My Day in Prison. Part 2 or maybe part 12

This is a bit of a part 2 to my last post about my day in court…or maybe it’s a part 12 who knows?  It’s more of my story, and I’m still trying to figure out how it all fits together.

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I went to that prison hoping for something, longing for something that was about as possible as setting up a vacation cabin on Mars.

We always do that don’t we?  Miserable humans we are, trying hard to make our fantasies and deepest longings come true for ourselves.  We whip these lies into submission until they become a crystal clear reality in our squishy brain folds.

But then, actual reality.  The cruelty of truth creeps in warning us to never do that again.  And we don’t.  For at least 3 weeks.

The first time I longed, really longed I was 16.  I’d driven 4.5 hours with my Auntie to visit my Dad in prison.  I wrote the other day over on A Deeper Family how I’d sent him there six years earlier and still carried an enormous sense of guilt.  I simply couldn’t wait for him to put that to rest.  I longed for his invitation for me to share how hurt and how scared I’d been without him.  I practiced what I’d say when he profusely apologized.  What my fantasy did not include was hearing him tell his sister that he shouldn’t be in prison at all.  But then I hadn’t conceived of anything that happened that day…

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You can read the rest of this post over on A Deeper Story: Tales of Christ & Culture.