A Reflection of Hope

Tuck hasn’t been the same lately.

I’ve known him for over a year. When he first joined our guitar program at Metro Regional Youth Detention Center he was talkative, bright, and engaged.

But over the last few months, something changed. He started showing up to class with his face hidden behind a surgical mask. He can barely focus. When the guard comes around to distribute medications, she announces out loud for all to hear, “Tuck refusing medications again.” Technically it’s protocol, but it feels cruel nonetheless.

One day in class we were learning the chords to “Folsom Prison Blues,” or as my students call it, “The Train Song.”

For once, Tuck paid attention. With a little help, he nailed the guitar solo and actually sounded good – really good in fact. So good that I gave him my personal guitar to see how he sounded on something a little nicer. A beautiful sound rang out.

I asked, “Tuck, when are you going home?”

“June,” he quietly replied.

“Can I get you a guitar when you go home so you can keep practicing?”

I saw a light return to his eyes. I light I haven’t seen in a long time.

“I’d really like that.”

I told him, “You know what, you like my guitar so much, I’ll just give you that one.”

He gazed down at that beautiful guitar. In his hands, he held something sacred. “You being for real?”

“Yup. It’s yours. I’ll meet you in June when you go home. And we’ll get some good food too.”

Proverbs 27:19 says, “As water reflects the face, so one’s life reflects the heart.”

In the lacquered wood of my guitar, I saw the reflection of Tuck’s masked face. A face that’s endured incarceration, pain, and trauma. A face figuratively and literally scarred by life.

He pulled down the mask. I saw a smile. A smile that reflected the heart.

May your heart be happy.