I'm Going to Jackson . . . I'm Gonna Mess Around

"We got married in a fever, hotter than a pepper sprout.
We've been talking bout Jackson, ever since the fire went out.
I'm going to Jackson; I'm gonna mess around.
Ya, I'm going to Jackson.  Look out Jackson town." - Johnny Cash & June Carter

For the two of you that read this blog and maybe don't know, Kyle and I went to Jackson, MS a couple weekends ago to meet my parents.  I know, what were my parents (who live in NM) doing in Jackson, Mississippi?  Well the answer to that question is the purpose of this blog.

If you know me pretty well, you know that I have been pen pals with an inmate named Frankie since I can remember.  I've been sending letters to him and receiving letters from him since before I could write.  I attribute my love of snail mail to Frankie.  Yes, I love snail mail.  I get way too excited when I receive anything in the mail that is not junk or bills.  It's not completely normal to say, "I'm going to Mississippi to visit an inmate in a correctional facility that I have been pen pals with for 24 years."  But, I don't know when I've ever been called completely normal.

So what's the story there?  Why I am pen pals with a 58 year old African American in Mississippi?  Short answer:  Jesus.  In May of 1982, my dad traveled to Mississippi with a prison ministry and met Frankie.  When my dad met Frankie, his nickname in prison was "Muscle Head."  They formed a friendship and began writing letters and Frankie would call every once in a while.  

He had to explain to my mom in 1983, the year they got married, that when an inmate named Muscle Head calls collect, she should answer.  From there, my mom got to know him, and then she helped my brother and I write him letters as we were growing up.  Once I was old enough, I took it into my own hands to send him letters.  If I had every letter I've received from him all these years, I would not have the time or patience to count them.  On my 20th birthday alone, he sent me 20 birthday cards, which one of the most special things I've received.

You see, in prison, you don't get wages.  The money that you have comes from family or friends.  He had to not only buy all of those cards, but also had to buy 20 stamps to send them.   At the time, postage was .42, which comes out to $8.40 that he spent on sending me cards.  He does not have much money at all, like hardly any, so to know that he cared enough to make me feel special was amazing.


He always makes the envelopes special, by either making borders, or pasting a pretty picture from a magazine on the front.  He just goes out of his way with letters in a way that is somewhat outdated and unappreciated these days.


On May 5th, my mom, dad, Kyle, Frankie's sister Lorrine, and I went to the prison to see him.  I went in there thinking, "This is so great.  I bet he is so excited to have visitors and he will be so blessed."  What an idiot.  


If you've ever had to visit anyone in prison, you know how heartbreaking it can be.  Wives, kids, parents, all there to see someone they love knowing they only have a few hours on this one day a month to do so.  There were two little girls sitting at a table behind us, waiting for their dad to come out, and when the inmates started filing in the little girls were so excited they inched their way closer and closer to the door their daddy would be coming out of with the BIGGEST smiles on their face.  They'll never know, but they gave me a huge reminder to be grateful for what I have and to remember how blessed I am to have never had to go through that.


As we talked with Frankie for a few hours and I heard his stories of how one person can ruin it for the whole lot, I became more and more aware of how bitter someone can become in prison.  Frankie has been "in the system" for 35 years, arguably well enough time to become a bitter and hardened man, but he is the opposite.  

I feel, as a society, we are always searching for that next thing that is going to make us happy.  "Oh, if I just get this job, I will be so happy."  "I'd be so happy if I just lost those ten pounds." What I really realized during my visit with Frankie is that happiness is fleeting, but joy, true joy, is endless.  Joy comes from the Lord and cannot be taken away.  Frankie exudes this from the inside out.  Everything he has he gives glory to God.  
 
The most amazing part of the visit was just seeing how the other inmates, guards, and supervisors interacted with him and truly lit up when he spoke to them.  When we first arrived at the prison, they make you get out of the car, show your ID, and they check your car.  The man checking our ID's and cars asked where we came from and Frankie's sister, Lorrine told him that she was from Fayette and that we came from NM.  He lit up and said, "Oh, so you are the ones Frankie has been telling me about all week?"  The people there love him and care about his life.  It's amazing to see.


I went in thinking he was going to be blessed, when really I was the one feeling blessed, changed, and kind of ashamed at how I take for granted what I have. We can eat whatever we want, we are not confined to one cell, we don't have to be fenced in somewhere; we really have it good.  


I absolutely loved my visit with him and pray I show even just an ounce of the joy that he shares with everyone he talks to.

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