Jail Birds (Bird=female in Scottish slang)

This picture is Elizabeth Fry visiting a woman prisoner.

Now here's an interesting quote: "The system is gendered - far too few women are held accountable and the proportion of female to male prisoners is too low. From general social attitudes, to police, to COPFS, to judges, women are infantalised and pathologised but not held criminally accountable. Think of the children who really should be protected!" So says the first comment here.

This really has made me think. I have always bought into the widespread belief that too many of the women sent to jail are poor souls who shouldn't be there, victims themselves really, and so on. This is the first time I've thought about the possibility that perhaps as this commenter says, "women are infantalised and pathologised but not held criminally accountable". Mmmmm. I'm going to think more about this. I have visited a women's prison in the past but today I was visiting a men's jail which has about 1,500 prisoners in it (more than it is designed for). The chaplain there led me through the area where the families who were in for the visiting time were congregating. He was saying that quite often the women cause fights and arguments and are difficult for the staff to deal with. I've often heard officers say that working at the female prison is harder in many ways than working with male prisoners.
I guess ladettes who want, for example, to drink like lads at weekends and get into brawls in the street need to be treated fairly. And fairly works two ways...

But aren't chaplains supposed to be nice? Not seeking to get more folk locked up! Well chaplains are supposed to speak up for what seems to them morally right as best they can. Our governors usually tell us they want us to be knocking on their door if we see unjust or unethical practices in their jails. If I do, on reflection, conclude that what this commenter said is true, then maybe I'll end up with the view that more rather than fewer women should be locked up, but that'll be ethical and moral if it's because I'm standing against infantalising and pathologising women.

Hanky Panky?

One of the tools of the trade of a prison chaplain is a box of tissues. When the said prison chaplain also has a cold she's had so long she's forgotten when it started, the need is all the greater, to have a box handy.

On my way to work this morning I called in at the village shop near the jail where I spotted five boxes of a well known brand of man-size tissues (wouldn't they be huge if they really were man-sized? And which size of man would they be the size of?)
The boxes were identical, and had the price already printed on them by the manufacturer. Four of them said "99p". The other, exactly the same in other respects, said "Special Price. £1.69". Isn't "special price" supposed to imply a discount not a Whatever-It-Is-Per-Cent increase (please someone work that out for me as I'm not fond of arithmetic) of 70p"?

And talking of man-size, it was my privilege to facilitate the provision of a pair of overalls to a very tall prisoner today (not really part of my job description of course) who was unable to fit into any of the overalls provided by his Work Party. A local minister found me a pair in his garage. You know who you are, M. Thank you. He's terribly pleased.

Admiring God's Creation, Return of

Just for balance, for male heterosexual readers of this blog I thought I'd make up for yesterday.
This, if you didn't know, people, is Deanna Troi, ship's counsellor on Star Trek in the days of Jean Luc Picard's leadership. I used to find her a bit annoying because I felt her role was much less important than all the others busy on the bridge of the Starship Enterprise trying to save the universe. However, occasionally at work I find myself thinking of Deanna Troi and wondering if, as a prison chaplain, I'm perceived in the same way - a wee bit purposeless! Not by the guys, I don't think, but perhaps by some staff. Once a month I sit at the Top Team management meeting and listen to all these very experienced managers trying to work out how to run the jail and tick all the thousands of audit boxes whilst still doing it all on twenty pence a year. My job is so very different from theirs, and since much of it involves apparently chatting (in reality very committed listening) I appreciate I must seem kind of superfluous. And not only that but at least Deanna Troi was a feast for the eyes - I'm just concerned that if the SPS eventually brings in corporate dress I might have to wear that outfit! Time to get back on the diet?

Just recently, within days of each other I've attended two very interesting training sessions in the jails. The first was about how to watch out for being conditioned and manipulated by prisoners. (It is undoubtedly the case that many a prisoner would sell his granny, and lie his head off, to achieve his own ends, and all staff are fair game). The second was about how to manage prisoners who are in a frame of mind where they are tempted to self-harm or attempt suicide, with some consideration of the types of prisoner and the types of circumstances that can lead to such a state of affairs (anyone, any time would be a slight exaggeration, but not much).

It's interesting that in a way these two courses highlighted almost opposing attitudes which prison staff must hold in tension at all times. First of all we need to be suspicious and never to forget that we are staff and they are prisoners and they may be manipulating us (of course staff may also be manipulated by staff, prisoners by staff, and prisoners by prisoners but let's keep this simple). But secondly, and at the same time, we need to be caring, respectful and observant, picking up on signals about how the prisoner is feeling.

A challenge? Indeed.

Life's like that, though, isn't it? People that don't hold opposing things in tension and swing to one extreme position are not usually right to do so, in my opinion. The older I get the more I haunt the middle ground. When I was a young hothead divinity student I had such ready opinions and was way too judgemental. Now I feel like some kind of chameleon. Whoever's company I'm in, I'm thinking about stuff from their angle, if I'm able. I've recently started to read and enjoy blogs by police, ambulance crew and others who're so often dealing with the same section of society I run into every day at work. When I'm reading their blog I'm totally into their perspective. If I were reading a victim's story, or was with a victim I'd be right into their story. But if I'm talking to a perpetrator, then notwithstanding I'm on the lookout for whether he's trying to manipulate me, I'm standing with him too. Not liking what he's done. Not offering mindless support of the, "Yeh, yeh, yeh, poor you" variety, but nonetheless seeing, when I can, how he got to where he got to, and seeing, when I can, how he might make the rest of his life better than the bit so far.

Sometimes I worry about this chameleon brain thing that's befallen me (I didn't do it on purpose) but lo and behold I'm in kinda good company. Paul, one of the most important leaders of the early church said this: "I am a free man, nobody's slave (clearly he'd done the SPS course about not being manipulated) ; but I make myself everybody's slave in order to win as many people as possible. While working with the Jews, I live like a Jew in order to win them.... when working with Gentiles, I live like a Gentile... in order to win Gentiles.... Among the weak in faith I become weak like one of them, in order to win them. So I become all things to all men, that may save some of them by whatever means are possible".

It's a gift!

I worried for many years when I heard sermons in church about using your gifts etc. For many years I just thought to myself, "What gifts?"
I couldn't do anything artistic. I have no artistic gifts, unlike my dad.
I couldn't do anything musical. My piano teacher used to hit her head off the piano.
I couldn't be a nurse. I am squeamish and can't even watch Casualty.
I couldn't be a policewoman. I'm not brave.
I couldn't be a teacher. I'm not patient enough. My own kids exhaust me.
I couldn't be in catering. I'm not domesticated.
I am quite good at spelling and jigsaws but I don't know how to make a living out of those gifts.
However! In prison chaplaincy I have found I do have two gifts which I use all the time.
I'm good at drinking coffee and I'm good at listening to absolutely fascinating stories. Who knew?

"My son makes aliens", and other stories

"What does your son do?"
"My son makes aliens".
Of course he's only ten and one he grew out of some gunk in a test tube and one he made out of magnetix, but I think "My son makes aliens" has a good ring to it doesn't it? I wonder what he will do.




Youngest Child was dead proud this week because she got to go with her fellow Primary-3ers to Pizza Hut and make her very own pizza. All pleas from her siblings for a bit went entirely unheeded and the child who supposedly doesn't like pizza had it for tea, with a big side-helping of pride.




Penultimate Child is also a proud wee bunny having got through this morning's trials (8am on a Saturday - woe is me!) for the Swimming Club.

Firstborn? Well, no photos to prove it, thankfully, but (whispers) she's not in a great mood. She had two pals for a sleepover last night (that should read "wakeover") and between armfuls of sweets and some late night video watching, followed by having to be at the school at 8am today to get to an away hockey match, we are now all suffering. To be fair I admit I'm jolly grumpy when I'm tired too. (I appreciate you'll struggle to accept this is so.)

We went to visit my mother-in-law today, whose cancer which was in remission, has taken a poorly turn. It's sad. Please pray for her, and my father-in-law too. He's very anxious. Despite their best efforts to appear the opposite, they really are devoted to each other.

Workwise, it's been a good week, with some meaningful conversations, interesting meetings, and a good service on Friday. The previous Friday was the leaving night out for the outgoing Governor, which was a great laugh. Jail humour is something else! On Sunday I was conducting the service in a Perth church and, as I always do in these circumstances, I seized the chance to try and recruit more Christians to pray for prisoners. The obstacles these guys have to overcome to reinvent themselves as normal law-abiding citizens can be really huge, and although the media encourages us to condemn them, that's not God's way. EVEN, though, EVEN IF people have no sympathy for prisoners at all, they must surely see that efforts to help them integrate into society and "better themselves" will pay dividends in terms of our own safety, and the protection of potential future victims... But as Christians we're not called to have that motivation. We've to love because God first loved us. Sometimes I think the main distinguishing feature of the chaplain in a prison is that they exist outside the traditional "them and us" culture of staff and inmates. We're ALL sinners. It's a great leveller.

Whew! Made it to the Weekend!

That was the week that was, and I'm glad it's Friday. On Monday I was in both jails followed by an evening visit to a prisoner who is seriously ill in hospital, so was away from home for thirteen or fourteen hours, this on a day when the kids were off school. Don't panic, their dad was in charge, but of course I felt like a neglectful mum.

The children were off on Tuesday too - an in-service day for the teachers - so I took Tuesday off and we went down to the church cafe and they got, not only a hot chocolate and a scone, but the chance to play in the sports hall with various other random kids enjoying the freedom from school, while I had lots of chatting time with pals. However I had to "pop" into work in the afternoon (if half an hour each way is really popping) for my health screening. Hurray, I have a pulse and am officially alive!

On Wednesday it was the SPS Chaplains' Away Day. Yes, I know it sounds like buckets and spades and off to the beach but it's actually in a meeting room in the SPS college at Polmont, probably just as well in February. Wonderful talk on "disenfranchised grief". Grieving is very difficult in prison, and I will blog about that some other time as there's so much to say about it. I had to leave early, though, as Big Chief Him Indoors was at a CofS Special Commission meeting in Glasgow and I had to be home for the kids getting out of school. Of course I felt guilty for leaving early.

On Thursday I was in Edinburgh for a conference on Restorative Justice. Again, absolutely fascinating, and so much to say another time... I was planning to leave a bit early to be home in time for the first appointment (5.30pm) at our Firstborn's school Parents' Night, and I felt guilty about that. However it got worse than that because about 2.15 I suddenly remembered I had forgotten to go out at lunch time and top up my parking meter. I bolted and when I got to the car found I had a parking ticket for a cool £60. My distress at that was about to be put into perspective though when I looked at my phone which I had left in the car. There was a text message from Firstborn's school to say that she had not registered and where was she? It took me an hour to establish that she was in fact fine and had just been late and missed registration. It was a long hour!

Today, Friday, there was an all-day management meeting. I felt guilty for going because I hadn't had time really this week to spend with prisoners, which is what I regard as the bread-and-butter of my job, but I went anyway, and in spite of feeling guilty was finding it very interesting and worthwhile, when I got a text from Him Indoors to say that our Penultimate child had a sore tummy and had come home from school. It was so sore that although he had obtained a GP appointment for late afternoon he was now taking her up to the hospital's Accident and Emergency. So, I felt guilty for being at work and left early, feeling guilty for leaving early.

She's okay and home, with no diagnosis but the hope that it was "one of these things". She was hugely cheered by the arrival today of a Blue Peter badge the same as the one her brother got last week (the fruit of some pictures they did which their dad posted off for them).

Firstborn and Blue Eyed Boy are off for the weekend to Scripture Union camp, embarrassed no doubt by each other's presence but otherwise sure to have fun.

What a week, and I'm sure you're probably feeling the same about your own past week. Lots of our lives are the same. When you're dealing with the one thing, you're feeling guilty about neglecting the other things, and so on. But it's not an appropriate guilt, is it? Guilt's the thing you should have when you're sinning, not when you're just busy. So begone, false guilt! Cheerio! We don't need you!

Looking forward to a guilt free longish lie in the morning, and hopefully (!) a guilt free trip to the slimming club. Meanwhile I'll pray the end of Psalm 139 and ask to be shown the things I'm happily oblivious to that I OUGHT to be feeling guilty about and ain't!

"Search me, O God, and know my heart;
test me and know my anxious thaoughts.
See if there is any offensive way in me,
and lead me in the way everlasting".

Have you ever had one of these slinky toys that this happened to? I don't think they're fixable. I've tried! Some people's lives are in such a tangled mess that humanly speaking they are unfixable. Read on!

Almost all the services I have conducted over the past six months have been in the two prisons of I am now the chaplain. And it may or may not surprise you to learn that services in prison are not exactly like services in church. For one thing we don’t get huge numbers and for another people don’t sit beautifully quietly. But I really like services in prison and they’ve made me see bits of the Bible in a new light. For example recently we were looking at Ephesians 4, which for those of you like me who don’t know the Bible off by heart is a passage (written, incidentally, from prison) which says: “You were taught, with regard to your former way of life, to put off your old self, which is being corrupted by its deceitful desires; to be made new in the attitude of your minds; and to put on the new self, created to be like God in true righteousness and holiness”. (Ephesians 4:22-24)

That’s actually an amazing piece of God’s message – here it is in a slightly different version: “Since, then, we don’t have the excuse of ignorance, everything – and I do mean everything – connected with that old way of life has to go. It’s rotten through and through. Get rid of it! And then take on an entirely new way of life – a God-fashioned life, a life renewed from the inside and working itself into your conduct as God accurately reproduces his character in you”.

And then, since Paul likes the direct approach, he goes on to spell it all out: “No more lying then! … If you become angry, don’t let your anger lead you into sin, and don’t stay angry all day. Don’t give the Devil a chance. The man who used to rob must stop robbing and start working, in order to earn an honest living for himself and to be able to help the poor. Do not use harmful words…. Get rid of all bitterness, passion, and anger. No more shouting or insults, no more hateful feelings of any sort…. Do not get drunk with wine, which will only ruin you” – and so on.

I’ve read these words many times, and heard them read in church, but what an amazing experience to read them in prison. If you become angry, don’t let your anger lead you into sin – lots of your audience are in a prison service are in for violent assault or murder which was because they got angry and let their anger lead them into sin. The man who used to rob must stop robbing and start working, in order to earn an honest living for himself and to be able to help the poor. That’s a challenge for many who’re in for robbery or fraud. Do not get drunk with wine, which will only ruin you – lots of them are in for offences committed while drunk. Their lives are in a mess. And so, reading a passage like that in prison really makes it come alive – not because the rest of us aren’t sinners too but because the life change that’s demanded of these guys if they are to be Christians is so big, compared to someone who’s been brought up in the church and really just needs to kind of confirm for themselves that they believe what their parents and church has taught them all these years.

At the last but one service I did, a prisoner was just amazed by this passage and felt as if it was all written about him. He’s about my age now and he’s fed up with his life as he’s lived it up until now. He’s thrilled by this idea that you can put off your old self and put on a new self, and yet I can see that a bit of him doubts that such a thing is really possible. He yearns for it but he doesn’t just fully believe that it’s really possible. He wants this to be true for him but it seems impossible that it could happen.

Perhaps some of you might adopt that prisoner and pray for him – you don’t need his name because God’s got a note of it already – but pray that he will indeed be able to put off his old life of addiction and crime and put on this new life that he can see so clearly would help not just him but his wife and young family.

Why am I mentioning all this at the start of advent, when people read the Bible reading about Mary and the angel? Well, mainly because of what he said about wondering whether the change Ephesians 4 talks about and which he yearns for is in fact actually impossible because the answer’s in this bit of the Christmas story - it is that one line in the angel’s message to Mary, “For nothing is impossible with God”.

That's the key to it all really... lots and lots and lots of things are impossible for us but NOTHING is impossible with God. Even the apparently far-fetched and ridiculous, like the virgin birth. God made the rules and laws of nature so he can change them as he wishes. He can also untangle the tangled mess of a person's life, so they no longer need be sick and tired of being sick and tired of who they are but can become a new person. Impossible? NOTHING is impossible with God.