Letters from Home

The first week was spent hanging over a toilet, my stomach unable to comprehend anything but my nerves creating havoc. All I could think of was Krista in jail...scared, crying, and alone. Her case was plastered on the media and she begged us not to come until it died down. She was fearful because of the circumstances of the case. Jaron went to see her and it just about did him in. They both just cried.

The media was saying that she would be in her 80's before she was released. The newspapers online had blogs that classified her as the lowest of life forms and that she must have been raised by monsters. They only had one side of the story, much of it false information. The t.v showed her for her first court appearance...she looked so fragile, so scared and the one newscast actually said there had to be more to the story - "She has the face of an angel."

Our home had people stopping by to bring food, to ask what they could do, to console, to offer any kind of help...word spread quickly in the community and I had people stop me on the street who knew Krista to tell me little stories of things she had done for them. Total strangers stopped by my house with notes to send to her. They would say..."You don't know me but your daughter once helped me". It was amazing and yet humbling at the same time to see how many lives she had touched.

Krista was arrested right before Christmas. I had written a drama entitled "Letters from Home"...it was a story of an angel who was the heavenly mail carrier...he delivered messages over the centuries of time even today. One scene was a young girl standing alone by a burning old barrel trying to keep warm. She lived on the streets, had run away from home...the angel put a letter in her backpack that her mother had written to her. A letter full of love for a daughter who had become a prodigal, who had left for a distant land, who lived in the pig pen of life, at the bottom of the well... a letter telling her no matter what that she loved her and wanted her home. As this scene played out, tears became to roll as people related this scene to Krista, you could hear little catch sobs, hear sniffles and blowing of the noses...it was sad yet so powerful...

Krista had been the prodigal, at the bottom of the well and yet God in His mercy spared her life. She knows that had she not been arrested she would have been dead. He gave her a second chance. The church used a mailbox as part of it's decorations for that program and it began to fill up with cards and letters to Krista...I put them all in a several big envelopes and sent them off. The guard came to her cell a few days later and said "I don't know where you are from but I want you to know you have good people" and he handed her the packets...she wept, letters from home.

This is a writing Krista wrote in the first few weeks of her ordeal.

Escape to Heaven
By Krista M. Harris

My mind tries to escape this reality
Which has become a constant fatality
To a place beyond these cold walls
It’s what my heart longs for and my soul calls
It pulls me to warmth, comfort and no pain.
This is not a factual place, just a brief mind frame.
Here I’m never lonely, never in any danger,
My soul rests, never conflicted with anger.
A loving touch, a warm embrace
I lie in the grass; let the sun kiss my face.
At this moment no stress nor a tear
I have no problems, no feelings of fear
Am I asleep or day dreaming?
Or is comfort what I’m feigning?
Much too happy in my ignorance to ponder this
I’m able to be uplifted, enjoying my personal bliss.
As I relax I slowly slip into a deep trance
Into a magical land where every wish it grants
I’m in heaven and it’s all through my vision
Then I stir… blink and realize….
I’m still in prison.

Copyright Mud Pie Productions 2006