They've been visiting at the prison for over thirty years.

Standing in front of the coin operated snack machine looking over a rather dismal choice of nukable (microwave) meals, another inmate's father said "We've been reminiscing about the thirty years we've been coming here. Back then, it wasn't air conditioned and there were big roll up doors along this wall. They had some screens up there but they didn't do much good. We spent all our time battling mosquitoes." My mind bounced between two thoughts. On the one hand, I was so thankful for the air conditioning we have in the prison visitation area (the gym) these days. On the other hand, I couldn't grasp the idea that they had been coming to visit their son in prison every other Sunday for over 30 years.

That's over eight hundred Sundays. Added together, their visits equal over two years worth of Sundays.

This inmate and his folks have become friends of ours. I confess that of all the folks at visitation, this family is more like ours than the rest. Looking out across the gymnasium on any given Sunday, I see a lot of different type people. Quite a few remind me of the old saying that the apple doesn't fall far from the tree. Some look like good old country folk visiting their loved one who went astray. Most look like a lot of Arkansas... poor.

Even though the inmates all wear the same white pants and the same white shirts and even though none are allowed to have beards or mustaches, this inmate somehow looks more respectable. Maybe it's his lack of tattoos and that he walks like a normal person; not strutting or shuffling. He is about my age though he has a lot more gray hair. His folks are probably the best dressed in the place. Not fancy, mind you. But sharp. They look like they shop at Dillard's more than Walmart. And he is their only child.

My brother has shared that the inmate's father retired from a high up position with the city. Not just one with workers under him but one where me might get quoted in the paper. They live in a nice part of town and even know some of our friends. They look like respectable folk.

Mother asked if our friend would ever be released. My brother replied that isn't an option. He's serving not one but two life sentences without the possibility of parole. It seems that back when he was in high school he killed his girlfriend in a rather brutal manner. Looking at him today, you'd never know it. His 30 plus years behind bars don't seem to have hardened him. He comes across as a really nice guy.

Then I think about the past three decades and all the things I've seen and experienced. A couple of failed marriages. A few dating relationships that yielded dear friends for life. Trips where I saw the Canadian Rockies and the Normandy coast of France and pretty much everything in between. I've dipped my toes in the sand of the Gulf of Mexico more times than I can remember. Meanwhile, this guy has worn the same white pants and the same white shirts for over ten thousand days.

He has seen other inmates come and go. He and a few others are there to stay. Today, he has spent well over half of his life in prison. In a couple of years, he will have spent two thirds of his entire life behind bars. I find that hard to grasp.

Meanwhile, he smiles and goes back to visiting with his folks. And we go back to our group of chairs in the air conditioned gymnasium to visit with my brother. But I can't get him out of my mind. Thirty-plus years.

Just then I'm remind of Jesus' words from Matthew 25: “Then the King will say to those on His right, ‘Come, you who are blessed of My Father, inherit the kingdom prepared for you from the foundation of the world. For I was hungry, and you gave Me something to eat; I was thirsty, and you gave Me something to drink; I was a stranger, and you invited Me in; naked, and you clothed Me; I was sick, and you visited Me; I was in prison, and you came to Me.’ Then the righteous will answer Him, ‘Lord, when did we see You hungry, and feed You, or thirsty, and give You something to drink? And when did we see You a stranger, and invite You in, or naked, and clothe You? When did we see You sick, or in prison, and come to You?’ The King will answer and say to them, ‘Truly I say to you, to the extent that you did it to one of these brothers of Mine, even the least of them, you did it to Me.’

Years before my brother became an inmate, it hit me that Jesus didn't mention guilt or innocence in this verse. He didn't specify visiting only Christians thrown in jail for the sake of God's Kingdom like Paul and the guys were in the years to come. No. Jesus calls us to compassion, even for the guilty ones.

It paints for me a picture we are to love people right where they are. To remind them that they are not forgotten. Society may have put them in a warehouse and lost the key but they are still people with feelings. And they still matter. Jesus died for them, too.

Driving home, Mother and I talked about how my brother will be out in about two and a half years. We discussed where he might end up living, knowing he doesn't need to move back to El Dorado for fear of getting dragged back into the same crowd of drug users. Meanwhile, that other inmate will be marking off another year in prison. Then another. Then another. I may just keep on going to inmate visitation after my brother is gone.