Today will be the last time Sargent Bullock takes my keys and calls Charles for mentoring. Today will be our last time to sit in the cubicle and talk about whatever is on Charles’ mind. Today will be my last game of Uno with Charles. Today will be the last time we are together behind the fence.

Friday morning, Charles will walk through the fence a free man. He will be greeted at the guard’s station by his family, and his mom will take him to lunch, a buffet where he can eat as much as a 6’4” 17 year old can ever dream of eating. He will go to his new home, put on clothes that were not issued by the state, that are not the same as everyone around him, and be free.

For a year and a half, Charles has been counting down until this day, and while he would never admit it, I know he is scared. On Friday there is no certainty of schedule and regimen, or even the certainty of three meals a day. He will be surrounded by friends and family that knew him only before going behind the fence. He is no longer the same. He will have to establish the identity he has gained in over the past 18 months in a completely new environment. He will have to make wise choices on his own, with no one looking over his shoulder.

Over the past few weeks with Charles, I have realized how scary freedom actually is. How it is much easier to be told what to do and when to do it. To have a strict set of rules to follow and boxes to check off. Yet this is hardly the life Christ wants for us. Christ died so we may have a free and abundant life. And this is exactly the life I pray Charles finds when he walks through the fence.

I have no control over what happens next. After Friday morning, I may never see Charles again. However, I know I will continue to pray for him. I will pray that with his newly regained freedom he finds abundant life. I will pray that he makes the right decisions and is successful in everything he attempts. I will pray that he never takes his freedom for granted, but that it is a reminder of the life we were created for.

I hope Charles knows the overwhelming love God has for him, and that the Lord does not see him as a juvenile delinquent, but a son. I pray that Charles does not seek a new identity in his circumstances, or his “homies”, but is able to walk out of DJJ a FREE MAN. A man that has learned from his mistakes and continues to move forward.

I also pray that my time with Charles leaves a lasting impression on my heart. My time behind the fence has changed me as well, and I hope to never forget the precious moments I have had with Charles, the staff, and other volunteers. My time with Charles has been a continued reminder of the blessings God has given me, and that my identity is not found in what I do or who I am with, but my identity is found in the heart of Christ. I am his daughter, and I am greatly loved and adored by him.

Only the Lord knows what is ahead for me and Charles. Only he knows when, if, and how our paths will cross again. But I know that over the past 18 months we have changed each other. I will leave juvie today thankful for that time and relationship, and most importantly thankful for the lasting impression Charles has had on me.

The kids in juvie give back… I am privileged to volunteer with a Juvenile Justice program focused on more than keeping bad kids off the street, but actually showing them how to be a positive influence in their community.

A little more than a year ago, Steve and I met for the first time. He was barely taller than me now at 6’2” he towers over me when we meet. One year ago, he looked like a kid. Yesterday I noticed he looked like a teenager, a boy on the brink of becoming a man.

During our first meeting, we could barely come up with anything to talk about. A year later I am staying later to finish our conversations. We have a relationship. I know him and he knows me. He asks about my friends, family, roommates, and job. He is excited to share the few things he hears from his family.

Last year Steve seemed to lack ambition and focus. Now we are working on getting his GED and he is the lead worker in the on-site upholstery department. Whereas he came behind the fence with nothing, he will leave with over $1,200 that he has earned through hard work and dedication as well as forklift and brick masonry certificates.

However, during our first Christmas party we sang carols and took pictures with his “homie” who, a few days after being released, shot himself. Just another death. Yesterday Steve was elated because his mom is being released from prison on Friday yet he heard from his parole officer his father and brother had been locked up.

In two months, Steve will regain his freedom. While he is a completely different person, ready to take on the responsibilities of a man, the world outside the fence is still the same. He will encounter the same challenges he left. The same hardships he has been protected from behind the fence.

Leaving yesterday I was both encouraged and challenged. I am fortunate to see a life changed for the better. However, I have no control over the decisions Steve chooses to make as he re-enters circumstances I will never understand. I have no clue how much we will actually communicate, if I will actually be a part of his future failures and successes. Hopefully one day I will see Steve playing basketball on television instead of the local incarcerations. I pray we keep in touch and he stays out of trouble, but I also know that when he is finally free my only option is to pray.

Luckily I am confident that my prayers are powerful and effective. I know the Lord loves Steve and wants the best for him, much more than I can comprehend. I believe Steve can greatly exceed the expectations the world has on him. He is smart and kind and motivated. Steve can not only change the course of his life, but the lives of his family and friends as well. And whether or not I will ever know what happens, I am fortunate to have been a small part of his life.

**Names have been changed for their protection

Waiting for Steve, I was more nervous than I ever. I could hear juveniles banging on the doors of their solitary confinement cells. I knew that when he got to the room he would be cuffed, shackled, and in a jumpsuit instead of his state-issued khakis and collared shirt. We weren’t in the usual volunteer center. I came to visit him in lock-up, and lock-up felt like prison. Steve looked like a prisoner.

Last week I was informed he had been nominated for two awards for good behavior. There is a banquet Thursday night that we are both invited to attend. He had just made the basketball team, and his social worker was beginning to ask him questions about where he will go when he is released. However, now I was sitting in the solitary confinement dorm, all because of a crease in his pants that was against the dress code.

As he walked in, he knew exactly what I was going to ask:

Steve: Dey wouldn’t let me come to mentor.

Me: I know. They said you wouldn’t follow the dress code and that you were mouthing off all day.

Steve then explained to me his side of the situation that occurred the last time I came to see him. Apparently the officers wouldn’t let him come because of a crease in his pants. He asked for an iron, and they wouldn’t give it to him. He asked to see their supervisor, the “white shirt”, and they refused again.

Steve: So I knew how to get the white shirt. I flipped the couch over!

Me: (At this point my mouth dropped open). And you thought that would be effective?!

Steve: Yeah. It happened before. Boys flip the couches; the white shirt come; dey get they way. Instead they brought me here but dey supposed to drop the charges.

Throughout our conversation, I learned about offense codes and crazy things the boys do in the dorm. I also began to notice how tall Steve was becoming, which was only accentuated by the jumpsuit that was too short but still too big for the rest of his skinny body. I realized how much deeper his voice was, and how mature his face was beginning to look. Over the past year together, Steve had started to become a man. He is learning to make the right decisions and take responsibility for his mistakes.

We talked about how much he loved his mama, and how she was the only person he wanted to take care of him. His father had been absent for most of Steve’s childhood, and he didn’t want much to do with him. On the way home I began to think about how fast Steve was growing up. Soon he will be seventeen, and he doesn’t have a father to walk him through the process of growing up. In a few months, Steve will be outside the fence, ready to take charge of his life and make the right decisions.  And there is no man on the other side to help him.

Leaving juvie yesterday, I felt completely inadequate. I have absolutely no clue what it means to become a man. I didn’t have any brothers to watch go through the process and I have yet to have a family of my own. I began to pray for Steve and his future. I pray for a man to guide Steve through this process and that he knows his Heavenly Father is proud of him. Jesus wants Steve to become an honorable man and one day lead a family of his own. Jesus wants the cycle of fatherlessness broken. Once Steve is outside the fence, this will be all I can do. As for now, I will listen and gently guide Steve to make good decisions. I will tell him when he is acting stupid and I will laugh with him while he tells me stories. And when I leave with a broken heart I will cry for him. I will cry the tears that he is to proud to shed. There is so much more for Steve than he could even imagine and I know one day he will understand that. He will break the cycle his family has suffered from for so long.

**Names are changed for the protection of the individual**

The statement was so nonchalant, I almost didn’t think twice about it.

“Oh. Staten shot himself in the head.”

So normal. Like I shouldn’t be shocked.

About to move on to the next topic of discussion, I suddenly realized the weight of that statement, “Wait. Staten. Staten Bratton. Your homie. The one who hung out with us at the Christmas party. The one who was just released.”

“Yeah. Dey was playing that game… You know, the Russian one, with the one bullet.”

“Russian Roulette.”

“Dat’s da one. Apparently dey was doin cocaine or somthin’. I don’t know.” He responded, completely unphased.

“Are you sad?” I asked

“No.”

“Not at all? He was one of your best friends here.”

“Nah. I don’t really get sad. I get angry, not sad.”

“Are  you angry?”

“Nah. It’s just one of those things, I guess it was just his time.”

“Do you think it’s true? This isn’t the first rumor about Staten you have heard since he was released.” I asked.

“I don’t know. I don’t know what to believe. Der’s always so many rumors. A few weeks ago they was sayin that he got locked back up for crack,” Steve paused for a minute as I remained speechless, “Man. This place makes you worse off than you was before.”

I asked Steve what that statement meant, and if he thought that was always the case.

“Yeah. It seems like it happens all the time. People leave here. Die. Get locked back up. Get back into gangs. Get shot. Somethin just ain’t workin. Seems like this place makes you worse.”

“Do you think that will happen with you?”

“Nah. I am gon’ make something of myself. I ain’t gon’ do that. I ain’t gon’ die right when I get out. I ain’t gon’ get locked back up. I am gon’ get better. I am gon’ do better.”

As I left juvie, my friend Eboni confirmed that Staten had shot himself. He was in his own house, and there were three other boys in the room. Still in shock, I cried on my way home. I cried some more on a run. Staten was a joy to be around, and everyone behind the fence had seen such an improvement during his time there. Just before being released, however, he was beaten within an inch of his life. Most of his remaining time behind the fence was spent in the hospital. Apparently it was gang related. Apparently he wanted to get out.

Throughout the evening I prayer for Staten’s family, friends, and the other kids behind the fence who knew him. He had much younger siblings as well as a two year old son. I became burdened over such a broken system, a society where children fall through the cracks so easily. However, I found myself most upset by Steve’s reaction. The death of one of his closest friends behind the fence was just another event in his day. Something that happens on a regular basis. There is no shock value in unexpected death to a kid from the streets.

But hearing Steve’s declaration to make something of himself gave me a glimpse of hope in the midst of tragedy. Recently I have been thinking about when Steve is released. Hoping that we stay in touch. Praying that he doesn’t end up in the same situation he left. Being overly-logical sometimes, I was doubting that Steve could overcome his circumstance, beat the overwhelming odds stacked against him and was beginning to feel responsible for the outcome of his life.

Too many times in my life I get caught up in hypotheticals. I focus on something that may or may not happen twenty steps ahead. I have realized cannot let this taint my time behind the fence with Steve. I have to choose to focus on the hope that I know there is for him. I must hold on to the conversations with his teachers who speak so highly of his improvement. Steve does have an opportunity to do great things with his life, but that will come farther down the road and be completely out of my control. For now, I just have to focus on each day I spend with him, and pray that the Lord overcomes the incredible odds stacked against Steve.

I believe that God is good. I believe that God loves Steve more than he or I can ever imagine, and I believe God is bigger than the looming circumstances facing Steve. I believe that while it seems impossible, Steve can have a better life than his family and friends. His life does not have to end in tragedy, and I am grateful to have a small part in what God is doing. Each day, God is performing miracles in Steve’s life, and on that I will choose to focus.