The Story of Carl

I asked Daniela, “What did you see inside that prison that surprised you the most?”

She had just volunteered with HeartBound for the first time and used to work for a nonprofit up North, so she’s seen a thing or two. 

She paused carefully before answering. 

“It was abundantly clear that nearly everyone in that prison had some sort of disability. Whether developmental or physical or psychological.”

I nodded. 

One thing I’ve learned is that prisons exist for people who have been failed by every other social system. Education, healthcare, government, and even families. Many of these men and women are the products of immense trauma and they don’t know how to respond or get help. And consequently, they end up in prison.

She added, “When I worked for that nonprofit, I saw that so many people had a diminished capability to choose between right and wrong because of their upbringing, circumstances, or their disability. But they’re held to the same standard and end up locked away.”

Carl is one of those people who’s been locked away. He was failed by the systems put in place by our society, systems designed to make our society a better, safer, smarter place. 

Let me paint a picture of Carl for you. He’s very short, undersized, and not much bigger than the middle schoolers I work with at Sutton Middle School. I can imagine prison has been a very scary place for him. He’s most definitely somewhere on the spectrum and his hearing is severely impaired. Because he can’t hear his own voice, he speaks in this high pitched, uncertain, child-like tone. 

Two remarkable things happened in Carl’s life recently, both involving HeartBound and the kindness of Carl’s fellow man. 

A horticulture student of ours, Tim, brought Carl to Alpha with him. For the first two weeks, Carl quietly participated as best he could. One evening after class, Tim approached me with a simple request. Carl had no way to communicate with his family because of his disability. Could HeartBound help him get a device for the hearing impaired? I spoke with the facility’s superintendent who was unaware of the challenge Carl faced. He quickly arranged to make accommodations for Carl. 

The following week, Carl approached me smiling. He said the same thing over and over. Thank you, thank you, thank you, tears streaming down his cheeks. He held the device up to me, repeating the words. Nothing more needed to be said. 

During the last Alpha class, I flipped through the PowerPoint with the lyrics to the song we were singing together, led by Alpha volunteer and musician Evan. At the front of the room stood Carl, singing along. As we sang Amazing Grace, Carl raised his hands, boldly proclaiming that he was once lost, but now found. As I was preparing to walk out of the room, he tapped me on the shoulder. “Thank you,” he said in his unique voice. I thought he was thanking me for the device once more. Of course, I replied that we were happy to help and were glad that he could talk to his family. He stopped me. 

“No,” he replied, pointing at the TV. “For having the words so I could sing along.”

Carl, the small statured man with the troublesome ears and the broken voice, had finally felt seen and heard. He’d found the same thing we’re all looking for – a sense of love and belonging.

None of this happens without you, the people who support this ministry monetarily. Those who pray for our ministry. Those who volunteer their time and energy to serve the incarcerated. Good superintendents in prison who care about the people they’re placed in charge of. Incarcerated men and women willing to say yes and show up to a weekly program with a bunch of strangers. This is God at work, and God is good. 

In Edith Egir’s masterpiece The Choice, she writes, “To run away from the past or to fight against our present pain is to imprison ourselves. Freedom is in accepting what is and forgiving ourselves, in opening our hearts to discover the miracles that exist now. You can’t change what happened, you can’t change what you did or what was done to you. But you can choose how you live now. My precious, you can choose to be free.”

May we all be free. 

God bless, and thank you, thank you, thank you. 

Spencer