A Christmas Eve Story

Back around 1988 I was going through a divorce. I had also become a volunteer chaplain at the local jail – the same one I had woken up in just a few years earlier, so drunk I didn’t know how I got there. I think the reason I was drawn to this ministry was because these men were so much like myself.

That year was the first year I didn’t have my son with me for Christmas. Like most divorcing couples we were sharing these experiences, and my soon to be ex was very gracious to do this. Well on Christmas Eve this year I was “home alone.” Which was bumming me out, so I decided to go to jail. Misery loves company, right? And I was on the path to becoming clean and sober, so going to a bar wasn’t an option.

When I got there, I had a deputy unlock the chaplain’s office and I grabbed as many hymnals as I could carry. Then I went from block to block – a block is where men are incarcerated as a group as opposed to an individual cell. The first block was an interesting group of men – one was a little guy (I’m 5’4” and was a good foot taller than him) who was in jail for murdering his brother. Like I said, an interesting group of men.

They were watching TV and there was a Christmas special with Loni Anderson. One of the guys grumbled, “You better not mess with my TV time.” (Actually, he expressed himself much more colorfully than that, but your kids may be reading this.) A few gathered by the cell bars and asked what I was doing.

I said, “Well it’s Christmas Eve…I thought maybe you’d like to sing some songs.” A few agreed.

As we went through the few songs in the hymnals dealing with Christmas (“The First Noel,” “O Little Town of Bethlehem,” “Away in a Manger,” “Silent Night” and such) more men came to the corner where I was. Even the guy who was watching Loni. He actually turned the TV off. When we finished several asked me why was I there? Why was I doing this?

“Tonight, I’m like you are, separated from my family, because of choices I made in how I lived my life. I just wanted you to know you aren’t forgotten and you are loved.”

As I went through the floor, block by block, I found men waiting for me and asking,” Are we gonna get to sing too?”

When I left and went home, I traveled down this country road where all the people living there had put those candles in a bag to illuminate the road; to light the way of the Child. I had to stop for a few minutes in the middle of the road. I was crying.