Emmanuel in Confinement
by Roy A. Borges

My sixteenth consecutive Christmas behind the razor-wire fences of the Florida prison was celebrated locked-up in confinement. A prison inside a prison. Where the recalcitrant are supposedly kept. In reality, it was a place anyone could find themselves if they irritated the wrong person. But God taught me to forgive and love them and to rely on His righteousness to prevail.

Because I was going to be spending Christmas in confinement, I figured nothing memorable could happen; locked-up in a cell 24 hours a day. Although you did get a five minute shower, three times a week. There really wasn’t much to look forward to this Christmas.

Even in prison, ironically, I usually had something to look forward to on Christmas. For example, mom liked to send me two or three cards and many of my Christian friends that I met since coming to prison sent me cards too. I decorated my cell with them and gave it the Christmas spirit. I was going to miss the cards. No cards in confinement for me. I lost my mail privileges too.

Wouldn’t get to watch, "A Wonderful Life," on television either. No television in confinement. I was going to miss hearing my sister Elaine’s sweet and encouraging voice on the phone wishing me a "Merry Christmas." No phone calls in confinement.

The Christmas meal, however, wasn’t so bad; one slice of canned turkey, on cup of sweet potatoes, and one spoon of cranberry jelly, a departure from the usual mundane meals. But I sure was going to miss the treats we got from the volunteers at the chapel. Especially the Cuban coffee and donuts one of the Spanish volunteers brought. No chapel services in confinement. Although the chaplain did bring us a Guideposts and an Inside Journal to read.

In a way, this Christmas was going to be like the first Christmas and just like any other night. Most people went about their lives; paying their bills, cooking dinner, getting ready to go outside. Nobody noticed anything different. Including the innkeeper who told the couple to sleep in the barn.

Oh yeah, a few shepherds working the late night shift got a spectacular celestial show by some angelic beings, saying, "Glory to God in the highest, and on earth peace and good will to men!" (Luke 2:14) The sheep probably knew something was up. Some wisemen, eastern astrologers had begun their journey to Jerusalem looking form someone called "The King of the Jews." They had studied ancient manuscripts and knew they scriptures prophesied the Messiah would be born in Bethlehem.

But for the rest of the world, it was just another day. They didn’t know that God had arrived; "and they shall call his name Emmanuel, ... God with us." (Matt. 1:23)

Christmas night in confinement alone in my cell I read in my Bible about Paul and Silas who were also in a prison inside a prison, they "were praying and singing hymns to God and the other prisoners listened." (Acts 16:25) Despite their miserable predicament, they praised God.

The lights in my cell went out and I stared at the ceiling from my bunk, wondering if I could praise God in the midst on my circumstances. I could hear a mouse nibbling on some crackers I left out for him, then suddenly, I heard a voice come out of the vent about the toilet. It was Andrew in the next cell. "Merry Christmas, Roy," he said.

"Merry Christmas Andrew," I replied.

"Do you know any Christmas songs?" Andrew asked.

"Yeah, I know a few," I said.

"I’ll sing one if you’ll sing one," he said.

"Are you kidding?"

"No, I’m serious," Andrew answered.

"Have you been reading the Bible?" I asked, incredulously.

"No, why?"

"Never mind," I said, "what song do you want to sing?"

"Joy to the World," he said, and sang every verse. I sang the chorus with him.

"Your turn," he said when we finished.

"Okay," I said and sang "Silent Night."

Then he sang, "O’ Come Holy Faithful."

Then I sang, "Feliz Navidad." I learned it in the Christmas play I wrote last year for the chapel program.

"Hey, I remember that one from the Christmas play last year. Wasn’t that the song you sang?" he asked.

"Yeah, it was," I said.

"What was the name of that play?"

"The Real Meaning of Christmas."

"That’s right, I remember now, that was one of the best plays I ever saw. A lot of the people liked it. I heard them talking about it on the compound. Boy, things sure have changed."

"You’re right Andrew," I said, "things have changed but the real meaning of Christmas hasn’t changed. It doesn’t matter where you wake up or what day it is - God has arrived. Emmanuel is with us. He is here to bless you, save you, restore you, heal you, grant you peace, and do many more wonderful things."

"I have another song," Andrew said and sang "O’ Holy Night," like he was John Starnes or some other great singer. It was completely silent in the quad as everyone listened. It was a moment I’ll never forget. I reminded me of Paul and Silas and made me realize everyday is Christmas when God has arrived. It wasn’t just another day and I wasn’t alone. Emmanuel was in confinement with me, in my cell blessing me.

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