I am going to attempt to describe the events of this Sunday but I am not sure I can aptly put into words the feelings of the day. I have been preparing to go with Art Romero to Soledad Correctional Facility (CTF) for the past 6 months and Sunday was my baptism by fire.

I would first like to begin by remembering my father Glen, who after retiring from the Army in 1952 took a job at the correctional facility for a short time as a guard, now called staff. The facility at that time was fairly new but it seems in my long since dimmed consciousness I remember going to the prison with my father to take a tour.  As I entered with Art, a certain feeling came over me that I had been there before.

The volunteer orientation and training class I attended in July at the prison was conducted for the intent of preparing me for interaction with the inmates. I came away from the class expecting those on the inside to try and manipulate me into helping them get something from the outside or to do them a favor. I was told they would test me as a new volunteer and that I was not to tell them much about me and to let them know that I could not help them with any requests they might have.

It was quite a psychology lecture, to say the least. Well, such was my preset mind.

Art picked me up at 8:30am and we arrived at the prison at 9am. We immediately drove around the prison I remembered to a newer facility, Salinas Valley Prison, which dwarfs the older prison in size and security intensity. Three 20 foot high fences surround this complex and the middle fence is charged with 200,000 volts of electricity! NO one is going to escape this place. It is in fact a maximum security area that houses the most hardened criminals that have committed every imaginable heinous crime. So here I go into the middle of the fray, right? Yep!!!! We walked through central and showed our badges and they let us in. The complex was in a lock down phase and had been for the past month or so due to somebody losing something that was deemed dangerous. Lock down means that the prisoners do not leave their cells except to take a 10 minute shower every third day!!!! We came into the first cell block after an overhead guard lowered a plastic container by rope and we deposited our badges for him/her to check. This guard was heavily armed and has a view of the outside of the complex as well as the entire inside cell population. It is a two story 'dormitory' with a large staging area(day room) between the cells and the entrance. Prisoners were indeed showering and I thought that this must be an all day and night ordeal if you consider the number of men times 10 minutes, plus they are not just let out to go shower. A guard must handcuff them first after they protrude their wrists through an opening in the cell door, then the guard must escort them to the shower and remove their handcuffs using the same process. The showers are converted cells that face into the staging area and are easily seen by the staff. I saw what they saw. There are no prison bars on the doors. They are all electronically operated and there are but one or two long rectangular windows in each cell door. The cells could not be more than half the size of our dining area here in the house. Pretty meager!!! Pretty grim!!

Under normal non-lock down conditions, Art is able to meet with all LDS affiliated inmates in each particular yard in a special room designated as a chapel. He keeps supplies of literature and church materials in this room under lock and key to prevent the non-LDS inmates from stealing and ransacking but other religious groups who share the same room!!!!! Quite a paradox isn't it? During the allotted meeting time, an announcement is made in the various cell blocks that Mormon services are being held. Inmates are escorted to the 'chapel' room and services are conducted for one and a half hours. The Sacrament is not administered as a matter of church policy.

Another way to meet with the prisoners as a group during lock down is to enter the cell block as we did and meet in the day room referenced above.  There are small round tables set up with 4 chairs, and now as I recall, these were firmly planted and anchored in the ground to prevent anyone from using them as a weapon. Yikes!!! The 'staff' then escorts each prisoner to the table area and we are able to meet with them for the proscribed time.

When we entered the block and requested to meet as a group, we were denied this request because of the showering process which requires the full time effort of the staff. So, the final way to meet with the inmates is what we had to settle for which is described as a cell door visit, our first being with a man named Brian. We got his attention through the small window in his cell and he came to the door and we were able to talk with him through the one half inch wide gap between the sliding cell door and the overlapping wall behind. Here was a man covered with tattoos, who has spent time in D yard which is solitary confinement for those who do bad things while in prison, talking about spiritual things and wanting to feel the spirit. It was an eye-opener for me. I could feel instantly that he 'hungered and thirsted' for righteousness. He took responsibility for his actions, as did all with whom we met, which was not what I expected. Usually, the blame lies with someone else or they do not even acknowledge that they had committed a wrong. We visited with several others using the cell door method and each had a particular story but each were glad to see us for whatever reason. Again, the spirit bore witness that we were doing a good thing.

Being in a lock down situation cut short our morning rounds of meetings, so we moved over to the Correctional Training Facility which is the original late 40's early 50 structure in which my father worked as a tower guard. We entered Chapel 1 to a rousing protestant meeting with well over a hundred inmates in attendance. A visiting choir from Oakland was singing which was followed by a prison choir of 10 men, mostly of negro descent. They sang the blues like nobodies business, and the music was loud and almost raucous. Art wanted me to experience the other side of prison religious life. In fact, most other major denominations are represented in one form or another by visiting reverends, parishioners and the sort all trying to help their converts. It is by no means a slight to them, for they are doing the best they know how to help these hopeless men. For me, the music does not do it though. It carries no spiritual significance and is for show only.

We ate lunch in the snack bar located just outside the Correctional Facility and then returned to conduct our 1pm meeting. Five good brethren were in attendance and the spirit was very evident from the beginning. Here were 'lifers' coming to be spiritually fed and clothed. Art asked me to sing a hymn to which I obliged and sang "I Know That My Redeemer Lives" I was particularly moved by Danny Plunkett, a man in his early 40's, who has been imprisoned since age 19 and who has no hope of parole. His story is one of falling away from the church at an early age and committing a heinous crime for which he must pay a life long penalty to society. However, his countenance shown with the Atonement of the Savior, for he has found it working in his life. It is so apparent that this young man has been seeking forgiveness and either has obtained or will obtain it. I marveled how this was done and have addressed this in my blog dated August 31. I am actually just finishing this excerpt on the 31st and it has required much thinking and pondering to do so. It might be obvious that this whole experience has affected me to a great degree. There are lessons I am going to learn, sermons I will preach, testimonies I will bare, and truths that will be revealed as a result of this new adventure in my life.

We finished the day in the South yard, a minimum security area where the inmates are either finishing longer sentences or are being incarcerated for briefer periods of time, usually one to three years. Again, a small flock of 6 men including two nonmembers greeted us. I sang "Oh My Father", a Capella, for these good men and we had a wonderful spiritual outpouring. I bore testimony to them to have faith and hope and that I knew they could be forgiven. I told them it would be my pleasure to return and share these moments with them again, something I am eagerly looking forward to.

Upon reflection of the events of the day, I have to be honest and say that I felt 'refreshed'. How can that be? I thank my Heavenly Father for giving me that feeling, for it is just not what I expected. It is what I now know to be a gift of the spirit, a gift of love unfeigned, and a gift of forgiveness in my heart and mind.

The weekdays following this singular experience in my life were filled with other spiritual manifestations, manifestations brought to mind as a result of serving others. I helped Brother Ogborn and Sister Miljarak get updated on NewFamilySearch and helped Malena Van Gundy prepare names for her upcoming Temple Trip.

Sam Jenkinson and Wally Spier from the Second Ward drove with me to the Temple for our Wednesday evening shift work. I officiated in the 4pm Endowment Session in the big room. All was well. I do feel the spirit as I officiate in these ordinances and realize more fully that I am helping each patron in attendance progress along the path to perfection and immortality. I pray I will never take such a responsibility lightly.

And so this lengthy discourse is completed, but I can testify that the Hand of the Lord has blessed me this week in a very real and marvelous way.