Jesus came down from Heaven to be born a little human baby, in a humble family, in a stable where animals live. A star shone the way. When Jesus became a man, He began His mission by reading from the prophet Isaiah. “I have come to set the prisoners free,” he said, “to declare the opening of prison doors to those who are bound.” Yesterday I visited my husband Jose in Corcoran State Prison. Listen to what happens inside a Prison Visitation Room. Governor Newsom of California has ignored my many pleas to free my husband from prison. Nudge him for me, please. Yet I have hope. I remember the prisoner as if bound with him. I know that Jesus sets the prisoner’s free!
All I want for Christmas is my husband free from prison. Why have you ignored me for 4 years, Governor Newsom of California?
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Not many people want to go into a prison. Those locked inside want very much to get out. I know more about prisons than most people because I used to teach inside one. When I had survived a sad series of abusive relationships, I swore off men. I just wasn’t looking to get hurt again. But Christ’s amazing light can shine into the saddest hearts, the darkest places . . .and so I met the one man I have ever truly loved, the one man who has ever truly loved me–my elusive Soulmate I had searched for all over the world.
A prison guard once said, “The best men are in prison.”
That can be true, for men who have been shut behind bars have so much time to think, to face themselves–and so much time to hear God speak to them–and so much time to change. Of course, not all prisoners choose to let Jesus turn a hard, stone heart to a sweet and living one. But some do, and so I met one, a man born in Mexico, who had lived much of his life in California, who had committed a crime (not rape or murder) as a teenager, had the “Book thrown at him,” and had stared emptily at a too-long sentence. Years. He once considered letting himself go Crazy, like some other inmates with long sentences do. I’m so glad he didn’t do that! I’m so blessed that he didn’t give up on life, on love.
“God speaks to me,” Jose told me when we first exchanged a private conversation inside a prison classroom. “He has to, in here.”
Some of my favorite cards that Jose made for me
Jose gave me an old-fashioned Christmas card, and then a colorful New Year’s card made by his own hands. I tried to return them but couldn’t. So began our Epic Love Story, our Prison Love. We exchanged notes and letters. He asked me to marry him. I wrote “yes” on a pink post-it note and handed it to him. We got caught. I lost my job, moved when they transferred Jose, then visited him every other weekend. Three years ago we exchanged private marriage vows (with silver rings) on the private prison courtyard where other prisoners and visitors rarely entered. Then California Governor Newsom outlawed private prisons, and Jose was transferred from a dormitory situation with lots of programs and freedom of movement and time in the yard–to scary, huge old Corcoran State Prison, in the middle of nowhere, where infamous prisoners like Charles Manson lived and died.
California’s Scary Old Corcoran State Prison
Then Covid struck, and for most of 2 years, they cancelled all prison visitation.
Our love endured. Somehow, even when Jose couldn’t call me for 2 weeks because of another Lockdown, our love grew. We wrote each other letters. He made more colorful cards for me. The greatest gifts are made with one’s own hands! I framed my favorite cards. I marked in red the best words in his letters. Jose had learned to speak, read, and write well in English. I had learned not to give up on love and to stop considering the word “Soulmate” an imaginary Hollywood invention.
Jesus can surprise us with amazing gifts, even when we’re no longer looking.
Before Jose was transferred to Corcoran, we filled out the marriage papers and were ready for our prison wedding. That was almost 3 years ago. Then came the transfer, Covid, Lockdowns. We filled out more paperwork and waited. I got to visit Jose more often. Spring reached out to us after a cold and lonely winter.
In this photo, you can see Jose’s silver wedding ring
A month ago, in June, Jose and I were married inside that scary, Russian Gulag-Style prison. I had gotten a little used to its many gates and walls and guards, but still I paced up and down the Visitation Room for half an hour because the Wedding Coordinator’s letter advised I arrive early for our wedding. I wore Jose’s favorite dress, a mix of golden flowers. Finally they let him into the Visitation Room. We sat at a low, big round table in children’s chairs (the prison didn’t want us too comfortable). We both looked stressed yet excited. The Minister arrived, wearing a purple suit and tie. We signed the marriage license. He led us to a corner of the crowded room. He let Jose take my hands in his. We faced each other, the touching so wonderful in a place where human contact was vastly controlled or forbidden. We repeated vows, both nervous. We exchanged rings. His silver ring shone like a mirror, and I thought that it must be one of the most beautiful things I had ever seen, on his tanned hand, near my whiter hand with its girlish silver ring and single crystal. We touched faces and noses to each other, free of the mandatory face masks for a moment. I wanted to kiss him, but I knew we couldn’t. The room had grown silent as other prisoners and their visitors watched our little drama.
“I love you so much,” we whispered to each other.
The simple ceremony over, we turned to face the quiet room. Suddenly everyone in it clapped for us. A few people said, “Congratulations!”
We shared chocolate cupcakes and Cokes from the expensive vending machines. We didn’t get a wedding night. By 2:30 on that afternoon, I had to leave Jose. We got one long, close hug together–masks on. I molded my body to his, wishing we could have half an hour alone together. His strong back and shoulders felt wonderful beneath my hands. Jose worked out for me. I ate well and exercised for him. True love makes you be the best for one another!
On the way back through heavy doors and barbed-wire gates, a woman visitor said to me, “Congratulations.” How strange to find kindness in such a place! What other treasures can be found where we least expect them–even in a prison?
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Read about God’s amazing love in the Book of John from the Bible.
Read our true prison love story written in chapters like a fantasy novel.
Cover of “Selah and the Prisoner” (from one of Jose’s Cards)
Psalm 121 sings, “I will lift up my eyes to the hills–from where comes my help? My help comes from the LORD, who made heaven and earth.”
Sometimes, when life in the Valley of Death gets especially hard, we need to look up to the hills (or mountains), walk among the trees, feel the cool air of a higher elevation, and pray. A week after my birthday (which was on Easter this year), after visiting my beloved Jose in prison, I was invited to go with my local church woman’s group to the mountains where I used to live.
After a five and a half hour’s journey in the noisy church van, we arrived at night, in the rain. I forgot my waterproof hat, so my long hair was dripping. Snow sprinkled the mountain tops by what I call Selah’s Falls, a place where I used to walk with my daughter, a place I wrote into my “Selah of the Summit” book. We had seen the Summit in all seasons, and this spring it felt especially cold. I couldn’t wait to get to my room and bed. First we checked in and hauled our luggage to our rooms. Then we found the Dining Hall and ate the best home-made pineapple pizza with a salad bar. Then came a long session of singing and teaching, so I didn’t get into my bed until late. Still a little cold, I tried to snuggle in the thin blanket with my jacket on top. How ironic that this retreat was where once was my home! I had just spent weeks driving from my Central California orchard room to Los Angeles, trying to help my daughter find a better life, a better home. We used to live together on this mountain’s top, in a three-story mansion with wood decks and big fireplaces, among the forest, near a lake. I taught her to drive on the road to Selah’s Falls.
How can life make such strange circles? Jesus, I prayed, free Jose from prison, so we may see the mountains together soon. It’s not where we are that’s important, anyway. It’s who we’re with . . . it’s knowing You . . . how I want to be with this amazing man . . . How I miss my daughter . . .
And, so praying, I finally fell asleep only to be awakened at 6:00 a.m. for breakfast and a long day of planned sessions of singing, Bible Study, interactive games, an inspiring speaker’s helpful hints, and prayer. In between sessions I walked up and down the very vertical landscape of Selah’s Falls, until I was so tired I could not climb the stairs to my far-off room.
Change is never easy. Nothing valuable in life is easy. We don’t have to face it all alone. Psalm 121 continues:
“The LORD is your keeper; the LORD is your shade at your right hand. The sun shall not strike you by day, nor the moon by night. The LORD shall preserve you from all evil; He shall preserve your soul. The LORD shall preserve your going out and your coming in from this time forth, and even forever.”
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It looks like I will finally officially marry my fiancé Jose inside a prison after years of delays. How many people want to go into a prison? Ours is scheduled for early morning on Sunday, June 5, 2022 (less than 2 weeks from now). We will have a short ceremony in a Visitation Room full of strangers. We can’t kiss or hold hands or eat cake. We must wear masks and sit opposite each other at a table. If I touch my foot to his under that table, the guard will tell me to move it. We get no private time together and must wait at least 2 months for 3 nights of “Family Time,” after yet more paperwork.
California Governor Gavin Newsom prevented our marriage in a private prison 2.5 years ago. We had completed the paperwork and were ready to schedule our ceremony when Newsom outlawed private prisons. He moved Jose from a dormitory situation with many programs and yard time to old Corcoran State Prison where Charles Manson lived and died. Jose was shut into a small cell with little time in the yard or Day Room. Then Covid struck, and everything was locked down for 2 years. Imagine being under prison lockdown during Covid! I couldn’t visit him freely for hours as I had done in the private prison, where we hugged and held hands, walking together alone in the prison courtyard on hot days, cold days, rainy days–as most other prisoners and their visitors stayed inside the crowded Visitation Room.
In Corcoran during Covid, sometimes Jose couldn’t even make his one daily call to me–for weeks . . . Jose accepts his punishment. I think things could be better. Jose was very young when he was given a too-long sentence (and he’s not in for rape or murder). For 3.5 years I have been trying to contact Governor Newsom who has ignored me. I have mailed cards and letters, sent emails and submit forms, filled out official paperwork, and made many calls. I think Newsom doesn’t care about the California people. He never even bothered to acknowledge me or say, “No! Go away, annoying woman!”
Please help us by calling Governor Newsom at: 1-916-445-2841. Or try writing him through his website.
Thank you. People can have Second Chances, especially if they let Jesus change their heart . . . and listen to God speak to them in prison.
Read our true prison love story (written like a fantasy) on Amazon’s new Kindle Vella chapter by chapter series: “Selah and the Prisoner.”
Hi, everyone. Sorry I haven’t written in awhile. I’ve been living in the middle of nowhere, in Central California among the almond orchards, near my husband’s prison so that (when California finally admits it has been 2 years since Covid hit and we’ve all had it and built up immunity) I may visit him. I got a part-time job at California Aeronautical University, teaching student pilots how to write essays, so they can get their B.S. degree as well as their pilot license. Then I got laid-off because there were not enough English classes for me to teach. I’ve been doing a lot of videos for my YouTube Channel, mainly asking Governor Newsom to free my husband Jose from prison. It’s going on 4 years now that I’ve been asking him in letters, calls, emails, submit forms, and official paperwork. Newsom has never once even acknowledged me.
This is my most recent video mentioning Newsom and my incarcerated husband as spring blooms early:
This is the video I did today as I read news about Putin invading Ukraine. I taught English in Russia and visited Ukraine, so please watch:
I got to visit my daughter Jessica recently. I’ve been prepping for the dark things coming, using my “Survival Woman” skills. I am almost finished writing the amazing true love story of Jose and me, and how we met while I was teaching English in his prison. You can read it in chapters (the new Kindle Vella format) on Amazon, here. In fact, you can see all 8 of my books on my Amazon Author Page. Please share!
I love Jose even more and miss him so much. He loves me more too. Ironic that the world falls toward war as Jose is still in prison. Ironic that I lived and taught in Russia.
I love this illustration Jose drew on a handmade card he sent me with so much love. I used it as the cover for “Selah and the Prisoner.“
My true prison love story, which I have written like a modern fantasy novel, is now available to read in episodes on Kindle Vella. Charles Dickens and other British writers from the Nineteenth Century (and before) discovered that people enjoyed reading exciting stories in episodes (or chapters), published one at a time. That’s where the term “cliffhanger” originated, for readers were often left wondering what would happen to the hero as he (or she) hung from a cliff by mere fingernails. To find out how the story continued, fans would need to buy a new issue of the newspaper or magazine in which the story’s episodes appeared.
You can now read the first 15 episodes of “Selah and the Prisoner,” which is my 8th book published on Amazon. I consider it my masterpiece because it’s true. It’s full of light in a dark place, unexpected love, poetry, dreams, adventures, and the harsh reality of a woman outside prison walls who loves a man held behind prisoner behind them. Barbed wire, bars, and guards can’t keep out love.
Read the first episode of “Selah and the Prisoner” here.
Just outside the door of my house in a cute Central California neighborhood, fireworks color the night to celebrate freedom in America. Let’s all remember that freedom comes at a price. 245 years ago, we declared independence from England and its unjust laws and king. Since then, many have laid down their lives to keep us free. Let’s say NO to censorship and career politicians–and to anyone who would force Communism on us. I have lived and worked in Communist countries. Communism has killed millions of people. To “AOC,” Ilhan Omar, and “The Squad,” I say, if you don’t like the “Star Spangled Banner” or our red, white, and blue flag, just go. Live in another country, please! I taught English for 5 years in Russia, Turkey, and China, and then I appreciated America more. Facebook and our political leaders should not censor us. Race should not cause fights because none of us chose what color (or lack of color) we were born. Unproven “emergency” vaccines must not be forced on our bodies. We must uphold Hippa laws to protect our medical privacy. In 2020 our freedoms were ripped from us by forced quarantines for a virus with a less than 1% death rate–by elite politicians like California Governor Newsom. Now our economy faces horrible inflation, and many small businesses are gone forever. Freedom of speech (or anything) is only free if it is for EVERYONE! Let’s all stand us and save America from those who would destroy us. Take back California and our country. America , love it or leave it. We, the people, must govern. God bless us, every one!
A long time ago in San Diego, California, I was a Navy pilot’s wife and mother to 2 little children who have forgotten me. Since Independence Day is tomorrow, I wish they would remember that they have a mom who misses them.
I watched their dad Jeff Smith endure Officer Training School at NAS (Naval Air Station) Pensacola, Florida. I helped him study for basic Flight School at NAS Milton, Florida. I helped him get through Jet Training at NAS Beeville, Texas (the hottest place I’ve ever lived). He even let me operate the multimillion-dollar jet simulator set on hydraulics so that you felt you really were in a cockpit. I toured and flew in many types of airplanes, especially the one-engine ones Jeff piloted for fun (and their simulators). I dressed Kristen and Ryan in cute little matching sailor suits. I took care of them alone while their father was deployed for 8 months at a time on the USS Enterprise aircraft carrier, which we toured at Naval Station San Diego while we lived in Officer’s Housing on NAS North Island, Coronado Island. I held their hands and walked across the sandy runway to the Officer’s Club and swimming pool, where I taught them both to swim. We walked to the beach not far from there and had picnics in the sand, the sweet salt air cooling our faces. We explored the famous old Del Coronado Hotel with its dance floors and inside swimming pool. I learned to sail a boat big enough to sleep our family in its cabin, piloting past The Point and to the open sea, using a compass and map for Coastal Navigation.
I took Jessica to meet her dad at the Philippines and Hong Kong when she was just five years old. I took Kristen and Ryan to live for months in England while their father was deployed again. We rode a C-130 military transport plane with their dad to Germany and a huge C-3 transport jet all the way back to America. We sailed on the flight deck of the USS Enterprise under the Golden Gate Bridge of San Francisco and out to sea. We stood on that flight deck and watched a Navy jet land and catch the metal wire with its tail hook not far from where we stood. We ate at the Officers Mess and saw the glowing green mysteries of radar machines, computers, and big clear plastic war screens of the CIC (ship’s War Room). I learned to fire all kinds of guns at the Shooting Range. I stayed in the top floor of the world’s best hotels and hand-picked foreign treasures from overseas, to highlight in my china cabinet. We watched July 4th fireworks across San Diego bay, the blue bridge arcing over waves.
I tried to continue as a Navy wife, but the long separations with 2 small children were just too difficult. Jeff Smith was an honorable but quiet man, not my Soulmate. After 12 years our marriage ended. Since I was more at fault, I got the worst part of the deal (he even got the photos). I had other failed attempts at marriage and 2 new children, whom I took with me to live in New Zealand, away from their abusive dad who took them back again. I taught for 5 years alone in Russia, Turkey, and China, then returned to struggle, alone again, in expensive California. During my 9 months teaching in a desert prison, I finally found my Soulmate, and that is my happier story even though Jose is still in prison. I love the man he is, not his job, income, or possessions. True love doesn’t fail. I should have known that long ago. Maybe Kristen and Ryan would still be speaking to me if I hadn’t “abandoned ship.” But there was so much they didn’t know. We see so little of other people’s lives, not like God who can see all. Therefore, I think, as Jesus said, we have no right to judge each other. Though I have not seen Kristen or Ryan for 7 years, I hope they will remember that they had a Military Mom, and she is still alive and wishes them a Happy Independence Day!
Kristen and Ryan at Fountain’s Abbey, Yorkshire, England
On the grounds of Fountains Abbey
Kristen with her younger half-sister Jessica (a few years ago)
Jessica with her older half-brother Ryan (a few years ago)
“We are Spiritual Soldiers in Christ even when we’re Weary”
Sometimes I think that I was born with PTSD (Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder). So many crazy, stressful things have happened to me in my life that I’ve had to write them into several books. Then I think that everyone who survived 2020 must have PTSD. It was a terrible year for all of us, what with Covid-19, forced quarantines, face masks, strangely empty health clinics, the push for untested vaccines . . . and the list could continue. I had 2 total knee replacement surgeries in 2020 and was forced to move twice–all while struggling alone in expensive California while my husband was in prison.
PTSD hits a person AFTER a traumatic event. When you’re going through something difficult, you must focus on surviving it. You don’t have time to pause and think about it all. But when it’s over, you have a lot more time, especially if your schedule is wide open.
I had no family to support me in 2020 except sometimes my daughter Jessica who lives near Los Angeles, a three-hour drive away from where I live in the tree orchards of Central California. I had to stay in an expensive motel to see her. Nothing was easy.
I needed to finish writing my true love story, written as a fantasy novel with changed names. “Selah and the Prisoner” still waits for its ending, but I’m getting closer. Slowly. I often think I push myself too hard. But we’re in a battle, and we can’t get complacent, for our enemy is always attacking. Though Jesus has won the victory, Satan still wages battles, more and more because he knows his time is short . . . and so the Bible warns us to stand strong against the devil, putting on the spiritual armor of God.
It’s funny how a person’s face can change depending on how tired she is. I’m sharing the next few photos to illustrate this. Here I am looking happy with my daughter Jessica near Los Angeles, posing in my motel room recently as we wore the 2 perfect leather jackets we found for a great price at a Thrift Store.
We are both showing the “live long and prosper” sign of Spock the Vulcan from the original “Star Trek” shows we love. Spock was a warrior in the future, on a space ship. I hope to write “Selah 3” as a sci fi book where Selah is a Star Ship Captain.
Here I am holding up a photo of my husband Jose and me, taken when I could actually visit him in prison in 2019. It has been 14 months since we’ve seen each other . . .
I look a little annoyed and tired in this photo. You can see that I miss him, though I am clothed with my new star scarf, and I wear my hopeful cross pendant with its rainbow gems and silver. I posed like this for a video I made for my YouTube Channel:
I’ve made a lot of videos in the past few months. I’ve had the time.
In this photo, I look really run-down, exhausted, and in need of a nurse or doctor. I made this photo for my controversial video called “Is it WOKE, or Is it BROKE?” that was censored by YouTube. They warned me that if I posted another one like it, I could lose my channel.
Here’s the whole video for you to watch if you like, but I warn you that you may find the topic difficult to deal with:
It’s been over a year since I saw my husband Jose, since we touched hands, hugged, kissed, and walked around a private prison’s empty courtyard for hours on Visitation Day. Just before the Coronavirus struck the whole world hard, Jose was moved to Corcoran State Prison, not far from where I rent a lovely little, lonely place and wait for him. He can usually call me once a day–if the phones are working–if the prison isn’t in Lockdown or Forced Quarantine. We write letters to each other at least once a week. We think about the missing half of us when we’re not together, through all the slow, boring, separate hours. Long days become longer nights, and we’re tired of written words and spoken words and distances. We need to speak Body Language again, when words aren’t needed. We need to face the Terrifying Global Pandemic Future side by side, not separated by just an hour’s drive, a few miles, and metal fences with barbed and razored wire. I keep asking California Governor Gavin Newsom to free Jose (for over 2 years now), but he doesn’t answer me. I’m not important enough to meet him in a fancy restaurant, maskless, laughing, not social distancing . . . It’s obvious Governor Gavin doesn’t worry much about the nobodies who make up our Golden State. Maybe we will Recall him. Maybe he will learn the power of Resurrection. Maybe he will finally care and lead us by example–as an elected official should (he’s not a king). How strange to hold such power over lives, that one signature on paper can release a prisoner from behind the bars he’s served too long–and reunite him with his family.
I keep making videos to Governor Gavin, asking him to release Jose. I keep walking alone in beautiful places like the almond orchards all around me here in Central California. Their spring blossoms drop like snow, and I want to walk there with Jose.
Today I’m tired. I realize–again–that Only the Brave can love. Love means sacrifice, a death to self, a gift bestowed with our own hands–to another human. Easter passed just yesterday–another holiday apart from my Jose–but I take hope in the Greatest Love, the Sacrifice God gave for All, the Unexpected Resurrection. Jesus, who made the universe, chose to die for our sins and sorrows. He knew that life would break as clear as dawn–quite through all World Pandemics, governors, and prison doors–into a New World where only Death will die.
Just make me strong, I pray, through another long day and longer night in my lovely, little empty room. Make him strong, too, I add. We must be strong for one other. Only the Brave can love.
If you like my Blog, please read one of my books, so Jose and I can survive in expensive California. My books don’t cost much ($10 for paperback, $2.99 for Kindle eBook versions). You can read the first 3 chapters of our true love story here on my Blog for free, or just scroll down, or read the published version of our story.
Lonna Lisa Williams 