The gift of Presence

Photo by Ed Aust
by John Ilkka

December can often feel like a fast month. Christmas, and to a lesser extent, New Year’s, can require a lot of thought and preparation. Gifts need to be purchased, meals need to be planned, and decorations must be taken out of storage and displayed. While the list of things that need to be done is long, there is often satisfaction and memories built around the gathering of family and togetherness. While time-consuming, decorations can go a long way to make the season bright, especially as the daylight hours get shorter and the weather becomes less appealing. Christmas music, nostalgic or contemporary, does wonders to get us into the mood and feeling of joy. All that preparation for something that seems to be over in the blink of an eye!

For some, however, December can drag on. For them, their surroundings may have the appearance and feel of every other day; they know what is going on, but more importantly, they know what they are missing. During my time as a Prison Chaplain in Canada, I spent a small part of my Christmas with men who were in the Ontario Thunder Bay District Jail during two Christmas seasons. There are no Christmas lights, trees, or music played during this time for those in prison, so it doesn’t feel like anything is special or different. There is no gathering with family or friends—except maybe for a phone call home if someone is willing to take some time and answer the phone. It is for this reason that this is one of the worst times to be in prison. The one notable and arguably most important difference for those in prison during Christmas is the food. While it is quite distant from anything most people would consider serving, its appearance somewhat resembled a “nicer” meal by prison standards.

While there are certain dangers you are probably aware of for those in prison, one of the worst things is the separation from loved ones, not to mention being unable to be there for them or to protect them. One of the saddest things I experienced was having to let a client know that his brother had passed away. In a prison setting, weakness and vulnerability are dangerous for one’s health. So after I let him know about his brother, he gave himself about three seconds to cry and mourn for his brother before I witnessed him forcibly compose himself, wipe the affect off his face, and then return to his cell—quickly—to not give the appearance that he was telling or snitching on his peers. The result? He was unable to grieve the loss of his brother while in prison and had to stuff his feelings down deep for another time. Added to these feelings was the pain of not being able to protect his brother because he was in prison. While it is true that most people in prison are there due to some combination of their actions, it is also true that incarceration can be one of the loneliest times in a person’s life.

In this place and during this season, the days can seem to drag on, with minutes feeling like hours and hours feeling like days. While I was not able to transport their families to the jail, I was able to do two main things to support them. The first, and what I felt was most important, was my being there for them—to be really present: I could look at them with a smile, sometimes the only smile they would see during their entire time in prison. While this is a small and seemingly insignificant act, there were certain periods when it was all that could be done: to acknowledge that they existed and let them know I noticed them. When there were fewer restrictions, I was able to talk with them and, for a few moments, take their minds off being in prison and away from their loved ones. Another thing I was able to do for them was to connect them with organizations like Prison Fellowship, which offered programs that allowed clients to send presents to their children on their behalf. The reality is that while prison may be necessary, it impacts more than just the individual who is sentenced. Programs like this can play a small role in keeping connections strong between those in prison and their families. These were some of the small ways we were able to show love to incarcerated individuals during the Christmas season.

This is what I’d like to leave my readers with: While the hustle and bustle of the Christmas season can sometimes feel overwhelming, we usually find it worthwhile—it helps make the time special. Christmas doesn’t feel the same without the lights, decorations, music, festive food, or family gatherings. Christmas is more than all of these things; the celebration of Jesus’ birth is the reason for the season. However, as humans, the externals often help support our internals; for many, Christmas wouldn’t feel the same without them.

This season, I invite you to follow Scripture’s example by remembering and praying for those in prison. Merry Christmas!

John Ilkka, born in Thunder Bay, Ontario, is a twenty-something-year-old lover of love. He values faith, family, friends, and football. In his spare time, he likes to create and play board games while listening to podcasts.

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