A (Prison) Christmas Miracle
Many years ago, I had the privilege of experiencing a heartwarming moment while working as a mentor in the prison's acute care unit. This unit, akin to a mental hospital within the prison system, houses some of the most mentally ill. As mentors, our role was to provide support and connection, distinct from the roles of staff or therapists.
In preparation for the holidays, the ladies were eagerly organizing a Christmas program to perform for the prison's staff. Historically, this events had been well-attended by the Warden, deputy warden, therapists, staff, and officers. The women poured their hearts into practicing songs, skits, and poems, rehearsing with diligence and enthusiasm. As a mentor, I played the guitar and helped them prepare, sharing in their excitement.
The day of the performance arrived, and the anticipation was electric. As we entered the unit, the women were dressed in their best, with carefully styled hair. You could almost feel Christmas in the air. However, as 10:00 a.m.—the scheduled performance time—came and went, no one showed up. No Warden, no therapists, no officers. While there may have been a valid reason for their absence (we were never told), the disappointment was heartbreaking. The festive atmosphere deflated, and many of the women were left in tears.
As we mentors were leaving, the officer on duty told us to return for a 1:00 p.m. performance. Skeptical, we asked if a second performance was really going to happen. She assured us it would and insisted we come back.
When we returned at 1:00, the room was transformed. Joy was palpable, and the officer had orchestrated what could only be described as a Christmas miracle. She had arranged for women from a different housing unit to come and watch the performance. To understand how extraordinary this was: the acute care unit is a secure, locked-down environment for some of the most vulnerable and unpredictable ladies. Other housing units don’t visit—it simply doesn’t happen. In general, prison isn’t like a college dorm where you can drop in and out of housing units to visit friends. Yet, against all odds, the women from A DIFFERENT UNIT were seated, (in the acute care unit!!) eager to watch the show.
Our ladies performed with such enthusiasm and joy that it was contagious. The room was filled with laughter, music, and a profound sense of connection. The audience cheered like crazy! The performers were rock stars. It was one of those rare moments when the barriers of prison life seemed to dissolve, leaving only the shared human spirit.
I was so grateful to be able to witness that day.
The last song the ladies sang that day! And we all felt it!!
Good tidings indeed!
Thank you for reading.
