This week I got to experience an unusual amount of joy during my visit to the York County prison. A young woman I’ve been visiting this summer, who had a preliminary court date in July, and was scheduled for a follow-up in October, sat down with me, and with a huge smile on her face said, “I’ve come to say goodbye. I’m getting out of here!!!” It seems she had submitted all her paperwork, so her court date was moved up, bail was set, and everything moved faster than she had anticipated. The next 30 minutes were an expression of pure joy I’ve never quite observed or felt before.
She could hardly believe the freedom that awaited her.
A coworker of her brother’s had acted as her sponsor, and he was coming to post her bail and to pick her up (I’ve learned over the last few months that lawyers, money for bail, and sponsors are all really critical things to have if one is detained and trying to fight for their freedom).
During one of our visits together she talked at length about her one deep desire to drink a coca-cola. I asked her about it yesterday, and she added, “Oh, and a bottle of water.” Thinking it a curious addition, I asked her why water? She said, “everything here tastes like chlorine, but thanks be to God that we have had things to eat and drink.”
The second part of her statement made me smile. She was so full of joy that she couldn’t even complain without being thankful as well. She expressed gratitude for all the women of the group who came and spent time with her. “You will never know how significant it is for us to have someone to talk to who is on the outside,” she said.
This comes at a time when our group has just received this press release from the Advancement Project about what the inside of the York County prison looks like. Many of us were surprised about the findings, because when we visit, we try not to ask probing questions about conditions, but allow for the inmates to share what they want. And in my experience, people want to remember life outside of imprisonment, whether it’s happy memories from the past, or brave dreams of the future.
Our job, as visitors, is to hold those things, for however long they need held. It was such a gift to hold the joy of being set free. To be reminded that life in its simplest form (the gift of eating what you choose to, of sleeping in the dark (because in prison they sleep with lightbulbs in their faces), of going to the bathroom in private) connects me to my own freedom, which is tied to the freedom of prisoners. It also gives me another layer for exploring my faith, and new meaning to Luke 4:18, “The Spirit of the Lord has sent me to proclaim release of the captives and recovery of sight to the blind, to let the oppressed go free.”
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