Everyone says that when you’re in prison, Christmas is the most painful day, but for me, it was Mother’s Day.
My girls were 14, 16, and 20 when I was incarcerated for fraud.
I had never imagined serving time. I grew up in a loving, church-going family. I was a devoted wife and mother, and when my dad passed away, I worked hard to run the home improvement business he had built.
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But the truth was, there was a lot I didn’t know—and I was too proud to ask for help. I didn’t realize deposits had to be held in escrow. When a handful of customers wanted out of their contracts, I couldn’t refund them—and life as I knew it came crashing down.
During my seven years in prison, I lost everything: my home, my business, my savings. Not only that, but both my husband and my mom passed away while I was there.
However, the most heart-wrenching part of it was being separated from my girls.
I started following Jesus in earnest behind bars. My walk with Him — and the thriving ministry I had with the women around me — gave me a sense of purpose and hope. But it devastated me that my two younger daughters were navigating their teen years without their mom.
When the prison chaplain told me about Prison Fellowship Angel Tree, my response was “no thanks.” I thought it was a toy drive. My girls didn’t need charity, and I didn’t want strangers talking to my children.
But the chaplain persisted. She helped me realize that Angel Tree wasn’t just about a Christmas gift — it was a chance for a trustworthy local church to walk alongside my family in my absence.
I was a different person from the woman who had tried to lead a failing business single-handedly — this time, I knew I needed help.
Okay, Lord, I prayed. This sounds like a great way to work as a team and make sure my daughters are okay.
I found out the name of the church that would be delivering gifts in my name. I wrote a letter to the youth pastor, introducing myself. I told him that I wanted him to know about my children and how to care for them well.
Chelsea expresses her emotions through music, I told him. And Shelby uses humor. So, pay attention to the kind of songs Chelsea plays. Listen to the way Shelby jokes. That will help you know how they really are.
The pastor was grateful for my letter and eager to keep in touch. He told me he wanted to be there for my girls.
For many years, that church walked beside my daughters. Church members included them during holidays. They made sure they could attend vacation Bible school and church camps. They helped Shelby learn to drive.
When Chelsea was entering her first serious relationship, the pastor talked with the young man in my place. I told the pastor what I wanted him to convey about how special Chelsea is and what it means to be worthy of her — and the pastor did. It was the next best thing to being there.
We think of mothering our children as something only we can do — and in one sense, we’re right. No one can or should replace a mother in the life of her child. I love that Angel Tree allows incarcerated parents to write a special message to each child, because kids know their parent’s voice, and they need to hear it — even if only in writing.
But at the same time, families need community. Whether we’re incarcerated or not, we weren’t meant to mother alone. I’m so grateful for the church that co-parented with me while I was behind bars; my daughters benefited in many ways from our collaborative efforts. They felt loved and cared for. They got to see Jesus in action. They had the sense that everything was going to be okay.
I was released from prison more than 13 years ago, on my mother’s birthday. I love the thought that God gave my mom a birthday gift in Heaven.
My girls are in their 30’s now, and they still have all the books I sent them through Prison Fellowship Angel Tree. I asked them recently why they’ve kept them all these years.
Shelby explained, “Mom, when it hurt the most, it was a reminder that Jesus was there.”
It’s still hard to hear how much they suffered. But the grief is far outweighed by gratitude for a church that cared — and for the Savior who sustained us all.
Vanessa Franklin serves as the director of prison ministry events for Prison Fellowship.
