Even those people with staunch faith need reminding from time to time of the progress they’ve made rather than be focused on the setbacks of the day. Here’s a story of a lost lamb and the shepherdess who was reminded of her triumphs instead of her failures.
The lost lamb.
Even in prison Fridays are still Fridays. It’s usually Fish & Chips for tea. Although the chips are likely to be naught more than sweaty anemic worms of potato, they are chips just the same. But one week in ten, A-Wing’s food trolley would be the last one loaded in the kitchens – we would get the freshest chips. Imagine that people – crispy chips 5 times a year! Sure prison is a doddle!
Anyway, this particular Friday morning I was sitting at the Prisoner Information Desk musing on whether the chips would crispy. It was about 9-30 and the landing was quiet. The induction for new arrivals was over and the prisoners on the wing were busying themselves with phone calls, showers or queuing at the medication hatch.
“Penny for them Moose”
I turned from my contemplation’s and saw our wee Friday chaplain. The Chaplaincy department was made up of a multi-denominational team, an Imam, a Rabbi, a Catholic Priest, a Pagan and two Church of England vicars – one of whom was this lady who only worked on Fridays.
In my experience she was one of the most pleasant, patient and tolerant people I have met in the prison system. She was as broad as she was tall and weirdly was about the same height sitting as she was standing. She wore her thick silver hair in a short bob and always wore a sky blue shirt with the old dog collar covered by a navy blue v-neck jumper.
She wore her faith like armour and she ran the wings she walked on to like the kindest, sweetest sash-wearing dictator you ever saw. I saw her once wade into the middle of three monstrous lads that were about to come to serious blows. Within 1 minute the three recalcitrant rogues were looking at their feet ashamedly. This wee lady stood underneath each in turn, admonishing them before she insisted that all three shake hands and make up. It was like an impala sorting a fight between lions.
“You were lost in thought there, anything worth sharing?” she asked.
“Actually miss, there’s something you might be able to help with.” I replied.
She pulled out the chair beside me and sat down. She knew that bravado was my armour at that time (although I would have told you that everything in my world was grand) and perhaps she thought I was about to reveal some great insight. She leaned over and urged me to unburden myself.
“Do you think there is any way that you could have a word with the Big Man (as I pointed up) and ask him to put the chips on our trolley last – so they’ll be crispy you understand.”
“You’re a rogue Moose!” she laughed as she slapped me on the back of my hand.
“Nah, no dramas here miss.” I told her, “Everything is rosy in Moose world.”
She smiled, unconvinced.
“Have you many to see?” I asked her. She was diligent – if new arrivals didn’t attend the induction she would insist that she made face-to-face contact with each and every man on their first day in prison.
“Only two according to the list.” she answered, but suddenly her eyes widened and she took a wee gasp of a breath.
“Are you OK miss?” I was a wee bit concerned.
It took a second until she snapped out of her shock. “Do you know Moose, I saw a name on the list of new arrivals and for some reason it registered with me from some recess of my brain. That’s him there.” she indicated with a nod to the railing on the landing above.
“Oh that kid? I take it you know him?” I had met him last night when he arrived. Early 20’s, skinny, tattoos – drug & gang stereotype. He had arrived with one of his mates on a conspiracy to supply Class A charge.
“I met him when he was just 15 Moose. He was in a Y.O. (Youth Offenders) jail. I worked with him for over a year when I was full time there. He was in education – such a bright kid. I really thought he had a chance. In the nicest way possible, I had hoped I would never, ever see him again – but I just feel like I’ve let him down. The poor little lamb.”
I hated seeing her upset. I thought for a second or two before I spoke to her.
“I didn’t know you were full time in a Y.O. Where there many kids in there? Was it big?” I asked.
“Not as big as here (we had a capacity of almost 1,400) – there would have been around 400 – 500 at any one time.”
“And how long were you there?”
“I was there for a bit over three years.”
I grabbed a sheet of paper and started scribbling, narrating as I went.
“So over 3 years, let’s call that 40 months for the sake of argument.” I wrote 40.
“There were up to 500 lads at any one time yeah?” I confirmed, “so for arguments sake, let’s say that 1 in ten of them would change each month – either getting transferred, released or whatever. So that’s 50.
I wrote 50 for the new faces and multiplied it by the 40 months.
“So that gives us 2,000 lads. Plus we can’t forget the 500 that were in there on the first day that you arrived – so at a very low estimate you have helped two and a half thousand lads just in that Y.O.”
I could see that she was leaning over and double checking my maths.
“Now in the two years that I’ve been here on this induction wing and seeing you every Friday, you’ve never seen anybody else from your time in the Y.O. – Correct?”
She nodded.
“So in fairness,” I said, “while you are feeling sad about the one lamb there, you should also be thinking about the thousands of lads that you have saved.”
She smiled.
“And you get the chance to save that wee lamb all over again! Isn’t there something in the big book about rejoicing at the return of a prodigal son?”
“Yes there is” she replied, “and thank you for that Moose.”
I looked over the rim of my glasses as I leaned in and said, “Boom! You just been chaplained.”
She laughed warmly and called out to the lamb on the landing above. His face fell when he saw her – like a kid that had been caught smoking by his mum. As she stood to go and speak to him she turned to me and said, “I’ll have a word with the Big Man about your chips.” And with that she was on her way.
When the chips arrived they were foul. So much for Karma!
