A short tale from inside a youth prison:
About Rayann...

The first look was skeptical, most in here are.
She sat a bit interested, working me over in her mind by the looks of it.
I shared…she stared.

She was only a day over 7 it seemed, but more likely 15, I think.
A little girl in a big world gone real bad.

I talked about stone hearts being turned to flesh again.
She seemed like something in her remembered hope but had forgotten what it felt like. I thought I heard a small voice from the grave that she was buried within.

I wandered gently towards her table after the message and prayer, testing the waters, looking for that look, the look that says talk to me, please.

She looked skittish, like a frightened cat, tough on the outside but really wanting to purr if you are patient and cautious enough.

I sat down at a table of girls, an awkward thing for a 33 year old, 240 pound, shaved headed man to do without feeling like an offender myself. The look in their eyes seemed to confirm my own apprehensions…icy, distant, leaning away like someone who is afraid of you possibly hitting them. I was nervous she would run.

We talked, well, she talked, I listened…

Drug user, repeat offender, alcoholic mother, calls older sister Mom, younger sister is four and pleaded with her to stop using, she wants to go home, not sure if dad is really dad but whatever the case he isn't around either. No Daddy, no Mommy…misses home, even though home isn't healthy. Wants to stop using but history yells louder than hope most the times.

She shared and cried.
Little tears, like the ones little girls cry when there is no one to hold them and they are afraid.

I reached out to touch her little hand, praying that the hug I wanted to give so badly but couldn't, would reach her aching heart.

She thanked me for coming and listening to her…
I'm thanking her for taking out my stone heart and giving it flesh again.

Pray for Rayann, she wants to be good, like she was before life raped her innocence and stole hope from her eyes.
She told me jail isn't "a place of healing," oh, how wrong she was.
Anytime love turns hearts to flesh is a moment of healing.
I was healed by reaching out to the ones Jesus asks me to visit.

Jesus healed me through a little girl's tears last night…
I pray a little girl will be healed by mine this morning…