My wife and I are driving from our home in Providence, Rhode Island to the airport. We pass the exit for Route 37. Years ago, I used to take Route 37 to get to Pontiac Avenue. Pontiac led me to the state prison.
From 1994-1997, I was part of a group that conducted evening Quaker Meetings for inmates. It was a quiet gathering where we sat in silence, “listening inward” for inspiration. Anyone could speak if they felt led and the meeting concluded with a handshake. Sometimes, inmates spoke. Other times, no one did.
Waiting in silence with inmates was unlike anything I’d ever done before.
The exit to Pontiac Avenue often makes me wonder what’s happening at the prison. The Providence Journal runs frequent stories about the prison: Staffing shortages, crowding, leadership changes. I’ve never read a story about inmates and visitors seeking inspiration in silence.
Passing the exit brings up questions too. My wife has heard them many times. Why did I volunteer for prison ministry? Did I help any inmates? Did I miss something? I think about that most often. Was there something that happened at the prison, and in other parts of my life back then, that I overlooked?
We approach the airport. I follow the sign: Departures. Bethany says, “Why don’t you write about it?”
I come to a stop behind a van. “Where would I start?”