Vacant Eyes

Somewhere, tonight, there is a man sitting in a prison cell. It is loud, chaotic, and stark. He lays on a cot, gazing up at his ceiling. He feels nothing. His eyes are as vacant as his heart.

He should be scared, and remorseful, but he's long forgotten what those emotions feel like.

So he lays there, and stares, as isolated as the cell he now calls home.

Today my Dad went to prison. He has been sentenced to serve 8 years, and 8 months. If he were to serve his full term, I will be 25 when he is released.

I’m not sure what to think. . .

To be honest, I've been staring at the last sentence for the past 20 minutes, attempting to formulate a thought. Perhaps I should meditate on how God is my true father? Or maybe I should consider how He is in control, even through the most dire of circumstances? Maybe, just maybe I'm too grieved to think at all right now. Maybe best to leave this to prayer.

With prayer, comes clarity. . .

Prison, while a horrible chastening, is an opportunity for my dad to focus on what's important without the distraction of general life. For a man struggling with the concepts of right and wrong, and the responsibilities of manhood, time out is not just a punishment, but an opportunity to refocus. What mercies The Lord provides for even another day of new beginnings and breath.

Lord you hold the very life of every man in the palm of your hand. You alone, are sovereign over every circumstance, and every action. I trust you completely, knowing that nothing happens without your allowance. While this is hard . . . hard hard hard . . . your will be done, Father! I surrender my heartbreak, and my dad to you.

~LL.