And it's Even Better to Listen

I have spent the afternoon in prison with Paddy - an Irishman in his sixties.

I adore Paddy who swears like a navvy, and is deliciously blunt. Recently I was washing up with him after a Support Group meeting and splashed him by accident - whereupon he said "get out of my f***ing way, you're f***ing useless like all women.."

He's a HOOT !!

He is also someone absolutely full of love.
Rough diamond, tell it like it is, "none of this nancy boy hugging, mind you", love.

Paddy attends up to 10 Support Group meetings a week and seems to devote his entire life to service. Not surprisingly, there is an air of deep contentment and happiness about the man.

I never like going into prison, but today I feel OK because I am with Paddy. His presence makes all the preliminaries - having my fingerprints scanned, getting a pat down search, having to open my mouth to have it examined for contraband, waiting endlessly for doors to be unlocked, and walking onto a wing where the prisoners are all out of their cells - bearable and even quite funny.

We sit in an empty cell while waiting for the warder to collect the men who have put their names down for the Support Group meeting we are running. The warder is most apologetic. "Some of them are refusing to come because they are playing pool". "That's OK" I tell him. "It's completely up to them".

In the end, there are only 5 of us gathered in the cell. Paddy, myself and 3 prisoners.

I used to feel that I had to describe my past circumstances in the worst possible terms, just so that these men would accept me and my message would not be lost on them. But these days I am just myself. "Quite posh" as New Boss likes to describe me. But not so posh, that I don't know what it's like to be brought to my knees.

One of the prisoners is articulate and well educated. He is honest about the fact he intends to carry on drinking and using on release. A bit later he mentions his plans to go back into Higher Education. I suspect, that as someone who has completed a lengthy prison sentence for dealing heroin, he will find his plans trickier to realise than he imagines, particularly if he carries on using. But it is not for me to say.

The second prisoner is loud, brash and full of braggadocio. He reminds me of myself when younger. So I am not surprised that when he has the opportunity to speak in the quiet of the cell with everyone listening intently, he finds it much harder to talk. But that's not a bad thing. Because we all need to learn how to listen.

The third is introverted and quiet, but I can see that he is taking everything in. He speaks towards the end, and briefly expresses his wish to stop hurting the people around him, be a proper dad to his kids, and "be a better person". I think he has a chance. But I know they ALL have a chance.

Because I did.

My plan is to return to my office and carry on with the work I started in the morning. Paddy drives me back there, but when I sit down in front of the computer I am assailed with a profound and inexplicable exhaustion. Curling up on my handy two-chair arrangement, I sleep for almost an hour.

Thank you Lord for giving me a private office with comfy chairs and a lockable door.

And thank you for giving me the freedom to unlock that door whenever I want to and walk out into the rain.