Knowing that my actions and bad decisions tore my family apart saddened me, but seeing the pain in my children’s eyes and hearing their questions to which I had no easy answers to cut like a knife.  ‘Daddy, why don’t we live together anymore?’  ‘Daddy, what did we do wrong?’  ‘Daddy, do you still love us?’
‘Daddy, I saw mommy crying, why doesn’t she smile anymore?’  Each question cut deeper and deeper.  What hurt the most is when my daughter said she overheard my wife on the phone saying she enjoyed her date the other night and she couldn’t wait for them to go out again.  I tried my best to assure them that everything would be okay, that they did nothing wrong, that I still loved them and their mother and that I made some bad decisions that carried some rough consequences.
I knew then that I had to get myself together.  I had to get out of my own way.  The problem is, I dug a hole so deep for myself that I couldn’t get out…or so I thought.
At recess, I overheard an inmate talking about Jesus to other inmates.  He sounded really good in his tone and diction, but I had a hard time believing him considering we were all in jail awaiting death row.
I felt a churning within me like butter. Something just pressing at my insides, but I ignored it.  I was focused on getting out and getting my family back. Yet, I could not sleep from thinking about it…STAFF PHOTO BY MICHAEL DEMOCKER Tuesday, February 26, 2008 Marlin Gusman's tour of Orleans Parish Prison An inmate sleeps in his cell in the 10th floor psychiatric section of Orleans Parish Prison.

1 Comment

  • Robert Posted August 18, 2015 2:26 pm

    Great reading. This is real and it shows how the Holy Spirit speaks to us daily but how we often refuse to acknowledge him.

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