I decided before I left for college that I definitely wanted to join a sorority. Many of my family members were a part of the Greek system when they went to school and loved it. So why not?
I went through formal sorority recruitment and it didn't work out. I can't tell you why exactly, but it just didn't work out. But I was still determined, so I signed up for informal recruitment. I was invited over to Delta Delta Delta (DDD) for an event. There was a moment during one of the events where I just felt at home. I felt like I belonged in this house and I wanted SO badly to be a part of it. Thank goodness they felt the same way...a few days later I was offered a bid.
Being in the house made me the happiest girl in the world and had a huge part in making my college experience what it was. I had a house full of girls that I could turn to for anything and everything. People that used to be strangers suddenly became family. I was at home.
In my junior year, I decided that I no longer wanted to be a teacher. Five terms left of school and my life was directionless. I turned to my sisters and, even though they didn't have all the answers, they provided insight and comfort. Turns out that was exactly what I needed.
As I was spending some time in another room in the house, I asked one of the girls what class they were reading for. She began telling me about this class she was in called "Inside-Out." This class takes a small group of students from the university to the Oregon State Penitentiary, Oregon's maximum security prison, and inmates there become classmates. She had nothing but wonderful things to say about the experience. I asked her for more information about it and spoke to the instructor of the class about it. One thing led to another and, before I knew it, I was sitting with 14 other students from my university, learning about the dos and don'ts of prison.
Summer passed and school had started again. It was a lovely Oregon fall day and I loaded my car up with three other students for our journey to Salem. The car was buzzing with excitement and nerves, wondering what to expect. We parked and made the long walk to what has to be one of the most daunting looking buildings you'll ever see in your life. You go through a metal detector, trade your license for a red visitor badge, and listen to gates as they slam behind you. Five flights of stairs later and we're seated in chairs, anxiously awaiting the arrival of our classmates. They began to trickle in, all of them in blue, circulating the room, shaking our hands and asking to sit next to us. Once we started talking, you couldn't stop us. Life was good for people on both sides of the razor wire.
I can't remember a time when ten weeks went as fast as those ten weeks did. When our final class arrived, we celebrated. We ate too much. We laughed. We said goodbye. This wasn't a typical goodbye. This was a legitimate "I'm never going to see, hear from, or talk to you ever again" goodbye. Friends, that is the hardest kind of goodbye there is. It sucks.
As I drove away from the prison for the last time, I figured it out. The stories that these men shared, the heartbreak and they joy they brought willingly and beautifully to the table...those are what led me to consider correctional counseling. Those are what led to me to believe that these guys deserve a chance and someone who believes that.
I'm now in graduate school for counseling. I'm almost done...as in five and a half months left almost done (not that I'm counting). I'm in my internship at Hillcrest Youth Correctional Facility, one of the state's close custody facility for adjudicated young men. Many of the students at school say they have the best site. They are horribly wrong, because I know I have the best site.
Had it not been for the interesting title of the book that one of my sister's was reading, for the mini crisis that I was having, for not being a DDD, for not going through informal recruitment, for not choosing to join a sorority...I wouldn't be where I am today. People think I'm crazy for wanting to work in a prison, and I can see that. I get it. But the heart and the Lord lead you to exactly where you need to be. I guess cement walls, blue jeans, and razor wire is my calling.
No comments:
Post a Comment