Cassius [name changed to protect privacy] sat in the back of the room. His already small frame looked even smaller as he sunk into the well-worn chair. He glanced around the room, eyes shifty and nervous. I had to call out his name several times to get his attention. When he finally answered, his voice was a hoarse whisper. Every other Tuesday evening HeartBound leads a men’s group at the Atlanta Transitional Center. The topics vary from financial literacy to science to wha

Robert wouldn’t leave me alone. He was like a shadow, following me closely as I moved through the garden. Every time I stopped to lean over and check a plant, he leaned to check. Every time I stopped to talk to a student, he hung back, trying to act like he couldn’t hear our conversation. I was getting a little annoyed. I finally stopped and turned to him. “Robert, what’s on your mind today?” His face drew uncomfortably close to mine. “Spence, you know I’ve been doing

Their eyes grew big like saucers. “Mr. Spence, you want us to do what ?” I told the boys that they had heard me correctly. 100 things. Not 10, not 50, but 100 . Moans filled our classroom. Eyes rolled. Torey sat in the back, smiling. He stood up and encouraged them in his thick Latino accent. “When I was a juvie just like you Spence gave me the same assignment. I thought I couldn’t do it. But I did. And you can too.” I thanked him. I thought back to those early da

Juan leapt in the air. Rapidly descending from above him was a small, green, plastic ball. He cranked his arm backwards, then whirled it forward. The racket ignited with the ball. The ball shot forward, cleared the net, then rocketed down. It grazed the concrete just inside the boundary line, then skidded out of bounds. George had read Juan’s spike perfectly. He was in position and ready. He swung his paddle through the air, a clean forehand. He whiffed. I calle

6 AM Wednesday morning. As I get older, I become more of a morning person. I make my coffee, crack the door open to let in some fresh air, and listen to the world spin outside. Outside my apartment, there’s a beautiful Japanese Maple. This year I watched its leaves transform from dark red to bright gold. It was glorious. Every holiday season, HeartBound prepares Thanksgiving and Christmas meals for our students. These special meals are a wonderful time to bring everyone

The last guests were filtering out the doors. All was peaceful, our first slow moment of the day. Then, a loud cry from down the hallway. I dropped the box I was carrying and turned towards the noise. A woman was hunched over, hand over her mouth, crying. Andrea stood next to her. What was happening? I looked at Grace with alarm. “That’s her in the photo, Spencer.” At this woman’s feet was an oversized photo printed on foam board. The photo showed a woman singing in

The weather outside was indeed frightful. A cold wind howled outside the weathered windows at the Atlanta Transitional Center. A chilly frost nipped through cracks in the window frames. I kept my jacket on and collar pulled tight. Outside, a cold, bleak landscape. But inside this prison, there was joy. The men sang Christmas carols. The volunteers handed out plates of food and Christmas cookies. Everyone seemed to be filled with Christmas cheer. I stepped to the pod

Let me share with you how I know that we’re doing something right. Roadblocks are getting thrown up left and right at the facilities we work in. You see, Evil is trying to stop Good. But it won’t succeed. I was tempted to list and explain every roadblock, a sort of “airing of grievances.” I wanted to complain and show you just how unfair we’ve been treated lately. But I won’t. I’ll just tell you straight up - working inside prisons has not been easy lately. Not that

I wish I could say that getting out of prison is the easy part. That once you’re released, life is so much better. That those hopes and wishes you had dreamt up during your incarceration become actualized. That life becomes normal again. That family, friends, and your neighborhood welcome you home with open arms. But release from prison is not a new beginning or a second chance for many of the men, women, and teenagers we work with. Instead, it’s often just the continua

Audrey entered the room with a nervous energy that filled the air, thick and unmistakable. ​ “Is this the program where we get to read for our kids?” she asked, her voice filled with enthusiasm. “Yes,” I replied. A few minutes passed as we waited for other women to arrive. I realized that she’d be our only reader that afternoon. Normally, that might have left me feeling disappointed. But not today. Today felt different. We sat together and talked about choosing books for

They call him “Grasshopper.” I don’t know his government name and if I were to ask around the prison, I doubt anyone else does. Just Grasshopper. Grasshopper has spent more time in prison than anyone I’ve ever met. Over fifty years. He’s a short guy with a mean attitude. Grasshopper doesn’t like me. He is one of the prison’s orderlies, meaning, he’s essentially tasked with doing the bidding of the prison’s administration. He walks staff down the hallway, conducts inspec

I recently read an article about Cognitive Behavioral Therapy (CBT) being used by nonprofits in Chicago to prevent violence. Murder rates are falling nationwide and sociologists are trying to figure out why. Some believe CBT programming might be one of the reasons. I filed the article away in my mind, thinking that CBT might be worth trying in prisons one day. We are always looking for “what works”. Later that week, I was at Burruss Correctional Training Center for a gradua

We wish you could’ve been with us at Whitworth Women’s Facility—but in a way, you were. You’ve been with us all along. Grace, Andrea, I, and HeartBound board members Lucy Fugate and Lara Woods gathered to celebrate the third graduating class of the seminary program. In case you didn’t know, HeartBound funds the first and only seminary program for incarcerated women in the state of Georgia. To date, 16 women have received associate degrees and 11 have received bachelor’s deg

Today, I want to tell you about Tristan. Tristan and I did not get off on the right foot. I write to tell you about how far he’s come and what he’s accomplished. His story is one of the countless stories we encounter time and time again at HeartBound Ministries, thanks to your support, prayers, and a lot of help from God. The first time I met Tristan, he was not happy to see me. He wore a scowl on his face. I instinctually knew that it was his first day in “big boy pr

I asked the room, “Show of hands, how many of you have disappointed before?” Before I could glance up from the lectern I continued, “Okay, I see that it’s everyone. Good.” “You see, I’ve come to realize something. Everything in life will let you down. Your family and your friends will let you down. The parole board will let you down. Your teacher (pointing to myself), will let you down. Your girlfriend or wife will let you down. Sports will let you down, you’ll either get

“Spence, how old are you?” I didn’t even know his name. It was his first day in our horticulture class at Georgia Diagnostic and Classification Prison. He’d introduced himself earlier but was so quiet I couldn’t understand what he was saying. “Twenty-eight,” I replied. We’d spent the last hour or so working side by side in the garden. New to the class, he volunteered for the easiest task, clearing rocks out of the garden beds. As I watched him pick up rock after rock, I sa

Jasmine sat in front of a sewing machine for the first time, her hands fidgeting with unfamiliar knobs, her voice edged with frustration. She had come to HeartBound’s quilting class at the Metro Transitional Center, unsure of what to expect—and even more unsure of herself. I stood beside her and gently pointed out the parts of the machine, explaining how they worked together. “Yes, you will,” I told her. “Because we’re here to teach you, to help you, and to show you how to

If you’ve ever “bombed” in front of a crowd, you’ll understand how I was feeling. But let me back up before I explain. A torrential downpour welcomed me as soon as I arrived at our monthly Tuesdays Together meeting at the Atlanta Transitional Center. I was drenched to the bone as I waited outside for the volunteers to arrive. I glanced at my watch—three minutes to showtime. Only four volunteers had arrived. We’d been averaging 15 the past few months. I figured the rain ha

I’ve been with HeartBound for four years now. Whenever someone new hears about my job, I know to immediately expect a million questions. One of them being – “What are the people you work with in prison for?” My answer is nearly always the same: “I don’t know.” And that’s the truth. A common misconception about prison is that everyone knows what everyone else is “in” for. The details of someone’s offense are rarely – if ever – discussed. A lot of prisoners don’t talk to

Every other Tuesday, HeartBound hosts a horticulture/financial literacy class at the Atlanta Transitional Center. We cook a hearty meal for our 14 or so attendees, play a goofy game called “Juice, Jam, and Jelly,” and then spend an hour teaching. I love these men deeply; most I’ve known for over two years. Because it’s a transitional center, I can bring in my laptop, which makes teaching a lot easier. That evening in my kitchen, my mind raced through the list of possible to