we should walk in them [living the good life which He prearranged and made ready for us to live]. Ephesians 2 10

Are you excited to find out what God has been planning for you? Are you eager to learn about the good life He has made ready for you? Oh, He is thrilled to share it with you today!

God, I pray for the person listening right now, that you will encourage and lead them to a life rich in conversation with you. Show them, show me, the amazing impact and power of prayer with you. Help us to start now!

I hope you are encouraged, today!

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Discover extra content in the blog post – ORIENTATION!

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In March 2011 I entered prison and was placed in an orientation class. After 2 weeks I was given a job and prison life began. Life outside of prison continued for my family as well, and as I sought to redefine my role as a mom of 5 children I would also experience the loss of my grandmother.

I share my struggles with depression and how strict prison rules and challenging prison personalities affected me my first year. Are you overwhelmed? Are you experiencing a lot of changes in your life? Do you need strength to get through? I discuss steps we can take today to see us through to tomorrow.

TRANSCRIPT

I had believed I was a good person, but I sought to improve. Can you relate? I struggled with serious depression, making stability and holding a job challenging. I felt the weight of other people’s expectations. In prison I tried adjusting to a new normal, but I would learn entering prison wasn’t rock bottom. Life can get even worse. What does life look like before transformation? How can change happen for you? This is ORIENTATION (CHANGE, SHOCK & AWE, SUICIDE WATCH).

I’ve mentioned before that I didn’t realize I needed to change. What do I mean? I believed myself to be a good person or at least a person who understood what good is, even if I couldn’t do it consistently. If I could tell you what is right, doesn’t that make me …right?

Do you think of yourself as a good person? If you know what’s right, then are you right, even if you don’t do the right thing?

I had always been interested, though, in improving myself and my life. I didn’t need to change my beliefs; I wanted the skills to perform well!

One of my biggest struggles began in my teen years. I began to suffer from serious depression. I felt disinterested in things that gave other people joy. I was easily irritated.In a 2016 Psychology Today article by Gregg Henriques Ph.D. called The Behavioral Shutdown Theory of Depression, Dr. Henriques does an excellent job of explaining this enigma. He describes depression as a defensive strategy. If one sees little return on their behavioral or emotional investment eventually, they’ll lack the desire to expend that effort. In short – why do things that don’t work?

Medication helped, but it wasn’t a cure. I agonized about my failure to do things I saw people do every day. I was just barely surviving, even with meds. Eventually I was prescribed extremely high doses of anti-psychotics, anti-depressants and mood stabilizers. I believed my depression symptoms said ugly things about me and made me unlikable (or they would if people knew about them. I worked hard to rid myself of these symptoms and hide them. Fake it until you make it was a motto I lived by.

Does this sound familiar? You are not alone, and there is hope!

On my second day in prison, I was placed in an orientation class lasting 2 weeks. We were called R&O’s. One purpose of this class is to teach the rules and consequences of breaking the rules, consequences like LOPs (Loss of Privileges), DLOPs (Discipline Loss of Privileges), seg time (Solitary confinement), and UI (Unintended Idle). I had just become a guest of Acronym city. Nearby was Nickname village, Slang hamlet, Lingo settlement, and Jargon township.

Every inmate wears an OID badge. OID numbers are assigned the first time one is ever incarcerated. It never ever changes, even if one leaves prison and comes back for another crime. OID numbers tell a story- they tell you who’s new, who’s not, and who’s back.

On my second day of orientation a new R&O arrived named Ashley. Curiously her OID was slightly lower than mine, telling me she had been here a little longer than me, a week or so. Ashley looked to be about 20 years old, with long, light brown hair and sticks for arms and legs. Her skin was an olive-tan color nearly matching her hair. Most notably, she resembled my youngest son Tim to such a degree it bruised yet comforted my heart. She looked like his mother more than I did. I wondered why she was just now arriving at orientation.

Class started after breakfast and ended at 3 p.m. Our evenings and weekends were free. In our free time I longed to vanish to my room or call my children. As I made a get away from the dayroom, women behind me slapped themselves into chairs and wondered what to do with the rest of their day. I often heard Ashley call plaintively, “Does anyone want to play a game?”

The usual answer was no. Ashley’s outstretched, pleading arms would droop, then hugging herself Ashley’s imploring expression would change to a sorrowful, lonely one. This, too, reminded me of my youngest son Tim – he often begged his older brothers to play with him.I couldn’t take it; it was too pitiful. I wanted to hide in my room overwhelmed, but this was too much.

After our third day of class I remained in the dayroom to socialize. Ashley once again hopefully asked if anyone would like to play a game. She looked at each of us expectantly, waiting. Over the days her optimism had quietly faded from excitement to disappointment. I really didn’t feel like playing a game. She looked at each of us in turn, reading the answer in our averted eyes and silence. Her face began to fall. I took a deep breath, “I’ll play with you. What do you want to play?”

Surprise widened her eyes before they crinkled. She smiled, pulled her arms wide and leaned forward towards the table. “That’s great! I don’t care what we play. If it passes the time.” This was the beginning of our friendship.

As the days passed, she explained the mystery of her lower OID number and late arrival at orientation. When arriving at prison she had refused to speak at all. To anyone. For days. She was placed on suicide watch until she would talk. I later learned this is common. The trauma of arriving at prison can manifest in many ways.

In class my mind wandered. In the evenings I called my kids. I still felt present in their lives, as if this was a temporary arrangement. I would eagerly call to assure myself they were not just safe but behaving. “Moooom!” Lukas would bellyache on the phone, “Timmy is poking at Vivianne!” Screaming and arguing could be heard in the background.

“Put your brother on the phone,” I’d instruct. A clatter of the phone would follow, accompanied by stomping feet and the echo of Luke’s muffled voice somewhere nearby relaying the message, “Mom wants to talk to you….TIM!” Another clatter as the phone exchanged hands and I heard Timmy say, “Hi Mom,” with a hangdog note. Vivi continued to scream somewhere in the house.

“Tim? Have you been poking your sister?” I queried. I told them both to go to their rooms for a well-deserved break from each other. Then Tommy, my 10-year-old, picked up the phone. His little boy voice shook with loneliness and frustration as he described problems I couldn’t solve so easily, problems at school, problems with friends. I felt near tears, my heart heavy. Trying to soothe him I choked out, “I’m still here, Tommy! It’s not like I died!” In stunned silence we both listened to the words echo. it felt like I had just died. Tommy sobbed.

Later I spoke with Vivi. I had a plan for our talk. So did she. They were not the same. She had visited me when I was in county jail, but then I’d been released on bail. She thought those three months were my punishment. Why was I back in ‘jail’? That’s what she wanted to talk about. I, on the other hand, wished to apologize for oh, about a hundred different things.

Once on the phone I wasted no time apologizing. I started with being in prison. In her little girl-turned stern lecturer voice she scolded, “Yes mommy, but you keep doing it!” I barked a startled laugh. Then I explained better the situation. Soothed, Vivi was happy to talk about her day and learn more about mine. I told her I was going outside with friends to play after I finished with our phone call.

Once again, her tone of voice changed. Even at such an early age she must have found this an implausible prison activity. She challenged me, “No you’re not.” I insisted I was. She responded in her best grown-up, threatening voice, “If you’re going to continue to lie to me, I’m going to end this call!” Once again, I burst into shocked, delighted laughter.

Alone in my room later I would revisit my past with longing. Raising five children can be chaotic and busy, challenging. From the quiet solitude of prison, however, ordinary moments from my past took on a poignancy never felt before. What I wouldn’t give now for five minutes of my past life at the dinner table on an ordinary day! I yearned to tell one more bedtime story. I longed to push someone on a swing a few more times. I ached with loss. I cried for what would never be. I hated myself. I was angry and hurting.

After orientation graduation we were assigned a job and moved out of Broker. On a Thursday morning, I heard my name called over the PA system, “Aho, Staff Desk…..Aho, Staff Desk.” Over the last 2 weeks I had become familiar with that summons. Over the next 8 years I would hear it thousands and thousands of times.

Climbing out of my bunk I stepped out of my room. Before closing the door, I tapped my pants pocket and the front of my shirt. Having confirmed my keys were in my pocket and my badge was on my shirt, I shut the door and headed to the guard desk. This ritual, too, is one I would repeat thousands, millions of times, over the next 8 years. To forget either led to punishment.

At the staff/guard desk a female guard addressed me, “Ms. A-ho”, pronouncing my name wrong. The male guard sitting next to her must have known. He erupted into smiles when she said it. Then he turned to me and said, “Ms. Aho!” “I believe she just called you an A-ho!” Turning, he paused to watch the other guard’s reaction.

She was flushing deep red. Reeling back she struggled to compose herself. The other guard snickered. I waited, uncertain. Finally able to speak, she declared, “I’ve now forgotten why I called you here. Go to your room until I can recall.” The other guard roared with laughter.

Soon I was summoned again. I was being moved to Tubman. I wedged my meager belongings into two gray bins. I carefully signed out of Broker. Every building at Shakopee has a sign in book. Like the badge and keys ritual, signing in and out of these books at every building is mandatory and punishable if not done.

Depositing my bins on a wheeled cart, I rolled it down the walkway and across the property to Tubman.Yanking my cart up to the staff desk at Tubman, a white-haired guard rose to meet me. His name badge read, “Officer Lik.” In a voice loud and gruff he grilled, “Ever been to seg?”prison segregation is a special housing unit separated from the general population. Inmates most often go to seg for discipline.

Startled, I peered up in surprise. “N-No!” I stammered.“Want to go?” He hammered back.

Shocked again, I flung back another, “N-No!” uncertain. Satisfied, Mr. Lik turned to my paperwork and slid me new keys. In the months and years ahead, I would come to appreciate Officer Lik, but just then I saw him as the enemy.

I was surprised when I opened the door to my new room and found Sarah, an R&O from my class.

I noticed Sarah’s OID tag was a bright, cheerful shade of red. “Hey!” I remarked, suddenly jealous. Her flare of color was a bright spot in our gray world. “How did you get that?” I demanded. She smiled ruefully, understanding my need for girlish sparkle.

“I forgot to sign in,” she told me. “Sgt. Laabs gave me an LOP.” She explained her red tag signified her change in status. I determined then to never, ever, ever get in trouble for the slightest thing. Happily gabbing like old friends we fell to talking half the night.

Monday after lunch, I headed to work. I hated it! My job was packaging Mylar balloons. It reminded me of my family keeping my grief raw and constant. The balloons were for holidays and birthdays, or sported movie characters. I’d fold the balloons and cry. I was overwhelmed and missed days. Just one week after moving in with Sarah she was moved elsewhere. We said our goodbyes, and I received a new roommate.

One day later, I said goodbye to her, and I was placed in a bigger room at the entrance to a wing. A few days later I was delighted when Ashley became our newest roommate.I wanted to find creative ways to spend time with my children and avoid conflict with other women over so much phone use.

One solution was story reading before my children went to school. Going to the library I considered each of my children’s interests. Sliding a book off the shelf I read the back. It was a mystery novel. I imagined my son Luke might enjoy this book and decided it was a keeper. I looked forward to calling my children in the morning!

At 6:30 a.m. the next day we began. The hallway was dark. I tried to speak softly on the phone. After 15 minutes with each child, I would call back and read another book to my next child. One day a woman confessed she was sad to be moving. She awoke every morning to the sound of my reading and was engrossed in our books. She would miss it!

Life settled into a rhythm. I adjusted best I could I felt like, maybe I can do this. A month passed, two.But I was about to have my new normal shattered.Shakopee offered programs to its incarcerated women. These programs ranged from educational opportunities to early release. I was about to have an unwelcome surprise.

As a sex-offender I did not qualify for any of these programs. Also, I would not have contact visits with my own children at first.I was completely unprepared for this. For some reason, my caseworker was surprised that I was surprised. I cried and cried in her office. I was even angry and in denial, like this just couldn’t be true. That also surprised my caseworker.

My caseworker explained that there was an appeal process I could and steps I could take to help me successfully win those appeals. One of the steps would be to take parenting classes.my balloon job interfered with taking the classes. I would need to find a new job. I was eager to do this!

Soon a clerking position was advertised in Shakopee’s “Memo of the Day.” I applied, was interviewed and hired. I immediately signed up for the class.Shakopee’s visiting room is kid friendly. Mothers play with their children, read them books, and color with them. The walls are decorated with their works of art. Windows with mesh are along one wall. Each window faces a small room. These windows and rooms were for non-contact visits. Tall chairs were for visitors.

My children found it fun to sit so much higher than everyone else. Vivi took the window as a personal finger-painting challenge, not leaving an inch of it unsmudged. As she talked, she swirled her hands over the glass, her eyebrows pursed in concentration, looking for clean spots she may have missed.

In June I was assigned to another room, another roommate. I was about to meet Janna. Sgt. Laabs, the officer in charge of Tubman, believed Janna to be a discipline problem and I was about to become guilty by association.

Janna was in her early thirties, with medium brown hair and a nervous laugh that rarely met her eyes. Her body was usually filled with anxious energy. Pacing, her steps eating up the tile, she’d stomp away her thoughts until released from her room to perform this ritual in the dayroom or courtyard. Sgt. Laabs adored quiet solitude; he hated agitation. Janna was a pebble in his shoe.

I saw Janna as an energetic new friend, friendly and inclusive. I sat with her and her friends in the dayroom. Oblivious that Sgt. Laabs had a fervent love for cathedral quiet. I laughed like I was on the show Hee-Haw. Sgt. Laabs solved this problem by LOPing us to death. Now, I was rarely without the red LOP tag.

Grief would find a new way to hit home when Mid-August I called my oldest son Noel. He gave me terrible news. My grandmother had passed away. What a shock. this news didn’t feel real at all. It’s difficult to accept traumatic news when there’s no traditional closure. I would forget that I couldn’t call her and only remember when I reached the phone.

By September I’d received so many LOPs I was headed for a more serious form of discipline. I was sent to see the head of discipline. “How do you wish to explain all of these LOPs?” she demanded.

“I don’t deserve half of them,” I responded truthfully. “Sgt Laabs hates my roommate.”

The discipline lady remained impassive. “Why not go to your room early? Why are you remaining in the day room until the last minute?”

I burst into tears. I accused, “You’re mean! This place is mean! I’ve been grounded for months my grandma just died, and you aren’t helpful at all!!” I blew my nose loudly and sank into my chair.

Have you ever been treated unfairly? How did you respond? How did it feel?

Looking panicked, she leaned back in her chair and braced her hands on her desk. “Would you like me to call the chaplain?” she offered.“No,” I whispered, crying. Soon I collected myself and left.It would get worse. In October my husband took our 4 younger children and moved out of Minnesota, 3000 miles away to Washington state.

I was placed on suicide watch.

Can you relate to a need for personal change? Are you struggling to succeed?

Have you experienced depression or other mental health challenges?

Are you overwhelmed, burnt out, run down and looking for real help?

God says in the Bible

¹³ [Not in your own strength] for it is God Who is all the while ^[j]effectually at work in you [energizing and creating in you the power and desire], both to will and to work for His good pleasure and satisfaction and ^[k]delight. Phil 2:13

But those who wait for the Lord [who expect, look for, and hope in Him] shall change and renew their strength and power; they shall lift their wings and mount up [close to God] as eagles [mount up to the sun]; they shall run and not be weary, they shall walk and not faint or become tired. Isaiah 41:1

How do we get this strength? Jesus says:

Keep on asking and it will be given you; keep on seeking and you will find; keep on knocking [reverently] and [the door] will be opened to you.

Matthew 7:8

For everyone who keeps on asking receives; and he who keeps on seeking finds; and to him who keeps on knocking, [the door] will be opened.

Isaiah 60:1 “Arise from the depression and prostration in which circumstances have kept you—rise to a new life! (AMPC version)

God, I pray for the person listening right now. I pray you meet their every need in this moment. Amen

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Discover extra content in the blog post – BAIL, SENTENCING & PRISON INTAKE!

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Imagine your life on hold for a year, every day another day closer to a prison sentence. I might get only probation. Or I could get a 12 or even 30 year prison sentence. I pled guilty. Sentencing was up to the judge. The wait was terrible; the outcome was devastating. This is bail, sentencing, and prison intake.

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Credits:

Music from #Uppbeat:
https://uppbeat.io/t/braden-deal/exertion
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https://uppbeat.io/t/philip-anderson/lost-souls
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https://uppbeat.io/t/monument-music/notes-from-the-past
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https://uppbeat.io/t/dan-phillipson/making-progress
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https://uppbeat.io/t/hey-pluto/the-summit
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https://uppbeat.io/t/all-good-folks/one-moment-in-time
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https://uppbeat.io/t/all-good-folks/a-beautiful-mind
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https://uppbeat.io/t/dan-phillipson/making-progress
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Discover extra content in the blog post – JAIL!

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In 2010, I was arrested. I felt like the problem in my family, their strong beliefs made me feel like a failure.

Have you ever disappointed someone? How did it make you feel? These are the questions I had as I went through the jail’s intake process.

I felt really lonely and sad, even unable to cry. Life before this was busy, but now I was stuck and powerless.

The next weeks were about writing letters and waiting for mail, getting a letter felt special.

Eliza, who seemed like someone I wouldn’t connect with, surprised me. She promised to write me, and her letters became my support. She was the first of many unexpected friends who changed how I saw the world.

In this episode I’ll talk about unexpected friendships, and how everything can change. This is “Jail”.

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Credits:
Music from #Uppbeat
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