Notes from the Chaplain

14 years ago when I started on the hospice wards of the Federal prison in FROM THE NOTES CHAPLAIN

Butner, I met a man who was more interested in tying and retying his shoes than to speak a single word to me. I still would stop in his cell to let him know that I was praying for him, that God loved him, and I loved him. He rarely looked up from his wheelchair to look at me. Instead he stayed completely hunched over and stayed focused on his shoes.

As the weeks and months went by I came to know that he was suffering from stage 4 brain cancer. He was in the wheelchair because he would have seizures every once in a while and the only way they could keep him safe from falling was for him to be confined to the wheelchair. As the weeks and months went by little bit by little bit he would look at me. At some point he spoke to me. It wasn’t much that he shared at first, but eventually he let me know he just couldn’t believe for himself that there was a good God. He wanted to believe, but it was just too difficult for him given the state he was in. I asked him, “If you could pray, what would be your one prayer?” “I would pray for a compassionate release so I can die with family around me.” “Well I will pray that it happens.” It was later that day that I heard his name over the loud speaker. I ran over to his cell with big eyes and a huge grin. “Do you think it is good news from your social worker?” With tears running down his face he said, “You really do mean it that you will hope and pray for me?” “Yes, of course!” And sure enough, he would hear the news that he wanted to hear – he was going home in just a few days.

Later that day I would write this in my journal: “These moments—where I can see God moving in these men’s lives—are what keep me coming back. I will hope for them when they are out of hope. I will cry for them when they are out of tears. I will show up for them when they feel they are all alone. I will pray for them when they feel that no one cares. Why? Because this is what God does for me, and it is the least I can do for them.”

Rev. Cari Wilis By the simple acts of showing up and praying for this man, there was hope in his darkness. Praise be to God!