A month and a half ago, one of our volunteer coordinators received a letter from Cecilia (not her real name), who is incarcerated at Fraser Valley Institution for Women (FVI).
Cecilia describes how pandemic-related closures impacted her and other women at FVI, including her friend Lydia (also not her real name). Yet amid the suspended programs, cancelled classes, and reshuffled living arrangements, Cecilia and Lydia found a new opportunity, one that could benefit them in the future.
In the letter, which has been edited for length and included below, Cecilia also writes about her mentor, Heidi, who kindly shared a video with us describing what it’s like to volunteer with M2/W2 and the unexpected blessings of meeting Cecilia and building a relationship with her.
This Christmas, we want to share this letter and video with you. We hope you are encouraged by Cecilia’s resiliency, and find joy in the way God has blessed Heidi through her relationship with Cecilia.
Hi Luminita!
I enjoyed our visit a few weeks ago. Thank you so much for coming to see us. I really miss my visits with Heidi. She is the best match for me, and I love that we can talk about so many things. I feel very connected to her and I can’t wait to go for coffee and see a bit of the world with her.
COVID-19 has been challenging in here, as I’m sure it has been out there. I’ve worked since I was 15 years old and coming into the system didn’t change that drive to be employed. I was working at the kennel and had found my passion in life. When the kennel shut down due to COVID, I was devastated. I cried every morning for weeks. I felt like my heart, passion, and purpose had been ripped away. I felt useless and some days l didn’t want to be anywhere, anymore. My friends were starting to worry about me.
The last day at the kennel was sad. I remember looking out into the front yard and watching the last two dogs play. My friend Lydia was looking through an old magazine she had dug up from the bowels of the kennel. She showed me an ad for a dog training correspondence school. Lydia looked at me and asked, “Should I rip this out? It sounds cool.”
I lifted my head from my crossed arms, looked at her with squinty, sun-filled eyes, and said, “Meh. Whatever.” I went back to watching the last dogs frolic together.
One week later, Lydia and I, and our six other housemates, were moved out of our program building into another house. We had an hour to pack and move. They were going to use our building for quarantine.
When we arrived at our house, we were disgruntled, sweating, and not yet able to process the move. We sat down together, itemized the house rules, volunteered for house chores, and went off to unpack. That’s when the real crying started for me. I felt discarded. The amazing program I had been taking, Dialectical Behaviour Therapy, wasn’t running. My passion, the kennel, had closed. And the English literature course from Capilano University I signed up for wasn’t allowed to enter the prison.
A few days after we moved, Lydia, who was in the room next to me, sang out: “I found that ad for the dog training course.” If you know Lydia, you know about her singing as a form of communication. I love it.
I answered operatically, “The ad you found in the magazine at the kennel?”
She answered in song, “Yes. Should I have my mom check it out? I wonder if it’s still running?”
“Sure! Let’s do it,” I replied. I didn’t have a lot of faith that the school would be open. I mean, the ad was from 2003. So back to unpacking and organizing I went.
Lydia’s mom was on it. Later that day we found out that the school was still in operation. It was a highly accredited facility. Wow. The owner answered Lydia’s mom right away. Awesome. After an extensive email thread, the owner relayed that she would be more than happy to send us hard-copy manuals and DVDs because we have no internet access. She said she had worked with prisoners before and, when on parole, they had been able to open successful businesses with the skills they had learned from her course.
What an amazing opportunity. We could continue our vocational training and keep engaged with our future profession while the kennel was closed due to COVID-19.
(I’m going to quit capitalizing “COVID.” I’m mad at it, and it doesn’t deserve the distinction of capitalization. So there.)
The owner said if we registered by the end of May, we’d get a 45% discount. That was happy news because we were paying out of pocket. We had to come up with the cash, as well as obtain permission from management to have the course sent into the prison.
It didn’t occur to me that management would say “No, you can’t bring in the course because you have nowhere to watch the DVDs.”
The Inmate Committee had bought each house a DVD player, so we were confused. We contributed to the Inmate Committee fund, so we had saved enough in our account for DVD players. We thought that maybe they had forgotten about the players in our units, so we told them we could watch the DVDs at our house. “No,” they answered. “The purpose of the house DVD players is to watch movies during covid, not to use them for your personal agenda.”
Blink… blink.
Lydia’s mom emailed the owner and explained that we had run in to a roadblock and had some fighting to do before we would be allowed to SOMEHOW get the course in here. It definitely wasn’t going to be by the end of May though. We wouldn’t stop pushing for our education, but it would take some time. The owner said don’t worry about the deadline; the price would be discounted regardless. She had worked with the system before and knew that sometimes things are delayed. I was stunned by her generosity and compassion. More tears appeared, but this time, they were tears of joy.
Now… back to the cash. I’d have to ask my mama for help. Oh man, I hate asking for help—especially money help.
It was Mother’s Day, and I called my mama to wish her an awesome day. As we talked I realized I couldn’t do it. I could not ask my mama for money, and, even if I could, Mother’s Day was not the time. I decided that I’d do the course after I’d made some money, when I got out. Then I wouldn’t have to ask anyone for funding. All of these anxious thoughts and plans were swimming through my head as I was talking to my mama.
Later in our conversation, my mama started to sound serious. She told me she wanted to talk to me about something.
This is what she said: “I was talking to your sisters and brother about my will. I told them I was going to split everything four ways. They asked, ‘What about Cecilia? You have five children, Mom.’ I told your siblings that I think you need help now. You will be getting out of prison in the not-too-distant future and will need money for a nest egg and shouldn’t have to wait until I die. I have an account set up for you, and if you need anything, you have money there to help. Just let me know. I love you and will help in any way possible.”
Oh. My. Gosh.
My chin practically hit the floor and I started crying… again… out of gratitude. Usually, I’m not a crier but I leak quite a bit these days. I guess it’s not such a bad thing to feel my emotions, eh?
I told her about the correspondence course and all the certifications that came along with it. We were so happy and grateful for the opportunity. My mama said it was an investment into my future. I love that. I love her.
A few weeks later, the money for my course arrived at the institution. Meanwhile, Lydia and I had been working our way up the administrative chain to obtain permission for the course. We ended up meeting with the warden and he granted approval.
Yyyyyyyaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaayyyyyyyy!
I JUST KNOW we were being looked after.
Amazing.
The first Friday in August, our course arrived. I was thrilled beyond words. The course is amazing and the owner and her partner have offered lifetime mentorship as well. I call her every couple of weeks for advice and instruction.
I figured out a bit later that this course was the silver lining in the covid cloud. I found an amazing opportunity to acquire skills that will help me in the future. I’m very sad and frightened about what covid is doing to our world, yet it’s also presented me with some great experiences and opportunities I wouldn’t have found before… in my busy, busy life.
Okay. I guess I’ll capitalize “COVID” again. I’m still a bit angry with it, but the feeling has softened somehow.
Anyway, I better go. I’m going to write an exam this week and I have to study. Take good care of yourself and I’m sending you an air hug, okay?
Lots of care and good vibrations,
Cecilia