Vacation with the kids. by Lesa

12/29/2014

I apologize for the grand space in dates and posts.  I am struggling in energy and motivation.  I find myself alone and lonely tonight.  It has been a whirlwind event, working a bunch of days together, to be able to take a vacation with minimal days off, to be able to recover when I get home.  Vacation was bittersweet.  Second to my husband, nothing brings me more joy than my children, and they are still, my "Magnum Opus".  I was overwhelmed at times during vacation, and coming back, as the emotions of the generosity of them hit me, I was humbled, grateful, and exhausted.

In getting ready for vacation, I had to be ready for Christmas a week early.  The money rolled in slowly, and had to go right into my jeep to get it ready to make the trip to New Mexico.  As the time drew closer, I finding myself down, because for the first time in my adult life, I had nothing, NOTHING to give for Christmas.  I had managed to save enough to make calendars for the kids, and the project kept me busy.  Their new step-mom, on her Christmas list, had asked for a calendar of pics for the kids from their childhood.  I have all the kids photos and thought it would be a fun project, and the kids would enjoy.  I counted that we needed 10 calendars, to include both grandparents, me, and the ex, and of course each of the kids.

When I got married to the kids dad, and we moved, for a while, to Shreveport, he let me take a photography class.  I was hooked for life, and our kids, were my favorite subject. I have ridiculous amounts of pictures of them.  Which means I had to dig through and pick favorites.  Jessica gave me an idea of how to organize it.  I spent hours and hours, laughing, crying, reminiscing, Finally it was done and I sent the order off, having it delivered to my son's house, where we would gather for Christmas with mom on the 23rd of December.  I will come back to this on Christmas day post.

Isaac, the youngest of my kids, and 15 years old, and I took off for vacation, after working a 12 hour shift.  Isaac took the wheel and I could chill.  As we get close to my son's, a stopping point to get ready to go on to New Mexico, I sent him text that we were close.  He replied with a confused text back. I, apparently, had showed up a day early.  It was great, I got to relax a day, do the cooking I had still wanted to get done, and got to spend a day with Luke and his darling girl Jackie.  Everyone comes in that night, the excitement is building.  It was wonderful just to have them all around.  We divided into two cars and hit the road.  Wesley and I were able to have moments alone to talk on the phone, it is always embarrassing for him when I am with the kids, he feels awkward and embarrassed and cuts the conversation short.

My feelings were strange, having my kids pay for everything.  I kept praying that God would keep me from feeling anxious and awkward, to just enjoy the break, allow them to take care of me, to learn something.

We finally get to Red River, New Mexico about 8pm.  The boys jump out and start throwing snow around.  The two youngest had never seen so much snow.  The rest of us were tired and ready for sleep.

 When you are married to someone in jail, there is a guilt, and something else, not sure yet, but, you are locked up too. There is this empty hole that exist constantly, a part of you missing. Its not guilt, its just hard to enjoy life, with half of yourself missing.  Its like, you can't fully enjoy, or even understand, because part of your senses is missing.  The next day, everyone is up early to get going.  Me and the two youngest, all new to snow, get put into lessons.  They snowboard, me ski.  And while I could look around and enjoy the beauty and awe in the atmosphere, my soul was detached.  I threw myself into learning the skills, a nice distraction, especially since, at 47, I didn't bounce back from falls in quite the same way.  At the end of the lesson, I was exhausted. Not just from the physical exertion, but emotionally, I was overwhelmed from holding all I was feeling inside.

Day two, we slept in awhile and then played until the lodge/ski lift closed.  I worked back and forth from the bunny hill, to the next step up, which seemed way more difficult.  By the end of the day, I felt I could sort of turn and control my ski's enough to not run over anyone.  We get back to the cabin, I start dinner, waiting for the more experienced folks to get back from another mountain.  Time alone, I tried to figure out my feelings.  Wesley would call at the end of the day, we would talk for a bit, but he would cut it short, knowing I was with the kids.  I kept all the emotions inside.  I was missing my time with my husband, I knew he was ...well, he even stopped me on the first day.  He couldn't stand the conversation anymore, me on a ski vacation, with the kids, and it was Christmas week.  He was miserable. I also wouldn't be visiting him that week, I had never, missed a visitation.  There was guilt, but more, I was just missing sharing the joy with my best friend.  Several of the kids were playing a video game, distracting and giving some laughs.  We were all exhausted and fell to sleep quickly.  My mind at night, wondering what Wesley was thinking about.

Day three, the kids all went together to the mountain, I finally able to control myself, a little,  down the hill,  crashing every few feet.  I worked on my stops more, learned to get up without taking off my ski's.  By the end of the day, the kids wanted to take me 1/2 up the mountain and go down together. I felt I could stop myself enough to try.  Holy crap... It was a fantastic challenge.  I fell hard, got up, fell again.  Phil gave me tips along the way, and they all followed behind and around me.  I would at times rest a few minutes.  They would show me the cushioned spots of snow to fall into. I cry as I write this...

I was not alone.  I had worked on the skills to survive the challenge.  Met with curves, and rocks, and crazy cliffs. Fell onto hard snow.  If I wanted a hand they lent it, they picked up my sticks...my darling daughter-in-law, Kiersten, passed me my sticks, patiently, gracefully, lovingly.  I stubbornly got up.  They would do tricks, play along the way, as I rested, distracting me.  I never felt cold, warmth and love abounded.  We laughed.  They cheered me on...I get to the last steep small hill.   Kiersten sees I am exhausted, gives me some advice how to just take it slow and go sideways, a step at a time.  And at last, we are back to the last hill I had been practicing on the last two days.  Kiersten tells me to go first and let the ducklings follow behind, the video is priceless. The last kid, quack, quacking on the way down.  My son's girlfriend, Jackie is at the bottom with her camera to take pictures.  I feel happy.  I survived.

My heart is so heavy, my burden, at times, feels so alone.  I didn't even have to look....there are my kids.  Sending my husband letters, books, magazines, LOVE!  Calling to check up on me, buying my gas and dinner.  My one son, buying my ski lessons, rentals, lift tickets, the other gas, and dinner.  My daughter buying my gas, food, I am sure, they all got together at the end to split the cost, of me and the two youngest kids.  And although I felt self conscience having my children pay for my vacation, God taught me in such a precious way, that last hour of the skiing, something priceless.   It was one of the hardest things, physically, I had ever done.  The beauty was all around, the danger, all around, but each step, each fall, each move forward, backward or sideways, painfully fallen, or successfully skied, was met with cheers, encouragement, a helping hand, a empathetic word, to let me know I was not alone, I would not struggle, ever, alone. The road to life is not easy, but with God's gift of family, it is bearable.  As a Christian, we are to put our trust and lives in God, but I know, God puts people in our lives, to help us for him.  I don't know why God loves me so much, but I am so glad he does.  I have the most amazing kids, and the love on the most primal, concrete , simplest ways, that touches the very core of who I am.  I am truly, truly humbled by them.

Doesn't everyone deserve compassion? by Lesa

I have just read my husbands blog on justice.  It, in my opinion, is the best entry he has wrote.  When we as society, try to blindly, like a formula in math, try to punish a criminal, or pass judgement, it is ignorance that blindly leads us.  I have learned a lot in the time since we have been together.  I was raised in a conservative, christian background.  In my previous life, white, conservative christian(more of a moderate my children will tell you, especially as I got more of a sense of self), married for 25 years, raising 6 children, and living in the bubble of the suburbs, I was ignorant of a lot of injustices of the world.  Justice is not equal for the black, white, and brown.  The poor and rich absolutely have different types of justices available to them.  I have heard enough of similar experiences and charges having different outcomes with those who can afford counsel, especially good counsel.

I have heard of incidences of deals getting offered to folks, unable to afford bond, pleading guilty to deals that they may or may not have been guilty of, because the sentence is "time served".  Including, felonies, which is particularly sad, because they are ignorant of the consequences of having a felony on your record.

I can think, like my husband does, of both sides of a coin.  If it was my daughter being robbed at gun point, at a Jack in the Box, she may not be physically hurt, but I assure you, she will be emotionally traumatized to some degree.  But I can also look with compassion, at the circumstances that might have led him to make a one time bad decision.  He appears remorseful, has his faith, that appears genuine, and supportive family, to assist him with rehabilitation, but no crime comes without any consequences.  But deciding the appropriate punishment, with balance, fairness, and consideration of all the facts, is a difficult decision.  I guess that is why we should be choosing Judges that we know have a history of doing just that.

My husband, for example, has admitted his guilt.  For someone who has been harmed by a drunk driver, they can be angry, unforgiving, and without any reserve, want him locked up for life.  But my husband is not the person who committed the first DWI.  He has been to rehab, has learned better coping skills, been humbled, not only by losing his esquire, but by learning to understand people better, no longer considering himself better than those he represents.  He is capable of making mistakes of judgement, of not thinking through the consequences of his choices.  His severe ADHD as added to his spontaneous bad choices.  He takes medication, has learned to decrease his impulsive decisions, and to trust in another person, me, his wife, to help him.

We humans are complicated.   Life is complicated by childhood baggage, by race, by our environment.  Throw in religion, abuse, addiction, there are endless complicating circumstances.  In normal life, I hope that I can always provide compassion, care, and hope to those who cross my path. I know my husband, in his current residence, has to also apply good judgement to his choices, but also does the same. He has wrote stories of some of his fellow dormmate's circumstances, and while we are not the judges, it is still up to us to treat one another with respect, and hopefully compassion.  Wesley states there are many who cause him to feel revulsion, but still, there are some, even accused of terrible crimes, that require a second look.  And while justice is to be decided by others, we can still choose to be compassionate.  I have donated books, put money for inmate on commissary, or phone, I have been a pen pal to one, a female, who is in a similar circumstance as my husband. Except in this instance, she is innocent.  I will save her story for another day.  Tell me what your opinion is on how justice is handed out, or should be? I am curious to what others, in different situations, may think.

Lastly, as a teaser, I will tell you, that I have a special guest blog entry coming from an inmate.  I hope it to be a learning experience for us all, but mostly, a way to healing for him.  Keep tuned.

The scales of lady justice. by Wesley

12/5

I have spent the bulk of my adult life defending the underdog.  At times, that meant I represented an injured party against an insurance company.  Plaintiffs often are unfairly judged by the general population because of misunderstood judgments (of juries) that are bandied about by the willfully ignorant for political parties.  Some really are injured parties that deserve compensation. They can not be painted with one broad brush.

Other times, I have represented the accused against the state.  I have believed that the state is often tyrannical and that "justice" is often perverted by vengeance and that our system is broken and the lady with the scales is not blind and that those who vote are also willfully ignorant and that the suburbs are a Truman Show and instill in wide swaths of the population, a warped view of the world.

I believe these things because I'm liberal AND because they are all very true.

But, there is more to it than I have been willing to admit.

In here, this very room, there is an 18 year old kid.  He's funny and light-hearted and playful.  He gets mad when the Texans lose, and he calls his mother every night.  He leads a prayer group at night and often, when he thinks no one is watching, he weeps.

He also has confessed to being a part of a conspiracy of armed robbers who targeted restaurants.  They stuck guns into the faces of hard working poor people, threatened their lives, and stole thousands of dollars.

The state has offered him 40 years in prison and told him they will seek a life sentence if he doesn't accept the deal.

That means for his admittedly horrible behavior, he can not reasonably expect to be home before he is 45.  He will go to prison for at least 27 years for crimes in which no one was hurt.

I wish I could say I knew what was just.  I wish I could say with absolute certainty that my suburban friends are right, that such a judgement is just.  That a child with no criminal history should be cast into the prison system to become an angry 45 year old, who has never lived, unleashed upon the world in 3 decades.

At the other end of the spectrum is the violent gang member I share a cell with.  He is happily a career criminal and has no desire to be anything but.  He is prone to violent outbursts, he gets no mail, no visits, and makes no phone calls.  He alludes to murders in his past, that may be true, or may be lies intended to inspire jail cred.  He has spent the bulk of his life in prison and will continue to do so, and in my opinion, he is why we build jails and should build more.

But what is a just punishment for him attempting to steal a truck in the Woodlands?

And what is a just punishment for people who commit property crimes when they are dumped homeless onto the streets of Houston with no money, family, resources or skills at urban outdoor living.

What is justice?  I know that I have been as blind as I have accused other of being.  But I still do not claim to know what is just.

I do know this: Life is too complicated to paint the accused and the convicted with one broad stroke and either condemn or mitigate our sins as one.  But, I can say, strongly, that the people I have encountered, people in here that inspire revulsion, is far rarer than those that inspire compassion, and that may be the strongest statement of all.  In any case, I realize that I really have no answers, despite all the evidence I collect.

Struggling with the holidays. by Lesa

I am exhausted.  I have spent the day getting caught up on chores, that I only got half way done with, I still have not started on Christmas projects, although I did put up a few Christmas decorations, including a sad two foot artificial tree, I always get a real one, it is pathetic, but still somewhat festive.  I am fighting depression, some days it gets away with me and I give in, other days I fight it off, with Wesley's help and phone calls.  I am working a lot of hours, I am overdue on maintenance on my jeep, and it needed new tires too, and in December, it is eating up all my Christmas money.  I am taking a ski vacation with the kids in New Mexico, so everyone is making Christmas a little scaled back to have vacation money.  But, it is incredibly difficult that it is December 7 and I have not bought one single solitary thing for Christmas.  Payday is Thursday, but again, all the extra money will go to the jeep, and bills. I am not sure what, if anything will be left.  When I start trying to add it in my head I start getting overwhelmed and getting upset.  I am sure when my children read this they will all say the same thing, no worries mom, we are just glad to all be together, they are awesome that way.

I have some surprises that I hope to get done, might have some Jessica help, but if it doesn't come along everyone will understand.  Most of us are broke for one reason or another.  But its Christmas, and its my tradition to overdo it. lol. I keep praying that God will help me through this lesson.  I have had broke Christmases as a child, I was fine.  But as an adult, I have always gone overboard and crazy, we love Christmas.  But Christmas is NOT about the stuff.  We all know that, but the love behind the stuff.  And I wouldn't care one bit if I did not get anything from anyone, well, except that one special thing from hubby.  Don't be crass, I mean that he is wearing, right now, a new t-shirt, decorated with messages of love....getting his scent all over it.  Yes, for Christmas, my most precious present will be a smelly t-shirt from my husband.  Oh, it won't stink, but, as you have maybe seen someone smell a worn shirt when they are missing a loved one, I so miss his smell, its comfort.  It is incubating as we speak. I am very excited.

I did get some interesting news at work. I was offered a job. A straight 8-5 M-F, no holidays or weekends, kind of job.  I officially interview this week, hopefully tomorrow.  I am afraid I may not be able to meet my current pay, especially when times are tough, I can always pick up a shift for overtime.  I will no longer be able to do that, or I am exempt from it, I no longer get paid for working overtime. It is for a new program, so there will be overtime getting it started, but probably not excessive.

Back to Christmas...Wesley and I usually watch "Love Actually" every week, some times twice a week, it is our tradition together.  I did not make it through the intro without crying, I tried three times, so I am not going to do it. I am miserable without him here.  Our life does not work without him.  Isaac is down too.  I chewed his butt out for his drop in grades, he was grumpy, but went up stairs, spent all night and further getting caught up with stuff and finishing a project.  The next few days he got his work done sitting with me after I got home, I got home early this week since I am working in a clinic for the week.  Regular hours, it seems, made a difference to having me home with him.  I had not realized that working and not getting home til 8 pm. was giving him a bit of a challenge.  New job would be good for that too, will just have to pray and see how salary negotiations go, after the interview, of course.

Well, I have procrastinated on the Christmas projects enough, better get back to it.  Keeping my head up, for today anyways.  Keep yours up too, it can be overwhelming.  Everybody has life issues, but remembering that friends and family are a text away, or call, or if I am not really wanting to talk, I can get on Facebook and just read about how everyone else is doing.  It usually picks me up.  And, I have mentioned before, do something for someone else.  Giving time, money, thoughtful gestures to another takes your mind of your own troubles, and allows God to work through you.

God bless.

Thanksgiving. by Wesley

Thanksgiving

Today is Thanksgiving, my favorite holiday of the year.  It is a day to appreciate your friends and family and take joy in just being together. No commercialism, no nonsense, just love and companionship.

And football, of course, but clearly the Cowboys didn't get the friggin' memo this year!

The dorm (I'm not comfortable with the word- too collegiate- but everyone else uses it) is quiet.

People lounging around. People deal with the holidays in here in 2 ways: They are either festive or they sleep all day and ignore the calendar altogether.

The kitchen staff, I must admit, did not poison us.  I realize such a conclusion is premature but the signs are positive.  In any case, we have turnkey roll slices with mashed potatoes roughly every two weeks, so they have plenty of practice with the meal.

Nevertheless, this is an important day on my annual schedule and I am positively scandalized at the lack of effort!  Accordingly, I vow, VOW, I tell you, that I will never come to the jail for Thanksgiving dinner again.

Despite the lackluster meal in my current location, I am thankful.  I am thankful that I have wonderful kids that keep me entertained through the mail.  I'm thankful that I have wonderful brothers and sisters, and a mother who love me.

And I'm thankful for my wonderful wife.  She struggles in my absence with doing both of our jobs and chores,but always makes sure I have what I need and that I know I'm loved.

I love you all and I appreciate you all so much.

Losing a dear friend. By Wesley

The blog has suffered of late.  Both Lesa and I have suffered through a series of events that threatened to overwhelm us.  Personal, financial and other set backs that came over us like waves.  One after another and each stronger than the last.

My lawyer died.

I'm in jail and I have entrusted my well being to a man, and he died.  This is a scary scenario, believe me.

But Brad was so much more than my lawyer.  He was my employer.  I worked with him for a couple of years and we were just starting to understand what our mutually beneficial relationship would look like.

But he was my friend and much more.  He calmed me.  He made me feel like everything was going to be okay when I was overcome by fear.  He was a huge bear of a man: 6'10 400 pounds, with a deep voice that washed over your panic and soothed you.

Every time I beat myself up, he would assure me that I would eventually get my license back, that he would not give up on me.

After my efforts resulted in a big win for him and his client, he called me brilliant and it lifted my spirits because I knew him to be one of the smartest lawyers I have ever known.  And despite all of this, despite the fact that I loved him like a brother, I knew he was flawed.

He had long since stopped preparing the way he should.  He'd lost some confidence, and losing when he'd not fully prepared was easier on the ego than losing when fully prepared.

He drank way too much, smoked too much and was deeply depressed.

And I was planning on firing him.  While he was falling to the floor, paralyzed by the stroke that ended his life, I was leaving a message, begging him to call me, asking about his health, and giving instructions.  When I hung up, I made snide comment about whether I would still have a job when this was over if I fired my boss.

He was always there for me, and while he was dying, I was jumping ship.

I am such a dick.

Visit from my probation officer. by Wesley

My new bunk mate is ethnically indigenous Hawaiian Islander.  He was born and raised in Maine.  He is covered in tattoos that look like the state of Texas and statements like, "Southern Pride".  These thoughtful ink proclamations are crowded by swastikas and "ss" bolts.  He redefines multiculturalism.

He also smells bad and is just a bit smarter than a cold brisket.  Owing to his Pacific Island heritage, he is huge, so I keep my clever judgments to myself.

I was visited by my probation officer and received what some might call some staggeringly bad news (by "some" I mean "I"): it seems that on 9/3 when I went to court it was made clear to my now deceased lawyer that I would not be allowed to leave until everything was worked out in Harris County.

On some level, I already knew that, and had been begging him to use the game of "keep away" to work out a deal in Harris county to grease the skids.  That did not happen.  That's the good news.  The bad news is that nothing happened at all so I have essentially been sitting here for about 110 days for no reason.

So I got that goin' for me. which is nice.

I recognize that every day I sit is a day closer to going home.  Allegedly.  This is true only in the most chronological of ways.  The reality is that the sooner everything gets worked out, the sooner I will go home.

In the meantime, I will avoid my Nazi Hawaiian bunk mate and his strangely stained under garments that make me throw up, just a little.