A breadcrumb story

maybe life isn't a series of random events

I wrote a book about breadcrumbs of your life. Paying attention to your story as if your life wasn’t something that just happens to you. I explore the idea that reframing and making sense of your story is monumentally important. After all, isn’t God the great reframer: “What they chose for evil, God will turn for my good.” I do mean the awful parts of your life as much as I mean the seemingly non-important and people don’t like it when I say that because sometimes there just isn’t a silver lining. I guess? What if that’s not true? Because believing there’s a silver lining is just as powerful as believing there isn’t and one has a much more positive outcome.¹

Anyway, I wrote that book years ago (weird to say), and it wasn’t a blockbuster or anything but I’m proud of the work I was doing in my own story and the push for women to take up more space with their story. So imagine when I go to seminary camp (week long intensive) and we are taking a pastoral care class on the biblical importance, science, and psychology of attending to our stories. My meager attempt in my book was something I knew, deep down, that you can not hold space for any one else’s stories, including your spouse and children and friends and parents and neighbors, without healthily attending to your own. All sorts of damage can be done without careful attention to your past but all sorts of treasure and beauty can be unearthed by letting dry bones of our past come to life.

I have talked about growing up going to get my haircut in a maximum security prison. My dad was an employee there as “counsel” for inmates ( like an attorney who hasn’t gone to law school but has had some training). My dad did this for several years because the money was good and he was toying with the idea of becoming a real attorney.² He did not discuss his work at home around the children, though I’m sure my mother got an earful, it was just his job and getting free haircuts was a smart decision when you don’t have much money and a lot of kids. This was a tiny detail of my life that I have never paid attention to because it’s so small, and random, and funny.

When people asked what I wanted to do when seminary is over in a year, I sort of relished in saying I don’t have a clue. I didn’t, until one day praying about this question (normal thing) God was like straight to jail.

I mean the word was prison and I cried one part in relief to have direction and another part like…excuse me where did this come from? Sure, I had been recently following prison ministry accounts. Sure, I thought about people in jail kind of consistently because when I visited my sister in jail it was just sad and heavy and I thought I’ve got to get in here and do a bible study maybe? Fleeting thought, tho and I carried on. Sure, Alligator Alcatraz incensed me to my very core, They are still people! That could be my brother/sister.

I wasn’t paying attention to any of that though because I didn’t have to. Only in hindsight and with careful examination do I see breadcrumbs behind me. So when I went to teach at VBS 2 weeks ago, someone asked what I wanted to do with my degree and sheepishly I said, “Well it’s sort of a new revelation, but I think prison ministry?” His eyes lit up, “You’re kidding. We have been working to get into X prison for a year and finally are going! I’ll connect you with X”. Oh ok. That Sunday after I was leaving my Sunday school classroom, a guy ran me down in the hallway, “Hey, I heard you want to jump into prison ministry. We’re going in like 3 weeks maybe? I’ll connect you with Beth.” Sure.

Meanwhile, in this pastoral care class, we had lots of autonomy to choose topics of research for papers and projects concerning pastoral care. Of course I chose anything related to prison chaplaincy/ministry. So I was gobbling up podcasts, research studies, books, and interviews (even got to interview my dad a bit and learned a lot about his life in the prison system). I received a text from Beth, “Wanna grab coffee?” Sure, Monday is free. I arrive at the coffee shop and we don’t talk anything about prison ministry except at the end. I have noticed and FBI background check paper work on the table and she slides it to me. “Fill this out and send it to this specific email or I can.” My head says, I hate paperwork so I will avoid this. That was my full intention. But my hand filled the paper work out right then and there and Beth said, “I’ll just turn this in for you.”

Listen. 4 months ago, I didn't know what I was going to do. But all this while, from my childhood, to my tender heart for these forgotten people, to this particular class taking place this exact semester I would figure out my direction with this particular autonomy to research a particular bend of pastoral care, to landing at a church who has been working for a year to get into this prison while I had no clue how to even get into prison (sounds bad)—and I initiated nothing, just walk through door after open door, prepared way more than I should have been? Folks, that’s not coincidence that’s God.

And that’s a breadcrumb story. And it is important because looking for, analyzing, digging around, and yelling, AHA! makes you either discover your purpose in this season or a lot more confident of the direction you’re going. And not conifdent in myself, that’s a crap shoot. Confident like, look at God. So that when I am tempted to be afraid of ministering to men in a max security prison, I remember to decenter myself in this story. Fear not, for I am with you. And I think about what our professor and hospital chaplain said, “You are not bringing God anywhere. You are going into a space He is already in.”

That’s the story and I’m sticking with it.

Thanks for reading and if you want to dig around in your own story to understand your purpose moving forward, I’d love to help you. My book is on audible or sold wherever books are sold. And as always, liking or commenting or subscribing helps your favorite authors on substack.

1. yes, you can also do this unhealthily by ignoring and running out of grief and anger.

2. He said law school was a walk in the park because he could do his work without getting spit on or thrown chairs at. I asked my dad if he had thought about prison reform and he said, “I have always said that people are reformed not because of prison but despite it.” While a little depressing I think it can be hopeful too? There are many good people and ministries that are doing such good work!