page i
Copyright 1997
This book is not an official publication
of the Church of Jesus Christ
of Latter Day Saints.
All opinions expressed
in this book are the authors
and not necessarily
those of the church
or any other group.
Timothy L Prince
(a pseudonym)
By submitting to
God’s will
I become a prince.
page ii
Ponder these things.
Tim has shared his writings freely.
If you know him or
anyone else in this story,
Please do as Mary did
that original Christmas
as she silently
“pondered them in her heart.”
Dedicated to Bro Ammon.
(Not his real name)
He is part of this story.
His words in an institute class
started these heartfelt events.
page iii
Preface
This story proposes that God loves all his children. Christ loves each one of us unconditionally. Even those in prison who have committed heinous crimes are able to feel his love. In the scriptures some very miraculous experiences happened to prophets who were in prison. I do not imply there are any prophets in this story. I do not proclaim that great miracles take place in this story. Miracles do not need to be earthshaking. For me perhaps the greatest miracle God has ever performed is opening the hardened heart of this vile sinner to human feelings.
Those of any faith or denomination could be inspired by what is in these pages. Truths found in this story are universal. I state and use the fact that the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter day Saints is my choice for my church. I even considered taking out the fact that it concerned a particular denomination. My strong beliefs in the truths of the Mormon Church, and the institute class being of that faith influenced my decision. The two verses on page 12 that refer to forgiveness of ones self are from the Book of Mormon. Universal truths of Christ’s love and forgiveness are left in the story. A few teachings peculiar to the LDS church are here. I chose to leave these things in. I hope this will not keep anyone from feeling my gratitude to any servant from any church or group who cares enough to reach behind bars to touch the lives of incarcerated men and women.
page iv
My hope is that this story gives, to those who read it, hope and new insights into what Christmas Gifts can really mean when heartstrings are touched with real human feelings. Giving of ones self is the greatest gift anyone can give. We do not know as mere mortals how much things we consider little can affect the lives of ourselves or others.
Names in this story are not the real names. Dialogue is fictional. The basic story though is true. If you know Tim or any of the other men in the story, please do as Mary did at the manger that first Christmas as she “kept all these things, and pondered them in her heart.” (Luke 2:19) There may be some who love these men who would not want their real names known.
Lord knows each of us by name
page v
Chapter 1
A Real Christmas?
It all began with frustration on a Christmas eve morning. I am reminded that I am not free. Some of the other men and I are faced with a feeling of disappointment. I was trying out for a new job that might help with future plans. We were confined and it appeared no one would be going. There seemed to be no hope of help. It was Christmas Eve and it seemed no one would help us. At least the ones who could just did not seem to care.
Frustrations will perhaps be partially understood as you hear more of the setting and who the men are who live with me.
I want to tell you of a remembered heartfelt Christmas. One I will never forget. You will wonder as the story begins, as I did, how this could be possible. I doubted as I was told it could happen. Surely nothing in this environment could happen to bring Christmas joy.
It even began with a hopeless frustration of not going to what I expected to be a job interview on Christmas Eve morning. ------
Facts about the place I live seem important before I tell the story.
page 1
Let me introduce a special man. Bro Ammon teaches the institute class for the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints. The church I hope someday will again be my Church. You see I have been excommunicated. Almost all of us here who have been affiliated with the church have been excommunicated or at the very least been dis-fellowshipped.
Bro. Ammon must pass through two locked doors that clang shut one at a time and have his materials inspected by guards as he comes each day to teach our class. Still he never fails to bring a very special spirit to our class. We can feel the Christ like unconditional love he has for us.
En-route to his class we go down a long hall in what is called the “Big House”. Each one of us here wears a number above his left pocket. The number can tell you how long it has been since he entered the “Big House.” If he leaves and then returns he gets his old number back. Lower numbers have been here longer. We get to the classrooms by going through the old chapel. The classrooms are along each side. As we enter the chapel a feeling of entering a sanctuary is real. No longer can you smell the smoke filled rooms or hear the swearing slurs or loud insults of motherhood.
This particular classroom is long and quite narrow. It is a tight fit to fit four rows of desks across the room. The blackboard seems a long way off from the back row that is seven seats back of the front row.
page 2
We take our seats in what are just folding chairs with writing surfaces. When Bro. Ammon speaks we listen. We feel the genuine love he radiates. That is something that is seldom felt from the others that we come in contact with on a daily basis. Some of these other people like Bro Ammon do live outside the razor wire topped chain link fences overlooked by guard towers where we live but most of them just seem to enjoy controlling us. Most of us who live here in prison are so consumed with hate that any real feelings are hidden. Feelings may be so hidden they are almost extinguished.
My whole being rebelled when I heard Bro Ammon’s words in this classroom. “This could be your best Christmas ever,” or “even your most special Christmas.”
These are the words of God’s servant. Did Bro Ammon really understand what he had just said? I must say I have seen some of God’s miracles here, but “the most special Christmas ever,” here within the walls of the State Prison? How could that ever be? How could a real Christmas be experienced in Prison?
I can remember so many Christmases. I have a large family of over a half dozen children. Most are boys. We would go to the mountains near the small town where we lived with a chain saw. There we would search as a family for just the right tree. The last several years we went with friends, another large family. How could we have such a personal Christmas tree here? We would bring the tree home and put lights on it that pulsed on and off. It was in a stand that we put water in to keep the tree from drying out. Any one who passed would see it through the large window of the house we had built seven years before. The tree was almost a sharing member of the family. Every member added to it and shared in it’s glory. In the next room, the kitchen we would spend many hours baking cookies and making candy. We had marvelous memories and honored traditions.
page 3
Surely Christmas away from everything I loved, behind bars, locked doors and grey concrete walls could not be more real than those memories.
I have lost everything. My career, my church membership, my lovely new home, my pick up truck and sleeper, my little van, my land, my hunting and my fishing. Hunting is lost forever since felons cannot have guns.
I have lost my family togetherness and the fun I had with them.
“Or have I”
My family I must admit, has been one of the miracles I have seen while here. My wife Vivian still cares. They are all behind me pulling for me to repent and come back. Faith that I can use the greatest gift ever given is becoming stronger:
18. Come now, and let us reason together, saith the LORD: though your sins be as scarlet, they shall be as white as snow; though they be red like crimson, they shall be as wool.
19. If ye be willing and obedient, ye shall eat the good of the land:
page 4
Chapter 2
I live here
The whole front of my little cell,2 ceiling to floor, is iron bars. The vertical round bars are intersected at three locations by horizontal flat bars. The Middle bar is about waist high and is where our supplies are put when they are given to us. A sliding door that is controlled by the guards is part of the bar area. Two bunk beds an upper and a lower are bolted through the wall to bunks in the next cell. There is approximately a two to three foot space between the lower bunk and the desk that is against the other wall. A foot locker for each of the men is stored under the lower bunk. In the corner of the cell is a toilet and a small sink. The combined unit is a cold stainless steel fixture.
On the wall above the desk is a bulletin board. We have a few thumb tacks but my family photographs are glued to an 8 1/2 X 11 sheet of paper with toothpaste. It surprised me how well toothpaste works as a glue. Sadly though many of the things I saw stuck to the walls of cells were pornographic.
All the other men on my tier, or row of cells are also part of this Christmas story. There are white collar criminals, robbers, sex offenders, and murderers. The thing that may make us a little unique is that we are in a program. I live with inmates who care or at least are appearing to attempt to work on problems that put us here. We are trying to admit faults and work through our problems toward change in therapy.
page 5
Still much of the environment around me seems evil. Prison is not pleasant. It is not supposed to be. Try to imagine how you would feel if the next time you kneel in prayer by the side of your bed with someone you care about, you hear from nearby rooms shouted vulgarities that are part of life in so many places. Sounds of swearing and loud laughter are all around as we pray.
My cell mate is a true friend. Like me Gordi has a fairly strong testimony of our Savior, Jesus Christ. Shared spiritual feelings give the desires to kneel in prayer by the side of our bed and softly share our prayer each night together before he climbs into his bunk for the night.
"It will be our time in a few minutes," I hear Gordi say.
"I am just grateful, I answer, "to have someone that I can kneel with as I talk to my Savior."
It is bedtime. Cell doors loudly clang shut for the night. The officers walk by and count each one of us. They lock us down for a count at intervals throughout the day as well as during the night.
Now comes the time we can finally say our prayers. Gordi and I kneel beside the bottom bunk, my bunk, and pray.
Gordi and Tim
page 6
I will never become used to trying to shut out what goes on around us, but at least I can pray. There have been times and places since I came to prison that I could only pray silently in my mind as I lay on my bunk. I would not only be putting the church and myself up to vulgar ridicule. I would be opening myself up to physical harm, Perhaps even a crude knife, a "shank," in my back.
Without saying a word Gordi knells down. I follow him.
After we are knelling he begins, "I believe it is my turn."
a brief silence follows; "Our Father --- "
"Hey chuck!" This came from 3 rooms down the tier.
"What the %*& do you want, Tom;”. came the reply from right next door.
"May thy will be --- "
"Are you looking at that slut you've got pasted --- "
"We are so thankful for --- "
"mind your own !*%#$$& business."
"Forgive us of our --- "
"Hey Frank can I borrow a Cigarette?"
"In the Name of Jesus Christ, Amen."
As the noise continues, it is now time to silently pour out what is in our individual hearts to God of our desires for better future times; to personally thank him for our blessings, and ask for some special blessing for our families.
page 7
How could any beneficial Christmas happen here where we cannot even pray without vulgarity around us.
I had stopped and thought about it after I had heard Bro. Ammon's promise.
During the next few days I had even prayed that it might be possible. I wrote a Christmas Poem. This would become a new Christmas Tradition for me. I thought about my blessings.
A month ago I had listened to a talk by Bro. John Groberge of the first Quorum of the seventy. "in Christ there is always hope"4 was the message. It had helped me through thanksgiving.
With the strengthening message of hope, redemption, and forgiveness, as well as the strength and support from my family I am ok. In my own heart a change seems to be taking place.
I am just stubborn enough that nothing comes fast. I was feeling some of the joy experienced by Enos (Enos 8). Addicted to instant gratification as I am, I'm sure I can feel only part of what real feelings are during these first steps. Tears of joy however are there. Some of the guilt is eased. Perhaps even some of what Alma felt at his marvelous conversion:
I remembered also to have heard ---
page 8
17 And it came to pass that as I was thus racked with torment, while I was harrowed up by the memory of my many sins, behold, I remembered also to have heard my father prophesy unto the people concerning the coming of one Jesus Christ, a Son of God, to atone for the sins of the world.
18 Now, as my mind caught hold upon this thought, I cried within my heart: O Jesus, thou Son of God, have mercy on me, who am in the gall of bitterness, and am encircled about by the everlasting chains of death
19 And now, behold, when I thought this, I could remember my pains no more; yea, I was harrowed up by the memory of my sins no more.
20 And oh, what joy, and what marvelous light I did behold; yea, my soul was filled with joy as exceeding as was my pain!
Alma 36:17-20
I found some friends. Christ as a friend was most important and finding new love and trust for Him. I was gaining more understanding of his unconditional love. There were beginnings to seeing how it encompasses everything, and is completely unquestioning. We can only not feel it when we turn off the spiritual channel. Christ is my friend but my faith is still so weak.
You have already met another friend, Gordi my cellmate. He has a large family who comes to visit him. They are supporting him. He has more daughters than I have sons. His salesmanship abilities are very evident.
page 9
As my Christmas story continues you will meet other friends.
This special Christmas has many building blocks but none of them on Christmas Day would involve tangible family Gifts.
They would however all teach me to feel more deeply. I would learn more about what Christmas really means, and more about what a miracle Christ's atonement is. This gift only Christ was good enough and selfless enough to freely give to each of us.
page 10
Chapter 3
Now The Beginning
--- Now we are again back at page 1 the stories beginning.
It all began with frustration on Christmas eve morning. Some of the other men and I were faced with disappointment. I was trying out for a new job that could help with future plans. We are confined and it appears like no one will be going. There seems to be no hope. It was Christmas Eve and no one would help us. If anyone could they just did not seem to care enough to try.
I was depressed as I went back to my cell. Perhaps you can see that "self pity" is one of my problems I am working on.
Why didn't any of the guards care. I was good, as usual, at wallowing in self pity for the next couple of hours.
Then finally, there came the announcement that we could go. Another minor miracle was happening. Something had happened to soften the heart of the guard to recheck for a clearance or could it be that something else may have caused a delay? Could some unexpected gift be coming?
page 11
What was coming was the first sharing gift of love I would feel this Christmas.
At the place where I was trying for the new job, They turned out to have a party. I was not aware of it until I arrived. I hope the following gift seems small to you, for it means you have freedom. We cannot just go out for pizza or a hamburger or Chicken at any brand name restaurant or fast food chain. The employers had brought two of these.
"Hey this is nice," said one of the guys.
When I went through the line, one of the favorites, the Colonel’s chicken was gone. I could enjoy the Pizza, but one of the gifts seemed unreachable. Then a friend noticed I did not have chicken.
"Tim, you need some chicken."
He shared his chicken with me. It was even my favorite part, a breast.
"I sure appreciate it," I said.
Last week in exchange for some candy, I bought a small bag of popcorn for him. My small gift was being returned now in a way that from what I was feeling is more than words can express. Giving caring and loving can come back to you, even here in prison. This seemed even truer now for I had not expected or even hoped for more in return.
I did not get the job. I could not type fast enough or accurately enough. Those skills would relate in other ways though to my future.
page 12
Chapter 4
A Visit
Visitors to men in prison show love by simply putting up with what they must to get to see us. They must go through an electric scanner and then leave some things outside the prison. Then they are required to wait while the inmate is sent for. Sometimes that takes a while. Once while I was in Bro Ammon's class the Guards did not get me and my sister was stood up. I did not show up. She finally gave up and left.
Of course it is more humiliating for the inmate. That is expected and probably necessary. Each one is physically searched on the way to the visit. After the visit it is a "strip search."
My entire family, except for one sister, was there in the visiting room waiting to share a part of Christmas Eve with me.
The visiting room is one large room with hard chairs to sit in. There is no privacy at all. Guards are always watching and other inmates are all around you with their visitors. The room has the constant noise of the conversations of all the various groups gathered around men in prison blue trying to give them a little touch of Christmas. I could hear Gordi and his family singing Christmas carols over in the corner. This would again be important on Christmas Day.
page 13
In some way I hoped to be able to share what was in my heart. In a short personal interview I took each child aside and asked each about their goals and what they were giving. What were their gifts to each other? Then as a group we discussed the giving of Jesus. All have sinned. Because of Him, even those like Dad, who are guilty of serious crimes, have hope.
I learned of two great gifts my family had received this Christmas Eve.
The first I had learned of in a letter I received earlier that day. With my paycheck gone and my wife’s paycheck small, money for my bills is just not there. One of my Bills had grown partly because of a computer purchase and partly because of car problems, including car accidents and replacement vehicles. It was worrying me. I had sent a letter asking them to be as lenient as possible.
I had gone to these people after I had been arrested and explained possible problems with payments. In the letter they agreed to stop charging interest until I was out of prison and able to pay them. As worried as I am about my family, it brought tears of joy to my eyes. I have caused my family so much pain. Such kindness in today’s world of business greed is rare.
page 14
The second miracle I was told about by Vivian. I have also been praying for a miracle for my son. He passed very few classes in school last year. He could not face school. He is a bright student but emotional stress got to him causing physical illness and throwing up. Vivian said that school officials have worked out a way to get his credits in an alternative school at home.
Hope for a brighter future and a solution for success was here. Oh the goodness of God. I have been praying for this very miracle. Seeds are planted leading to a future career, which would even be on the honor role in post secondary training.
The visit is over too fast. Even before the visit is over, I feel the emptiness and loneliness. This is my first Christmas behind bars. It will be several years before I can again be with my family for the opening of Christmas gifts or the sharing of the first Christmas from the Bible.
page 15
Chapter 5
Preparing Gifts
After returning to the tier, Franz met us at our room. Franz is tall. He is very artistic, with ability to give a "few bucks” for Christmas by creating play money with reindeer drawings on them. He has created many humorous envelopes and Christmas cards we can buy from him to send to friends and family on the outside.
"I think it is time to hang your stockings, Santa can't come until you're ready." Franz's smile was very large.
"I believe you are right," Gordi replied. His smile was a knowing grin. We were being set up by a friend who wanted to play Santa. We each got one of our prison issued socks. Franz grabbed them and hung them on our bulletin board for us.
"That looks more like Christmas Eve," he said.
Then after a pause he continued. "Joe over on the other tier asked me to send you over to talk to him about something."
We knew we were likely being sent on a "wild goose chase" just to be rid of us for a moment, but we went.
When we arrived at Joe's cell we were not surprised that he did not know what we were talking about. We were able to explain to Joe, "We have been set up for a Santa helper visit." Joe would be part of our story later as we decorate. After delaying our return for a few minutes we returned to our cell.
page 16
"Guess what, Santa has come early." laughed Gordi as we entered.
The stamped envelope with a turtle whose tongue was hanging out was lovably poking out of the top of my red and black striped sock. Giving has happened again.
"Yes," I replied. "Even in prison there are many friends who care."
Gordi and I prayed that night that our families would have a Merry Christmas. Our prayers were answered but the wonderful kindnesses shown to them is another story.
We had drawn names on our tier to exchange gifts, fourteen of us giving to each other. I drew randolph's name. Randolph is a jolly old elf with a Santa figure. He has a bald head and no beard to cover the double chin. I care about him as much as I do Gordi.
I had been preparing the gift for several days. It was a labor of Christ like love. I wrote a poem especially for him but decided that I liked a poem I wrote for my son better. This son is the one who had already been a part of the Christmas Eve gift. A part of the poem fit my neighbor's situation as he neared intensive parole or something similar.
page 16
Using my own artistic gift, I scratch reverse image shapes off of mirrors to make whatever designs I want. The tool is a wooden handle with a needle like tip. The area to be colored is scratched out so you can see through the glass. In this case the shapes are the reverse letters of the poem done in a simple calligraphic font. I put all 8 lines in three inches.
After painting it I was reluctantly convinced that I, in my hurry had missed a lot of the little flecks that are more noticeable with the paint in place. The letters are so small my fingers are sore. I scrubbed the paint off however and found and removed all those little spots. It was hectic but I got them all. I had Gordi and Franz look to see if they could see any more. I then repainted it and put the tin foil on the back so it would sparkle.
At our commissary everything we buy is handed out in brown paper bags. That was my only gift wrap. The Salvation Army mug that I had gotten Christmas morning had a green ribbon. I cut the ribbon and taped it to the corners of the brown paper bag I had wrapped around the mirror to make it look more like a Christmas Gift.
page 17
I pondered two ideas as I went to sleep. The first was a stuffer for Gordi's stocking. Yes I am a procrastinator. I had bought a bit of honey candy bar so I wrote a poem for his family. His family had shared their home evening in the chapel with me a few weeks ago. There was thankfulness in my heart for the special feelings they gave me. I stuffed the letter containing the poem and the candy bar.
We did not have a tree. There seemed no way to have a tree for our residence. There was one in the culinary but it was not really one that belonged to the people here on my tier.
The second idea forming in my mind after I had turned out the light was a personal tree. One thing we are furnished is writing paper. Perhaps I could make a tree out of paper. It was white so it would already be flocked. Never mind that the paper was lined on one side. Taped together and fanned in a circle, and spaced with scotch tape it would become a three dimensional tree.
Early next morning I set to work. The finished tree was 12 inches high and about that wide. I was almost finished when our tier got ready for the gift exchange.
randolph remember
randolph remember; you are unique.
no one else has your special peak.
look deep within; throw away your fears.
all men have doubts, so face bold your fears.
randolph remember, the word is belief.
learn who you are; accept no defeat.
a mission you have to help others find.
remember you can; prepare your mind.
10” wide and 3 “ high; this is Randolph’s poem. Picture in your mind
the letters in “brilliant orange” as they were on the mirror.
page 20
Chapter 6
Gifts
We had drawn names to exchange gifts. I am standing with the rest of the men looking at packages on a small table. In the corner is a small nativity scene. The scene sent by a loving cousin would be significant to my feelings.
One of my neighbors said as we looked at the gifts, “It looks like we got all of our gift wrap at the same store.” Almost all were wrapped in the same brown paper bags.
Randolph was asked to open his gift first. He was asked to read it to the entire group. The poem I had scratched into the mirror is on the preceding page.
As Randolph read the poem to the group, part way through he choked up on the words.
Tears also came to my own eyes as he paused. That moment was a moment of sharing for both Randolph and for Tim. It was a moment in which we both were giving, a giving of things that money cannot buy. Giving and sharing feelings with each other.
Our Savior understands these feelings so well. The greatest gift ever given was in the Garden of Gethsemane and on the cross at Golgotha as he suffered for us.
How insignificant our struggles seem in comparison. I thought of my own struggles with the specks on the mirror. I, of course, had trouble comparing it to His pain during the supreme gift to you and me.
page 21
Opening the Gifts continued. Unknown to me Randolph and I would exchange gifts. He had drawn my number. All fourteen of us laughed and shared as each in turn opened his gift. The gift from Vivian and the kids would arrive after Christmas so it was not part of my “Real Christmas.” One gift had arrived a few days earlier. A Nativity Scene on the table had been part of that Gift. I looked again at the still wrapped gifts on the table. I had placed this fold out Nativity scene in the corner of the gift table.
“We had actually laid our gifts in front of the Christ Child as the wise men of old.”
Further pondering brought more to my mind. I look at these physical Gifts that these fourteen men are giving. Could they even be gifts to Christ himself, in remembrance of his atonement?
“Yes they could.” The thought came with such force to my mind. “Is that what Christmas means?”
I thought of the words in Matthew. I took the liberty of changing two words but I do not feel in changes the meaning significantly
Verily I say unto you, Inasmuch as ye have (given) it unto one of the least of these my brethren, ye have (given) it unto me.
The word is not “given” in Mathew but “do” and “done.” In my mind though “given” is what I heard. Could anyone any where fit more the category of the “least of these?” When I humble myself enough to admit it, nothing can be a greater blow to self esteem than to be sent to prison. It is hard to admit according to the convict code, that you care about anyone except yourself and your associates in crime. Feelings are a sign of weakness. It is convenient to cover up with rudeness, but feelings are still there. Are feelings the “real” gifts of Christmas? Can you try to imagine some of the feelings Christ must have had as he took upon himself our sins? Can you attempt to imagine the joy He must feel as we accept His gift and repent? No mere mortal can love that much so we will not fully understand. Mary’s child even before He suffered knew he was helping serving and giving to us. He was even giving to those of us who have committed the gravest of all sins. If I can feel this much joy at what I gave to Randolph how much more is his Joy at my repentance and His Gift to me.
page 22
The gifts continued to be opened. The rest of us listened as each was handed his own gift. Only six of these men go to Bro. Ammon’s class. A bond of brotherhood was still there because of what we were sharing. All of us are Children of God.
In one of the fourteen, a large person with a booming voice, I feel his need to say, “I like you.” However he does not say it.
Gordi drew his name. The candy bar letter mentioned earlier was the outcome. It said, “We have a ‘jolly rancher’ on our tier, You could search the entire ‘milky way’ and not be able to match him. He is better than all ‘three musketeers’ rolled into one and almost as big. Here is a ‘jr. mint’ to bring you a wonderful day.”
I later got to know what a big heart the “jolly rancher” had beneath the tough look. I could see however even then that his heart was touched. How hard it is for we men to own up to having feelings and showing them.
page 23
Christmas in Prison
I can’t imagine the gifts Christ gave,
none were bought, money cannot save.
He gave hope, blood flowed from each pore.
Grief for my sins; that was his chore.
He alone could heal and cleanse in red.
I thank him now knelling by my bed.
His great love hears my turning from sin
Christmas behind bars, memories of Kin.
My hope grows stronger.
For this purpose Christ came to this world.
His free gift for me a banner unfurled.
Without Christ’s gift I would always be fooled.
I could never return to God and his rule.
Christmas remembers the light and hope,
the power of God to make Satan grope.
I thank him each day for prison here.
Christmas behind bars but eternal no fear.
I can become pure.
by giving to you.
as you give to me;
while Christ gives the gift
of ETERNAL LIFE .
This is a copy of my 1st Christmas poem, starting a new Christmas tradition.
page 24
My Christmas Tree
Chapter 7
My Christmas Cell
page 26
The day continued. I was working on the paper Christmas tree. Each sheet of paper was cut into a half a tree and taped together. Ten sheets taped together and fanned into a circle became our Christmas tree. Now it needed decorations. Why couldn’t I share? I had already talked to others about reading the Christmas story from Luke so I wrote out invitations for a 2 pm time. I assigned Franz to make a star for the top and delivered the invitations. I invited all to help decorate the little white and lined tree.
For the next hour or so the little tree took on Christmas trimmings.
Joe, who was used by the Santa helper, is a very intense person who does everything as if it is an obsession and is very good at telling jokes. He became his intense creative self and solved the problem of what to do for colored balls. He also found a strip of color to wrap around it. Franz cut tin foil to make tinsel. Some little pieces of Styrofoam put on a piece of thread gave the appearance of stringed popcorn.. Others brought their own ornaments. A special Christmas was here. We even had a Christmas tree.
Franz and I and then later Gordi and I talked about memories. We shared some very positive times. That was great for it is so easy to remember the bad times and the negative things that put people in prison. We remembered the unselfish times, the giving times and the Christmas times. We even remembered the Christmas times that were not during the Christmas season. Only being with our own families would make this Christmas better I have a strong feeling that many a future Christmas will be better because of these two days.
page 27
I did not leave out my family. I knew what my children’s gifts were and with my ability to fanaticize was able to picture in my mind and share the feelings of opening their gifts on Christmas. While brothers and sisters watched each gift being opened, I seemed to perceive their feelings. I also watched with a minds eye the gifts I had made and sent out. I may always be addicted to Satan’s unreal fantasy images Although this was fantasy it was somehow “real” about my family as it involved trying to feel real feelings.
Christmas feelings continue as a group of us meet in my room to read from the bible. We are experiencing the same program that I heard from the corner of the visiting room as Gordi and his family had sang carols and read the Christmas story.
I think it's time to start I looked around the room. Franz, Gordi, Alan, and Max are there.
Alan is athletic. He is trying to stay close to the Lord and winning the struggle to avoid drug habits. Max is a 4th time offender with a date to get out that is 2 decades away. He has a hope to overcome the robbery compulsion. Inside I am sure he realized he would never leave by being released.
I continued, "Gordi has been kind enough to share the program his family shared in the visiting room on Christmas Eve. We are going to attempt to recreate the mood of that evening. It is a way to read the Christmas story from Luke 2: 1-20."
page 28
“Gordi, would you please begin foe us by reading the first four verses. Then we will sing the songs 'Far, Far away on judeas plains' and 'Oh little town of Bethleham.'"
"Franz would you read the 5th and 6th verses."
We continued on through the program. Anyone might also share these feelings by going through the following:
read 1-4
sing Far far away on Judea's Plains
Oh Little Town of Bethlehem
read 5-6
sing Away in a Manger
read 7
sing It came upon a midnight clear
read 8
sing While shepherds watched their flocks
read 9
sing Heark the Herald Angels sing
read 10
sing The first Noel
read 11-16
sing With Wandering Awe
read 17
sing Oh Come All Ye Faithful
read 18
sing Joy to the World
read 19-20
sing Silent Night
page 29
Incidentally it did not turn out exactly this way; When it was my turn to read I read to many verses and we did not sing Joy to the World. "Oops."
From Max I heard at the conclusion the words, "This is the best Christmas I have ever had behind bars," Coming from Max that is a lot of Christmases.
That ends Tim's Story of Christmas reality, a remembered Christmas that I don’t want to ever forget. I still learn with each Christmas I live to love more and more deeply. May we all learn to find God's reality by using our feelings.
My hope is that all who read this will be able to remember Christ and his eternal gifts and the accompanying spiritual feelings. May we all experience His feelings. Christ knows all our feelings. He knows of the good because of His great love and giving. He knows of the pain because He felt the anguish of all repentant sinners as he bleed from every pore for us in Gethsemane.
May each of us have our most "special Christmas" this year, a Christmas of giving and feeling, in the words of Bro George Durrant,
"A Real Christmas."
page 30
Special Thanks
Tim Wishes to give a special thanks to the bishops of the prison branch of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints. These Men are called to love those who are incarcerated. They will each tell you of a spirit that witnesses the Lord’s love through them to these lost souls. Any Priesthood holders who minister in any jail or prison in similar callings are included in this gratitude. Tim felt the spirit touch his own heart. He has seen this love influence other lives. With the help of these great men who are guided by the spirit Tim had the beginnings of the feelings and change that have now led to rebaptism and full restoration of Temple and priesthood blessings. Tim is not alone. Many others have made the feeling trek back to the Savior’s love.
Any priest, pastor, or minister
of any denomination touches hearts
as they extend themselves
and their hearts to men in prison.
Any person, who brings a class or a group of any kind to incarcerated men and women, may never receive the full knowledge of the many little important changes they inspire.
We are grateful.
page 32
|
if you want a personally published copy 
Tim For information on how to purchase.