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.”
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.
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.
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.
Lonna Lisa Williams 