The Visitation

It is 9:00 A.M. in the morning. The place is Northern Ozarklandia Men’s Correctional Institute and it is visitation day.

The line began early. People waiting to sign in, leave their locker number and show their ID. They then pass through the “sniffer”, pass through the metal detector, have their hand stamped with phosphorescent ink and proceed through locked doors to the waiting area.

To my surprise, I am the only male of twenty-five people, the rest are women. Most seem fairly plain. They are of all ages. There are no fashion models here. Some are older and are faithful moms going to visit sons, some wifes, some girl friends and some daughters. Each there to see an important man in their life. A man no longer at home.

The waiting room has a large glass window and through it you can see each prisoner come into the visitation area. When your prisoner comes in you go through two locking doors and you enter into the visitation room where you meet your prisoner. There you can touch, talk, play games , buy food from vending machines and eat and have pictures taken.

As I watch the process, I see a miracle unfold.

I see prisoners, tough guys, begin to grin. I see mothers go through and embrace their sons. They hug them and pat their backs like they are trying to reassure themselves that their son is still alive, is still there and has not some how disappeared. I see wives and girl friends go through and hug and kiss their husbands. In each case as their particular loved one appears these women become more beautiful; their faces brighten. The men too become more than just a prisoner, more than just a number. They become fathers, sons, and brothers again. Not just prisoners.

The women and men are transformed before my eyes. They become real people with real feeling.

It’s Sunday. It is a good day for miracles. And I saw 25 of them.