It's some 12 hours after writing my previous blog. I was pretty nervous about the upcoming gig at Pelunsky Prison. As is often the case in my life, many of my fears were not realized. Actually, the entire experience will go down as a good memory for Danelle and I.
First of all, Pelunsky isn't in Huntsville. Nope. It's somewhere near Coldspring and Livingston, out in the middle of nowhere. According to my wife, there was some sort of uprising in 1994 that led to some changes in the prison system, which is why Pelunsky came about. Apparently, the powers that be decided to put this unit as far away from a major population center as they could. It took over an hour just to get to the place. I guess that's what was in mind in putting the unit out there where it is.
Secondly, despite the fact that Pelunsky is home to "Death Row," our band of miscreants didn't come anywhere near that part of the population. Instead, it turns out that those who were under minimum security were the only ones allowed to attend public meetings. Low risk inmates in a minimal supervision setting. Our concert tonight was a function that is part of a ministry headed up by our keyboard player, Walter Bennett. He practically knew everyone who was in attendance and practically orchestrated everything we did. We were in the best possible situation we could have been in behind the walls of the TDCJ.
Now, death row was there and on our way out, our guide for the evening, the prison chaplain, informed us that the 3 blocks of buildings to the southwest of the Pelunsky grounds is the most secure, heavily guarded facility in the state of Texas. From what I understood, those therein do well just to see the light of day.
Lastly, I think the most memorable thing that I took away from the evening was looking at the faces of men from so many different backgrounds who shared a common place and time. It's weird, but it was almost like I could see the crimes that had been perpetrated in their faces. There were several that knew that had made a terrible mistake. Circumstances beyond their control pushed them to the brink and they crossed the line. Now they were left to pay with their lives. Others had committed unspeakable offenses against other human beings and were forced to be reminded of their sins when they wake up each morning in custody of the state of Texas. Still, here they were, all together in the same room, listening to our band - singing songs of hope and deliverance.
But for me, it was way more than that. When I looked these men in the face, I realized that I had committed sins of my own, maybe not the kind that would get me thrown in jail. I was also reminded of times when I was so angry that I could have crossed the line or made bad decisions just as quick and rash, just as they had. The only difference between myself and them was the grace of God, pure and simple. Sometimes, that's what it takes. Someone has to look us right in the eye to makes see what we might miss otherwise.
So, after an afternoon of anxiety, I was relieved to sit down with my cohorts and debrief over some ribs and fried catfish at Florida's (a pretty good bar-b-que place near the prison). It was awesome to see ourselves used by God's hand the way we were tonight. It seemed the guys were really blessed by our being there. We were even invited back.
I won't be as concerned about going back as I was today. I actually made some friends on the inside. More importantly, I was reminded that we're all basically the same. If but for the grace of God, there go I. Indeed.
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