Beauty on the Backroads

Stories of grace for life's unexpected turns

faith & spirituality

Why it's been a little quiet around here

Twice in the last two days, I’ve been the recipient of quiet time. As I write, my husband has whisked the children away to the barbershop (for him) so I can have some quiet in the house time before the dinner/homework/bath/bed routine sucks the life out of me. This quiet solitude is usually a luxury, though I had a few blessed hours to myself yesterday as well, also unexpected. (And I wrote almost 1,500 words on my novel and maybe, just maybe, can see the faintest glimpse of the end!)

Quiet is something I crave but not often something I get.

And the last few weeks have been more full than normal. Which is why I’ve been a little more quiet on the blog than I intended.

But I realized that I left you with this look at my sometimes messy world with no follow-up, and I didn’t want to cause any alarm. Later that week, I came down with a sinus/head cold thing that put me behind in preparing for house guests and a six-year-old’s birthday party. Understandably, the blog slipped off the “to do” list.

I never stopped blogging in my head, though. I probably “wrote” a dozen posts while going through my daily life duties, and none of those will see the light of day. Maybe, though, I have a few spare thoughts to share. I realize it’s okay to disappear for a while, but writing (and blogging) are life-giving to me, and I’ve missed the chance to regularly share what’s in my head.

—

So, the girl turned 6, and the celebration lasted a week, and I can still remember her entrance into the world and the countless ways she changed us forever. To see her now, at 6, in all her emotions and feelings and zest for life, I’m reminded how quickly the days and years pass and how much of what we see in her now is what we will see in her years from now. Oh, how I dream about the ways God will use her unique (and utterly foreign to me) personality.

And speaking of personalities, I took a personality test for the first official time. It’s part of a leadership development small group at our church, and though I suspected certain things about the way I operate in the world, the test and its results were eye-opening. Shocking, really. Not because they didn’t make sense but because they did. Knowing my natural inclinations when it comes to living in the world helps me not to feel bad that I’m not like other people and makes me aware of areas where I can stretch myself a little more. (Oh, and if you’re into that sort of thing, I’m an INFJ.)

—

It snowed today. And I’m ready for spring. This is our first spring in this house, so it’s been a fun game to see where the flowers are going to come up. The kids skip around the house and yell excitedly when they spot a new bud or bloom. I’ve never been terribly “green” when it comes to plants and gardening, but I want my kids to love the outdoors and nature and to know how to take care of it. So, this year, we’re going to start small and try a few things.

—

A bunch of balloons landed in our driveway today. And when I say a bunch, think grapes on a vine. The purple-blue-green bundle blew into our yard and settled next to our neighbor’s porch. I looked out the window and exclaimed to our son, “Corban, what is that?” My husband rescued the balloons and brought them inside. (I really hope they weren’t on their way to a birthday party. We live on a busy street and would have no idea how to track down the owner.) Sometimes joy is like this. An unexpected burst of color and fun in the midst of your ordinary day. I want to be this for people and look for this in my day.

—

For every birthday my kids have had so far, I’ve made them a cake according to the theme they request. Some years have turned out better than others. This year, she wanted an Ariel cake. I’ve already done the doll with a bowl cake skirt so I wanted to do something different. I wandered the craft stores looking for inspiration (after spending significant time on Pinterest) and this was the result.

Izzy cake 6th

I frequently tell people I’m not crafty because I have not a lot of patience for kids’ rainbow looms and Pinteresty things that look fun but would probably drive me crazy. But wandering through an arts and crafts store revived my creativity. I could almost feel the possibilities in there. Everything in there has the potential to become something beautiful, and no two people would create the exact same thing, even if they had identical supplies.

When I’m feeling stuck in my writing or maybe even just a little hopeless about life, I think I’ll wander the arts and crafts aisles, even if I don’t intend to buy anything.

So, what have you been up to?

The one time I went to prison

On the outskirts of my hometown, on 400 acres of land sets an imposing building surrounded by barbed wire fencing.

It’s the largest medium security prison in Illinois, housing more than 2,000 adult men. It opened five years after I was born, so I can’t remember ever not knowing about it. It’s out of the way of regular traffic patterns, so if you don’t want to drive by it, you don’t have to. I’ve always thought it odd that the country club is on the same road, not even a mile away. Could two worlds be more different and yet so close in proximity?

Also not far from the prison is a neighborhood of low-income housing, built for the families who move to the area to be near their incarcerated loved ones.

The Dixon Correctional Center is on some of the most beautiful property in the county. A wooded bike path passes the backside of the property. Years ago, before it was a prison, it was a colony for epileptics, then an institution for the mentally ill and a school for people with developmental disabilities. I don’t know as much about its history as I’d like to, and I’ve maybe even gotten it wrong now. But I know that I feel sad and hopeless when I look at the building.

And I’m just on the outside.

—

“Want to go to prison with me?”

The man who asked was a friend and mentor, a Bible study leader who spent at least one Saturday a month teaching a Bible study in the prison. It was one of his favorite things to do, and he wanted me to go with him.

No.Yes.NO.Whynot?Okay.

That was what happened in my mind. I was working as a journalist and I almost never passed up an opportunity to do something I’d never done before. But go to prison? I didn’t know if I could do it, even if my friend was going to be there the whole time.

We met in the parking lot. I almost wet my pants just driving onto the property, certain that I’d mess something up and find myself in some kind of trouble. Because I was a good girl. I avoided trouble like contagious disease. I’d never even had a speeding ticket. The one time I’d had to go to detention in elementary school, I was physically sick about it.

Because I could do no wrong. So I thought.

But there I was. Entering a prison. Metal detector, pat down and all.

I was nervously excited. Maybe a little scared.

All these years later, I barely remember that day. But I know the fear faded. I was welcomed by the men who came for Bible study. They were genuinely glad to meet me and to see my friend. They had wisdom and experience to share. They were people. People who had made mistakes and were paying for those mistakes but people nonetheless.

Reading this book reminded me of that experience and reignited something in me. Something I’m still trying to identify.

—

Our church is partnering with another church during Lent to focus on injustice in the prison system. You can find out more here. I read the compact yesterday and the first day’s devotional, and I’m appalled at my ignorance. I have little firsthand knowledge of the injustice in the justice system. I know it’s not a perfect system, but there’s more to it than that.

What I appreciate about this Lenten compact is the emphasis on restorative justice, or giving convicted felons another chance at life outside of prison. It’s no easy road, from what I’ve read. In the book I referenced earlier, the author learned that women released from prison in Alabama are given $10, a polo shirt and pants, and a bus ticket back to the place where they committed the crime. And with that, they’re supposed to make a fresh start. Think even of movies like Les Miserables and The Shawshank Redemption. Those aren’t just stories. There’s truth in them.

That prison I mentioned earlier in my hometown? According to the Illinois Department of Corrections, it costs almost $24,000 a year on average per inmate to house them. To me, that ought to be serious motivation to examine how we rehabilitate, who we sentence and what happens when they leave prison. I absolutely understand it’s a complicated issue full of challenges I can’t even imagine.

But, can we do better?

—

Lent is a season of fasting and preparation for the death and resurrection of Jesus, who came to free us from the chains of death and sin.

Because we are all in prisons, some of them self-imposed, and He offers freedom to us all.

The Lenten Compact begins with readings in the psalms regarding confession of sin and appealing to God’s mercy.

Because we are sinners. And He is merciful.

And we who have been shown mercy are to show mercy.

I confess: this Lenten Compact made me uncomfortable at first. I already felt unprepared for Lent this year, like I hadn’t given it much thought, but maybe that’s okay. Maybe all I need to do is show up and let God lead me through the season, then take appropriate action. I have no idea what that will look like.

But I’ve already been to prison once, so who’s to say it won’t happen again?