Resurrection Bubbles

Easter 2002 was a very special day for me. I had just spent 56 days in jail. I had served as a trustee, working in the kitchen during my incarceration, so my 60 day sentence had been reduced. There was some uncertainty as to when I would in fact be released. Two different CO’s (correction officers) had two different opinions.

It began to look like I was going to have to wait to be released on Monday. I was okay with that. One more day wasn’t going to make that big of a difference. I was working in the kitchen, preparing for lunch, when the CO came into the kitchen and asked my supervisor what I was still doing there.

The staff had finally come to an agreement that I should be released on Sunday. Easter Sunday. I started to cry tears of relief. Then I began to cry tears of frustration. It was after 10:00am when the finally told me. Everyone I knew would be in church. I was processed out but couldn’t leave. So I called home and left the message for my husband to come get me when he got home, and I went back to the kitchen to work the lunch.

No one could believe that I would willingly go back to work. Their bafflement baffled me. I couldn’t do anything less. There, in the most potentially depressing and defeating time of my life, I had found so many blessings. Working lunch was one way to say thanks. In fact, I was so grateful that for several weeks following my release, I was granted permission to return to the jail and volunteer my time in the kitchen.

I thought about that time more this week than I thought I would. The last few days at work when I was testing those regulators I was looking for bubbles as an indicator that there was leakage. I “played” with bubbles when I was in jail, too.

There were two of us women who were trustees most of the time I was in jail. We worked well together. It got to the place where we finished each other’s thoughts and anticipated the other’s needs. Lisa had been in jail several times, was familiar with the system and the CO’s. She watched out for me, was a friend to me. Until I started playing with bubbles.

When we cleaned up after a meal, I scraped and washed while she rinsed and dried. Sometimes there were so many things to wash that I would have to refill the sink several times. When I would put more detergent in the water and try to get the bottle to squirt bubbles. Lisa hated bubbles…or at least she said she did. I got pretty adept at making a large stream of bubbles and sometimes I could even aim them at Lisa. When I did she would threaten me with the sprayer. And we would giggle and laugh right there in the jail kitchen. People told us we were having too much fun.

That’s just how I am, though. I look for the positive. I dig out the good. I find a reason to smile, to laugh. And I will find it! Sometimes it’s a challenge, but if it can be found I will find it. I take joy in bringing smiles to others. I laugh at myself—a lot. Somewhere at the beginning of my faith journey someone gave me James 1:2 as a verse to live by. So I look for ways to count it all joy. That’s probably why those sad days like I wrote about a couple weeks ago hit me so hard. Like a tsunami, they hit out of nowhere and hit hard.

So this Easter I celebrate resurrection. I celebrate freedom. I celebrate hope, bubbles, and the power of God that takes brokenness and restores it to usefulness. I celebrate life!