If you read no other post, read all of this one...

All the artwork on this post was done by prisoners and/or drug addicts...

Jamie and I started a marathon of frantic texting last night as we discovered some new things.  That's all I'll say, as we are sworn to secrecy. No posts in the immediate future will hold any clues or hints as to what we're working on, even though I may post about the chase. I think you all would be amused to learn some of my early theories, which probably mirror a lot of your own.

So, today, a bit of seriousness to ponder...

Remember the police standoff that happened in our neighborhood a few weeks ago? There is a sad outcome to that event. The man in the standoff died in jail a few days after the incident. I can tell you exactly what happened. I'd be willing to bet the man had an acute medical problem that was ignored, and unrecognized, and the poor man died as a result. Yes, I admit it's not a good thing to hold the Swat team at bay with a toy guy and a BB gun for seven hours, but if it happened as a result of a bleed in the man's brain, how much blame can be ascribed to him? How come no one recognized or took any action to have the man checked out medically? It's just sad.

When my daughter was going through her rough period (drug abuse as a result of my ex molesting her when she was 11), and ended up in the Brevard County Jail, the mistreatment and conditions she described to me were appalling. She went through her own medical emergency, and was basically told that if she was so miserable, "she shouldn't have gotten herself in jail in the first place."

She was having a head to toe allergic reaction to the wool blankets they used, and the hives covered her from her scalp to the bottoms of her feet, and were beginning to form in her mouth and throat. They would not take her to the medical bay, not even for a Benedryl. She called me in tears as the other 99 hardened women there were threatening to beat her to a pulp if she didn't get out of the bay. It took me calling there with hellfire in my mouth and threatening a lawsuit to get her seen by medical personnel. I was not a happy person that day.

My daughter wants to write a book about the conditions she witnessed firsthand. The things that happen behind those walls shouldn't happen to anyone, let alone young women. Most of those girls have no family, or they have mothers and fathers that are drug addicts themselves. Many of them grew up in poverty because of their parents' wrongdoing. Many of them had been abandoned by those same parents to fend for themselves at 15 or 16 years old. Many of them had NEVER experienced the unconditional love of a parent.

And we, as a society, are so quick to judge and throw blame. We should be ashamed. Who cares about those "bad" kids? Who among us is able to see beyond the facade they've been forced to erect in self defense? Who among us can see the hurt they've endured, the rejection, the hardships, the poverty, the "whys" behind their actions?

Certainly not the court system. Yes, if you do wrong, you should have to answer for it. However, if you all only knew what goes on behind those locked doors, you would know a whole new side of the story.

Every child should know the warmth, strength, stability, and love of a mother. Many of those young women turn to drugs as a substitute for the feelings of love they've never before experienced. Many of them are "good" kids. Many of them have always wanted to be "good" kids. Many of them, when they were little, wanted to grow up to be nurses, and doctors and veterinarians.

But not everyone comes home from school to cookies on the table and a hug from Mom. Many of those kids instead come home to no one, or a mom drunk and stoned and passed out on the couch, or worse...a father who beats or molests them. Or possibly a mom who is forced to work two or three jobs just to keep a roof over their heads and is so tired and worn down that she has no energy left to be a positive influence.

And yes, some of those kids are "normal" middle class kids, rich kids, any kid, who has loving parents yet still somehow, through a mistake or bad decision, become hooked on a drug or combination of drugs so addicting, they will risk their lives and do anything to get the next pill.

My heart breaks for all of those kids, but especially for the ones who have never known genuine love. I take every opportunity to talk to my daughter's "old" friends, and although I can't replace their own parents, at least I can try and be a positive influence in theirs.

One thing me and my kids do every Christmas is to buy presents for kids of parents who are in prison. We select a few families, go out and buy the toys, wrap them as fancily as we can, then go to their homes to visit with them and give them their gifts.

If you haven't done this, try it. I guarantee you will see how "bad" kids start out--full of hope, love, smiles and hugs for anyone who'll let them climb in their lap. I can tell you with 100% certainty, the gifts took a distant second place to the hugs and touch and attention we brought.

And when they clutch  your hands with such ferocity and beg you not to leave, it will not only bring tears to your eyes, but it will make you want to scoop them up, take them home with you, and protect them forever.

It makes me ashamed of myself that we only do this kind of thing at Christmas. We should do it all year. Maybe I will find a way to make that happen. I believe it needs to happen.

You want to see the drug problem among our youth go away?

Love them...

I'm going to leave you with a poem my daughter wrote me from jail, about half way through her stay there. I'm also proud and blessed beyond belief that she has now been clean for two years.

And I want to stress something to the parents who love their children beyond belief and are dealing with an addicted child. To those parents I say, "NEVER, EVER, NEVER, give up on your child, NO MATTER WHAT. Cling to hope, because it is NEVER to late to save your child."

Since she wrote this poem, A is happy, has a full time job, and a boyfriend who adores her and treats her like a princess. She's looking at returning to college. She's beautiful, and amazing, an overcomer, a survivor, a warrior, a treasure...

I'm sorry for all the nights I made it hard for you to breathe
I remember what it was like to have my daddy leave
I can't imagine how hard it was to watch me go
Praying but not knowing if I'd ever come home
I'm sure your nights were too silent
While I was gone

This bull is too violent
That I'm riding on
I can't escape the panic
The pain is piling on
Sometimes it's too hard to keep my smile on

And I'm sorry Momma for all the times I broke your heart
When God left my life I know yours fell apart.
I used to tell you how He moved the clouds to see me
Turned your world upside down when I stopped believing
You said I've always been strong, now you're scared of my fragility
You must think that surviving day to day is outside my ability
I can't deny that drugs are f***ing killing me
You said my death is a probability
But I'm your treasure chest

And you never stopped praying
Momma knows what's best
I shoulda heard what you were sayin
I shoulda never left
Cause you never did
I wish that I could do it again
But God's a God of second chances
And my momma never stopped holding my hand
Never want to let go again
I'm sorry, Momma, you're my best friend
I'm sure your nights were too silent
While I was gone

This bull is to violent
That I'm riding on
I can't escape the pain, the rain is piling on
Sometimes it's too hard to keep my smile on
I'm sorry, Momma, for all the pain I've caused
Please forgive me Momma, you're all I've got
And I swear that God made me different
I've grown up a lot and I've learned my lesson
I took it all for granted, you and my siblings
But coming to jail taught me to count my blessings
And I'll never let you have another silent night
Jesus gave me a brand new life
I've escaped the pain, I aim' t got to fight
And Momma, you are my only sunshine.