A Man's Reach

This piece was first published in December 2001 in Men's Health magazine. I post it here in honor of the 8th anniversary of September 11, 2001.

Want to be useful during tough times? Focus on the job right in front of you

By Hugh O’Neill

Men’s Health, December 2001

Our country has been wounded. We’re grieving the losses from the attacks on the World Trade Center and the Pentagon, and the death of the passengers who took on a group of terrorists in midair and perished in the woods outside of Shanksville, Pennsylvania, saving other folks the bad guys sought to slaughter.

In the days right after the assault, like most Americans, we tried to salvage some lesson that might be salve for the ache. But apparently, if you spend too much time thinking about the NFC East, your brain may be overmatched in the brutal terrain of thousands immolated for no reason. We couldn't form a coherent thought, never mind rescue a sustaining fragment from the ruins.

But then, as the full extent of the tragedy became clear, a TV-screen tableau formed an image that will be worth clinging to, whatever happens in the future. Whether the dogs of war are loosed, or wisdom and love can find a way around necessity, the memory of police officers, firefighters, ironworkers, and emergency medical technicians moving methodically over the great heaps of rubble will remain an inspiration for dealing with a crisis and with plain old daily life.

With a stubborn mix of strength and care, those guys just worked. One chunk, one bucket at a time, they set about moving the mountain of I-beams and concrete and glass that had entombed their countrymen. We were struck by their plain doggedness, the relentless simplicity of lift and carry and continue. Facing an undoable task, they did what men do best -- they began. Their ambition extended only to the ends of their arms. Nothing fancy. Just men and their muscles and their wills at work. They looked about them, bent over, and bore away the nearest burden.

Here's the lesson we're determined to learn. Men are most useful when, like those rescuers, we focus on the small circle around us. We dream of big opportunities to dazzle hordes of women, to reinvent capitalism, to matter. But so many of us get lost in big plans, or trapped by vague angers and old regrets, that we forget what those rescuers knew -- that a man's job is right here, right now. The opportunities aren't out there. They're asleep upstairs, wearing Spiderman pajamas. They're at the supermarket buying stuff for dinner, and now, after the attack, a little more fearful for the people they love. Yesterday's game is in the books. The assignment, lieutenant, is to focus on the task at hand, to seize opportunities that are right in front of you-within your arms' reach.

The word "ambition" has come to mean the drive to move up in the AP rankings, to achieve wealth or standing. But in truth, a man's "ambit" is nothing more or less than the circle in which he moves, the compass of his connections. We hereby decree that "ambition" is the more modest, but more demanding, urge to enrich the circle in which you move, whether you're a Wall Street player or a firefighter from Bay Ridge who may die on his way up the stairs of an inferno.

The attack on America has, for now, done what all those sixth-grade teachers couldn't do-wiped that smirk off our faces. It's a good bet that we'll be wise guys again. But we're also hoping that the theologian Thomas Moore is right, that melancholy carves out a space in the soul where wisdom can grow. And we're determined to shrink our circle, commend our attention to that which we can control. We're going to deploy our love and energy in classrooms, on ball fields, in churches, in bars, in our offices, in the backyard, throughout the ambits of our lives.

Don't mistake us. We remain four-square behind great achievements in the common world, including the rebuilding of whatever time reveals to be right on the World Trade Center site. But a few months out from this tragedy, we find ourselves in search of a manhood a little more attentive, one that dreams of stewardship, not empire. In all the great men we've known-fathers, teachers, brothers, pals-their strength came from a sense of duty. Left foot. Right foot. We're at war, all right. And terrorism is just one of our enemies. The other is carelessness. To honor the memory of the folks who died, and the service of those who dug, we're going to try our best to make ourselves useful.

Swole Update and more from inside Culpeper!

It's been too long since I've been to the Culpeper Juvenile Correctional Center. I say that with an absolutely straight face because anyone who knows me knows I love working with incarcerated kids and trying to show a little of God's love in a pretty bleak and hopeless place.

Well for the past couple of months I've found a number of reasons to skip our monthly reunion with the kids there from Epiphany. But last night I finally made the effort and wow, am I ever glad I did.

See this has been the week from hell at work. Lots of politics. Lots of meetings to negotiate lots of things. Lots of budget issues at the end of the fiscal year. Etc. Etc. Etc. I am still wiped out from it. I called home on the way to prison last evening and ranted for nearly an hour at Meredith who patiently listened. But I still wasn't a happy camper on the way to prison. I guess most people aren't happy campers on the way to prison, but for obviously different reasons.

So I'm grumpy and just feeling ill-at-ease and we (Chuck and Sue and myself) kind of rushed in because our young men were being led into a large, sterile room from another door. In green shirts and orange shirts and ill-fitting khaki pants (the shirts signify which pod you're assigned to and the assignments have to do with the types of crimes you've committed), the young guys sauntered in (because sauntering is about as fast as any of them move). But once they saw us, they noticeably brightened to see their old friends. And my face couldn't help but brighten in return. Then the hugs started. Oh the hugs. Hugs are amazing. My young friend R. (I only use initials on here when talking about kids so I don't run afoul of any privacy issues) came up from behind me and gave me a giant bear hug (strong kid, too!) and I could feel his affection for me. It's my affection for him that led me to sit for 8 hours a few months ago in Fairfax County Circuit Court for a hearing on whether R would get to go home or would spend another year locked up (the judge was sympathetic and said he'd made incredible strides, but probably needed a little longer inside before he was ready to re-join society -- he was understandably disappointed then, but as of yesterday, he's looking forward to a new hearing in December and is still trying to stay out of trouble and go home. He has a new nephew, by the way, whom he wants desperately to meet.)

So my mood is better, my load is lightening and I'm seeing God for the first time today and then I'm bowled over by what happens next -- in so many ways. Chuck and I were seated with T. and W. T is Mr. Slick. I'd spent a little time with him over the weekend, but didn't know him particularly well. Good looking kid. Very suave. His thick "street" accent and mannerisms are balanced by the fact that he grew up near Bealeton, VA -- a decidedly rural community where there are few paved roads and even fewer "streets". Someday I want to call him out on that. W is a relatively shy and quiet young man who bears a strong resemblance to a polar bear. Very warm and friendly, but shy.

So T and W are talking between themselves about another church service they'd had at the facility recently when a number of young ex-convicts came in and talked to them about the changes they'd made in their lives after deciding to follow God's will instead of their own. T. was obviously struck by them which made me very glad. He was almost apologetic then, however, when he said he enjoyed it when we came and was glad we did, but these other young men were more relatable. I wasn't jealous at all that he found them better able to communicate God's word. Actually, I'm delighted he's listening to somebody, anybody.

I was told once that in God's kingdom, we're not expected to be the soup-to-nuts authority on bringing people into the fold. "Some people plant the seed. Some people pull the weeds. Some people water the flowers. But God is there to make sure it grows. Let God be God. Do your little part, then let God be God," I was told. I've taken that to heart. It was great advice then, it's great wisdom now. God also took those young ministers in to reach out and they watered the seeds we planted (or whatever). All God's children have a place in the choir.

Some other notes which are less heaven-oriented and more practical:

Don't bring apples or pears to prison. The kids won't eat them and we'd be wasting our money T and W confirmed for us. They love fresh fruit. They get plenty of chips and cookies and candy, but they love fruit. Just no apples or pears.

"Why?" you ask.

Well so did we. Turns out that if you cut or bite into the core of an apple or a pear you're harming the star-like core of the fruit. And harming the star, you're disrespecting a gang. Learn something new everyday.

Same thing with the word "crab", as in "I'm going to Red Lobster to get some crab legs," or "Boy those crab chips look good." Apparently it's an acronym for another gang phrase which I won't repeat. Again, learn something new everyday.

Finally, I promised a Swole update. If you missed earlier postings and need to learn about Swole, visit the Swole blog from February and scroll down.

So you know by now that Swole is a prison treat made from Ramen noodles, chips, Cheetos, Doritos, Hot Fries and whatever else you find lying around the prison. You combine the ingredients in a large trash bag, wet them down with hot water, then roll out onto a large table, slice it up and voila! Last night we made Swole with the guys adding sausage and chicken. (It's actually pretty good after a bowl or two of it!)

So T claims to be the conoisseur of Swole and claims to know far more about making it than anyone else. In fact, after he serves his time, he wants to open a Swole restaurant or Swole cafe or at least serve it at 7-11. So he sniffed at the Swole made by others and claimed that it was another word for crappy because he'd not made it. In fact, he was not going to assist in the prep because he didn't want to sully his name and reputation by being associated with this far inferior Swole product. That didn't stop him from consuming two bowls and going back for a third, though.

So he and W began discussing alternatives to traditional Swole including "Swole on a Bun" and "Sweet Swole" which is a smushed honey bun, covered with crushed Oreos (slightly dampened), and then topped with crumbled Snickers or Butterfingers (sounds primitive, but not disgusting).

But then W goes on to tell of one guy on his pod who takes regular Swole and then packs it onto a mushed honey bun.

To which T replies (I swear this is true): "Well that's no wonder. That guys eats Baby Powder!"

I thought Chuck and I would lose the Swole we had in our stomachs at that point (which wouldn't look appreciably different coming up from going down).

On a more serious note, please keep T in prayer. He's 21 and leaves to serve the rest of his sentence in the adult penitentiary soon. Pray that he keeps his nose clean, doesn't get caught up in the adult prison lifestyle and that he keeps his faith.

If you're interested in teaming for the Fall Epiphany Walk which will be on October 10-12, let me know, teaming starts August 22!

Be blessed!

Just one more -- I think we were as affected as our Stars -- 2-17-09

I wasn't going to add anything more to this event, because it was over. Right? Wrong!

There's no news here that the team doesn't already know. But for the outsiders reading, I wanted to let you in on some Culpeper Epiphany #11 team secrets.

This past weekend hit us -- hard.

Two years ago, when we ended our weekend, we all kind of went back to our lives and many of us, myself included, pretty well lost touch with the others.

Today (Tuesday) has been remarkably different. And what a surprise blessing today has been.

It began late last evening when Scott, our weekend Lay Director, sent out a list of all of our Stars, their given names, their nicknames and their birthdays. I must have read that list more than a dozen times, remembering every Star. Remembering their faces. Moments I'd shared with them. Maybe a tattoo they showed me, or a story they'd told. I remembered their prayers. Most of all, I remembered their smiles.

I speak on behalf of the entire team when I say: I wish we could bottle those smiles and carry them with us always.

If I'd printed off that list, I think I would have thumbed it much of the night. Slept with it under my pillow. It's certainly housed in my heart. It's the most intimate I've ever been with an Excel Spreadsheet. ;)

Today, the reactions started from the team via email. I share some thoughts because I think they're instructive. I'll try not to violate any privacies here...

(each quote is from a different team member)

"I’m going through withdrawal today. I never thought I’d say that after being in a prison all weekend! "

"I was driving down the road to my job today and burst into tears....I, as the rest of you made myself vulnerable, not just in what I shared but by truly loving these guys with all my heart."

"Every one of you and the Stars ministered to my spirit this weekend... Well let me stop writing before I start crying again."

"This weekend I opened up and was able to be more specific with parts of my testimony. It's a beginning... I'm a work in process. Thank you for your testimonies, not test-a-phonys. It beared witness with me. I felt your pain."

"He and I made a connection that was so very special and had God not intervened and lifted us both back up, the results could have been so very, very negative. Thank you God for always being there at the right time and guiding us with strength to carry through with what we think to be best for others, no matter what we're feeling."

"The Love, Prayers, and endless praise from God's young men. I believe I have a prescription that will not run out or need a refill until the fall. The bottle says no refills until seeing Epiphany 12. "

Thank you God, for allowing me to see your hope in an otherwise hopeless place. Thanks to my Brothers and Sisters in Christ who embrace our vulnerabilities and who love without judging.

Thanks to the staff at Culpeper JCC for tolerating our silliness, noisiness and mess (we almost lost one of them one day when he didn't realize how quickly we could clean up our mess and how serious we were about doing it).

Thank you for our families who stayed at home and kept the fires burning while we were gone -- especially to those who took care of our small children for three days so we could go to work.

Thank you to all those who sent in money to sponsor Stars; to those who prayed for us and the Stars (the prayer chain nearly made it around the large meeting room twice!); to those who sent food for all of us to share; to those who sent various forms of agape; to those at Liberty UMC and elsewhere who provide for all of our needs behind the scenes; to those who provided spiritual leadership before and during the weekend, to those who lead us during the teamings; to our incredible support team who kept the food and drinks and agape and games and supplies and everything else coming; and to our incredible musicians who bless us with their praise and worship music.

Thank you, most of all, to these 30 young men. For three days, they allowed us to come with a different message than they usually here. And it's not one they can grasp easily. They were ever-polite, helpful, kind, vulnerable, provocative, thoughtful and thought-filled, searching, listening, absorbing, enjoying, enjoyable, funny, sad, and most of all, God's children in need of a loving word or kind touch.

We call them Stars because in Philipians 2, Paul calls all of us to be lights in the darkness. "Do everything without grumbling or arguing. Then you will be the pure and innocent children of God. You live among people who are crooked and evil, but you must not do anything that they can say is wrong. Try to shine as lights (stars) among the people of this world, as you hold firmly to the message that gives life. "

"P.S. I've changed."

We cried today.

We cried as we let go of the 30 young men we'd grown to love dearly over the past three days.

We cried with them.

We cried without them.

We wept for them.

We wept for each other.

Sending these kids we grew to love dearly over the past three days back to prison was difficult even for the most seasoned veteran prison ministers. But it's part of the process. Most of us will return to work and our normal lives tomorrow, but all of us have changed.

We've gained new appreciation for parents -- especially fathers -- who were there for us growing up, especially since so many of these young guys lack any real relationship with their parents. We got a glimpse of what it's like growing up without role models. We learned some new dances. We learned a new game which involves running two fingers as quickly as possible across the back of another's neck in an attempt to cause a rug-burn like rash. The kid with the reddest neck is the loser. I'm not sure how they measure that, but everyone seems to know when one kid wins and another loses.

Food experimentation was a little less exotic today, but I can say I ate my first-ever Quarter Pounder with Cheese covered in hot sauce, ranch dressing and crushed Doritos. All in all, it was pretty good.

We were blessed to be invited into these kids' home (such as it is) and to invade their world with a message of hope, redemption and God's incredible love for his children -- all of them.

But today wasn't really about us. Yes there were talks and singing and some wonderful moments from the team. But the real blessings today came from the Stars themselves. And oh how they blessed us.

I'll keep this short because I'm tired, but I want to share three stories with you. There are literally dozens more. And I'm hoping Chuck and Sue or Earl and Geniece might want to share.

First story:

It's nearing the end of the day and the Stars are supposed to think about a couple of questions (similar to the Emmaus questions asked at closing). What was their relationship with God like before they came to Epiphany? What did they learn? How are they going to implement or share what they've learned (I'm paraphrasing). They were supposed to jot down some thoughts and then one person at each table would condense the thoughts and report out for their entire table. Our table couldn't initially decide who would be their spokesperson. I stepped away for a moment and when I returned, I was told that Z and O had decided to work together on developing their report and that they would deliver it together. Yesterday, they were just getting to know each other. A day before they'd never spoken.

Story 2: Remember yesterday I talked about T and his Goo Goo Dolls solo. I purposely didn't mention an accident which occured after he played a second song on a guitar borrowed from our music leader, Kaye. T put down Kaye's guitar and walked away from the band area, but as he returned to his chair, the guitar began sliding and it hit the floor with a sickening thud. All of us watched this, almost in slow motion as Kaye jumped toward the falling guitar. The fall did some minor damage to Kaye's guitar, but far more damage to T's sense of self. Wally, Kaye's husband, was standing next to me when the guitar fell and I told him that I'd pay for any damage because seeing T drop his walls for the first time (he told me later) since 2006, was worth whatever it would cost to repair the guitar. Well Kaye hugged T, told him not to worry, hugged him again and again, said she still loved him, etc. But we all worried that T wouldn't return. That just as things were looking up, an unfortunate accident would cause a terrible loss of confidence.

He returned Monday morning. And he played a song he'd written himself. It was about remembering people who were gone, but remembering them fondly. It struck me then that it had a certain foreshadowing quality to it.

During the table report-outs, T was the designated spokesman for his table. He gave the table report and then gave a personal report:

"Most of you all don't know this, but on Friday and going into Saturday, I was an avowed Satanist," he said. "Now I know how much God loves me and wants me to come back home, so I'm going to follow Him home."

T left a note on the table for us to find during clean-up. "I love you all...T..."

Last story. this one from D -- whom they also call "Baby Boy" and his face fits that nickname well. Funny and charming, I honestly saw him as a bit of a player. He was playful, the first one to get up and dance. But he was also the first one to make a trade, a bargain or a deal. He's a flirt and, from a distance, didn't seem to be getting it.

He left behind a long prayer request for us including asking for prayers for his family, his friends and a number of team members. He told us how thankful he was to God for sending us from so many places. And he told us how thankful he was for God's love being demonstrated in so many ways.

He signed his letter. Then he followed up with two words which I will never forget.

"P.S. I've changed."

So have I, D... So have I.

Breakthroughs and the Goo Goo Dolls -- Letter from Inside the Big House, 2-15-09

If you ever have any doubts that God is still alive and at work, go to prison on the second day of one of these weekends.

Yesterday, I mentioned that I was fearful that two of my "Stars" weren't getting it and wouldn't be back. Even though I'd received promises that they'd be back, I silently doubted it. And this morning I held my breath to see who would come in.

After everyone was accounted for and seated, it turned out we only lost one star -- not one of mine -- and this was due to an upset stomach (probably too much fried chicken -- or maybe he went back and made himself a swole.) Either way, it was an early blessing to have every kid who could return.

Our morning went along fairly uneventfully, but my friend Crystal ran over to me at one point and told me that O., one of the ones I was worried about, had completely opened up to her. Now it's not that I don't cherish my friendship with Crystal, nor is it that I think she's not of sound mind. But I frankly didn't believe her. An hour later, I ran over to her and asked what she'd done to my kid who was now very open and very chatty and admitted to getting choked up during my friend Reese's talk.

And he wasn't alone. You'd have to have been dead to not get choked up during Reese's talk, unless you were busy openly weeping. Reese has a remarkable presence when he's giving his testimony in front of a group. He's about my age and pastors a small Baptist church in Brandy Station, VA. He also works with at-risk kids during the day. He's very soft spoken with a deep voice. But his speaking style ties you in with the first sentence, grips you by the throat around the third sentence. And he never lets go.

We've been friends since we first teamed on Epiphany two years ago. So this wasn't the first time I'd heard his testimony, but it still moves me every time.

Well, it moved O. as well and he confided in me that he could feel Reese's pain during his talk and that almost broke him down. "But I can't go around making that kind of scene in here," he said.

That's more than he'd said in the prior 36 hours. Wow. And after that, he didn't stop and we got into a very spirited discussion about him struggling between choosing good and choosing evil in his life. He doesn't see himself as a good kid, which is troubling. He doesn't give himself enough credit. We told him the battle was not his alone, that God would provide his armor. At that point, Z piped up from across the table that O is in spiritual warfare. Z is a very good kid from what I can gather. He minds his business and is focused solely on not making things worse for himself. He's determined to get out of prison on time and won't do anything that could derail that. O knows this and while it didn't seem they know each other well or have much in common, they agreed finally that Z could work with O on some of that armor God provides. Maybe Z is O's armor. It was an incredible moment that left me absolutely breathless. It's hard to capture the magic there when O first realized that he doesn't have to be a thug all his life and that God puts people in his path to help him if he's willing to be helped.

One funny story at this point. The Stars all received boxes of those little sugary conversation hearts that come out every year at Valentine's Day and then thankfully go away for another year. But my close friends Chuck and Sue are teaming with us this weekend and Sue, for those who don't know her, is, by all measures, gorgeous. She's also a delightful person with a penchant for mischief-making. Well, all the young men have become quite fascinated with Sue this weekend and one was bold enough to ask Chuck to send her over one of those little conversation hearts with "Kiss Me" on it. Chuck said, "You know she's my wife, right?" Apparently no one did. "Nahh, you? Really? Nahhh."

Two more Epiphany moments. Another kid named T who sits at Chuck's table. Pretty reserved and quiet. Would sit back from some of the conversations. He resembles Drew Carey a little bit with very close-cropped hair and thick state-issued eyeglasses with thick brown plastic frames. To say they lack style would be an understatement.

Well out of nowhere, during a break, T picks up a guitar, steps up to a microphone the music team had been using and begins to play a Goo Goo Dolls song called "Slide" with the lyric:

What you feel is what you are
And what you are is beautiful...

His solo brought down the house. Later, he played a second song, apologizing that it was not original, "Because I was writing a lot of my own music right about the time I got arrested. And when that happened, my father threw it all out. So it's gone."

I hugged T later and told him how much he'd blessed me and all the others tonight.

Finally, you might remember A from last night. He was the one questioning God and Heaven and I really had feared he wouldn't be back. We spent more time together today, though he wasn't sitting next to me. But several talks from the team obviously smacked him between the eyes.

On the way out tonight, he hugged me. "I love you, Butch. Thanks for sticking with me."

Valentine's Day and Swole -- Report from inside the Big House 2-14-09

It's the end of our first full day inside the Culpeper Juvenile Correctional Center on Culpeper Epiphany 11. And 14 hours on the inside makes for a long day. We started at 0630 and just ended up around 2030.

God has paved us a wide path this weekend and arrival went off well with only a couple of minor issues -- we had three extra slots, one kid had already been on another Epiphany at another state facility and one kid we thought had been on a weekend actually hadn't. But issues were minor. And, as usual, as the Stars arrived and were greeted by a raucous crowd of Christians cheering for them, we got some pretty quizzical looks from most of the arriving young men. But I have to tell you that by the second song, nearly all of the Stars were singing and clapping along -- even if they didn't know the words.

And the energy hasn't waned all day. God is truly at work here.

I'll tell you very briefly about the young guys at my table and I'm only going to use first initials to keep any details about them private. Hope you understand.

A. is a tall blond guy from near Staunton. He doesn't fit in with the others because he likes country and bluegrass music and is definitely not what you would call an inner-city kid. He wants to be a "good father and a good man" when he grows up, but he's not quite sure yet how he'll get there. He asks a lot of searching questions of me. He's definitely thinking. The gears are turning. A couple of times today I was worried that he wasn't interested. He's always asking what the next event is, how long this activity is going to last, when he's going to get out. But by late afternoon, he seemed to settle in a little bit and he's letting go. I think I stunned him when I didn't automatically reject him when he told me he didn't believe in heaven. He did promise to come back tomorrow (after asking if leaving was an option). Knowing that he's coming back tomorrow will allow me to sleep tonight. Otherwise I'd worry about him.

Z. is almost 19, a high school graduate, and looking forward to college to study business administration and creative writing. He's a smart young man, very thought-filled. He's searching too, but he's not as antsy about it. He is very friendly and even chatty at times. He reminds me a lot of Chris who sat next to me all weekend on Epiphany 10 two years ago. The one thing that worries him -- he doesn't know if anyone will give him a chance at a job or a college education if he has a criminal record. I worry about that for him. He's writing a book. I'll find out tomorrow what it's about. I'll make sure I'm first in line to buy it when it's published.

C. is an interesting character. He dreams of a career in the music industry -- either in writing or production, but he also likes singing. In the middle of the day, he walked up to the microphone and with no announcement began singing a beautiful Gospel song. It was a cool moment.

L. is a character. He's the class clown of the group. Singing in funny voices and making animal sounds at inappropriate, though very funny, times. He worries me a little because he doesn't see much future for himself. He has a son who turns two on March 9.

B. He's one of the two guys at the table I don't feel a great connection with yet. Good kid. Friendly. Not very talkative. But he likes to eat. He sings along. Adds into the conversation. I'm curious to get to know him better.

O. This young man is going to be a challenge. And we're all praying for him. Please pray for him too. He's still got a lot of walls up and won't participate in much. He's polite enough, but that's as far as he's willing to go. But he promise me that he'd be back tomorrow. So I'll be able to sleep after hearing that too. I worry about him.

There are, of course, a bunch of others...30 in total. And each one is fascinating. At Chuck Russell's table, there are no fewer than three musicians. At another table, there's the kid who said goodnight to every three times so he'd get something like 90 hugs. And when the Corrections Officers told them it was time to return to their pods and that they would be searched and anything considered contraband that was found on them would end their weekend with us, there was a collective great shuffling of candy and other food items out of pockets. A was sitting next to me and downed an entire box of those little candy conversation hearts in about a minute.

Which brings me to my final missive of the evening: Swole.

At dinner, C asked if I'd ever had swole before. I don't even try to sound smart around these kids anymore. That's a losing battle and it just makes me look even more stupid and out of touch than I already look. So I told him I didn't know what that was. It's a homemade prison recipe consisting of:

3 or 4 bags of chips (Cool Ranch Doritos and Spicy Nacho Doritos apparently work best, but potato chips are fine too).
3 packages of Ramen noodles
A sliced pickle (to taste)
A couple of handfuls of Combos (those little filled pretzel snacks)
Some meat -- chicken or sausage works well
2.5 to 3 cups of very hot water.
If you have it, you can also add jalapenos, hot sauce, honey, ranch dressing, etc.

Mix all the ingredients except for the water in a plastic trash bag (clean, preferably) and then crush with a book or other heavy item. Pour hot water over mixture, a little at a time (you don't want it too wet) until it forms a paste-like concoction. Watch it rise (hence the name swole from swollen, apparently). Roll it flat on a table and then use your spork to eat it.

Apparently this is quite the delicacy. Z said he'd actually give up a trip to a Golden Corral for swole. I asked the others at the table if they felt the same way. C who originally asked me about it, thought for more than a few seconds and first answered that he's prefer swole.

"Really?"

"Well, maybe not."

The other Stars were also familiar with swole and each had their own favorite ingredient. I think I'm going to bring some to the next potluck.

Twas the Night Before Prison...

And all through the Big House...

Ok, so I'm not going to try to make this a funny version of the classic. Too tired to be that creative.

But I did want to put something here in case you are checking in on me over the weekend.

There's more than 30 of us headed inside at 0630 hours. Tonight, we met. We ate. We prayed for each other. We prayed for ourselves. And we prayed for our Stars. We also learned a lesson or two about service.

I mentioned there's more than 30 of us going in to serve. But there are many, many more people (including you hopefully) who are sharing God's love from the outside. There are folks praying. And who made agape. And enough people sent in checks and cash that God blessed us with absolutely every Star being sponsored! In the past, we've had to dig into our own pockets. This year God really wanted us to make this happen on His behalf, because He's cleared every obstacle from our path -- from providing plenty of volunteers to providing plenty of food to providing for our Stars, to ensuring that new leadership at the Culpeper Juvenile Correctional Center (who'd never seen anything like Epiphany before) would take a leap of faith in us. So God has made this path wide for us. How can we refuse.

As I mentioned, tonight we learned a little about service including a service which commemorated Christ's service to the Apostles before the Last Supper. You'd think mature people would be able to be servants to each other like that without giggling, but... ;)

But we also learned an important lesson tonight: that we don't go in to preach or convert. God will take care of that. We go to serve and show love, just as Christ did.

Pray for us....

More tomorrow night.