I Was in Prison and You Visited Me!

Meet Debbie Fawcett, an ordained minister with the PAOC. She has ministered as a pastor, served as a representative on the Women in Ministry Team of the ABNWT District, and as a member of the (DLT) District Leadership Team. For the past 12 years, she has served as a Women’s Reintegration Chaplain working, for the most part, under the covering of the Mustard Seed Organization in Edmonton. I recently sat down with Debbie to chat with her about her unique and special ministry. I know you will be moved by this interview.

AL: Tell me a little bit about the ‘nuts and bolts’ of what you do in your chaplaincy role.

DEBBIE: My job is to help women make a transition from prison back into the community, to connect them to a faith community if they so wish or connect them back into the faith tradition they previously had. 

In Edmonton, we have the only federal prison for women for the Prairie Region of Canada. A federal prison houses individuals sentenced to terms of two years and over. The women I work with fall into that category, all the way from two years to those who are sentenced to life. These are women from all over the prairies. There is also an indigenous healing house called the ‘Buffalo Sage Wellness House’ for those who follow indigenous traditions. This is run by the Native Counselling Services of Alberta. I work with the prison system, the indigenous healing centre, and Edmonton Parole.

One of my duties is to accompany women on escorted temporary absences. These ladies have earned the right within the prison system to be granted passes, leaving escorted for specific purposes. I will go with them to The Mustard Seed for Clothes, to attend integration sessions that we provide, to meet family members, or to attend prison prescribed programs or medical appointments. Often, I will pick the ladies up on their release days, take them to an assigned parole officer, take them for groceries, accompany them to the halfway house for day parole or drive them to their Saturday night support group meetings. We have employment counsellors at The Mustard Seed so I will set ladies up for counselling who are looking for a job after their release. I help them to find a place to live and to acquire essential furnishings to be able to function.

The drives ‘to and from’ these appointments with the women are always the best part. That is when we talk and laugh together, and we can build a relationship.

On one of the early outings, I was asked by one of the ladies, ‘What do you do?’ I explained that I was a chaplain. She then asked ‘So, does that mean you do a lot of the work of God?’ In my exchange with that lady, I realized that ‘yes’ this was the work of God. That conversation has really shaped how I approach my work. Is it spiritual to help someone go to church? Is it a spiritual thing when someone needs a Bible? Is it a spiritual thing when someone needs to talk about the anguish of having abandoned their children because of an addiction that ended in their incarceration? Is it a spiritual thing to help someone look for a place to live? Is it a spiritual thing to help someone find clothes to wear or food to eat? 

I am not a social worker although there are social aspects to it. Chaplaincy is a place of belonging, a place of prayer, a place of spirituality, a place for recognizing people as a whole, including spiritually. I am moved by the most fundamental belief that everyone is created in the image of God and worthy of dignity and respect. There are no ‘throw-away’ people. God is a God of redemption, forgiveness, restoration, and reformation. No one deserves to be labelled or defined their entire life by the worst decision they have made.

My job is to help people make that transition back to a new beginning. It starts at the prison. I am there (outside of COVID restrictions) on a weekly basis to know and be known, to not judge, but to meet the ladies where they are at. Believing that support comes through a relationship, I believe that someone is much more likely to receive support from someone they know and trust. This is so much different than simply handing them a business card that says, ‘Chaplain, call me if you want to talk.’

Not infrequently the ladies, who have no family or have been disowned by family, list me as their only emergency contact number. That humbles me greatly.

Ninety-eight percent of the people who are incarcerated will be getting out of prison. The possibility for success post-incarceration is much greater if the release is gradual and there is a support system in place after the release. During the period of incarceration, help is available through the prison system. However, after release, the ladies are dependent on organizations like The Mustard Seed to help them adapt and adjust.

An unverified statistic suggests that 75% of those incarcerated do not commit another crime that results in re-incarceration. We work to try to make that life after incarceration worthwhile for them.

Some will take ‘self-serving advantage’ of the support we offer. But most of the women I see are trying to move forward in life with some intent. They are not always successful, but they are trying.

AL: What would the age range be of the women you work with?

DEBBIE: I see ladies from 18 years to ladies in their 70’s.

AL: What keeps you going day after day for 12 years? What are some of the high points for you?

DEBBIE: Some days I wonder if I am making a difference, but I know deep down that I am. It’s embarrassing when people call you their ‘angel’, but they sometimes do. I keep all the sweet notes they send me.

There are lots of days when I sit with ladies who have faced so many obstacles and still want to get up in the morning and try to be better. That kind of beauty is compelling. As a pastor, you preach a sermon hoping that maybe someone will want to change and grow, convincing the congregants that they need what you are suggesting. In rare cases, you may find people being honest about who they really are. The women I work with do not carry a lot of pretenses. It’s a pretty honest crowd and there is something beautiful about the courage to honestly look at who you are and where you messed up and try to change. To be invited into that journey feels very sacred to me.

AL: What are some of the most difficult parts of what you do? 

DEBBIE: There are difficult parts for sure. It’s really hard when you see people struggle and you can’t do anything about it. One of the first women I worked with was doing so well by all outward measures. Then she hit a rough time, and I was really hurt. I realized that she wasn’t intending to hurt me. I was just collateral damage. I remember thinking, ‘Should it hurt this much? Should I care this much?’ I concluded that, for me to do this work in a way that I wanted to do it, I was going to have to care and that meant I was going to get hurt. If that’s the price, that’s okay. Sometimes, I don’t know if the women I have worked with are still even alive. I have a list in the back of my book of all the women that have died since I started doing this and not one of them was 98 and went to sleep. 

When I hear of missing and murdered indigenous women, I think of Gloria, who I loved, who was murdered and found in a field in Manitoba. I think of Lizzie who desperately wanted me to mentor her in the Christian faith so she could be a good mother to her three kids. But before she could succeed, she died of an overdose. I think of Katie who was beaten to death by her partner. I think of Nicky who sent me the most hilarious text one day, “For the love of God, could you please help me get to the food depot.” I took her to the food depot to get what she needed. Then I received a message from another one of the women saying, “she’s dead.” That’s hard!

AL: How do you process that?

DEBBIE: Well, first I know that’s it not because no one cared because I did. Very early on in my role, my wise boss asked me, “Is there anything that you are concerned about?” I replied, “I am concerned that I will not be enough.” He didn’t reply, he just let me sit in that. Then I realized that, of course, I would not be enough. I needed to own that. There will be times when everything that I do will not alleviate the suffering of a lady. What will I do then? I understand that I must be okay with that. I am not the Saviour of the world. I am not the Saviour of these ladies. But I am going to trust God that I am going to be where I need to be when I need to be there, with the resources that I have available to me and within me. And when that isn’t enough, I am going to have to be okay with it.

It is not a neat package where everything ends up well. You can do everything in your power and Katie still goes back to the guy who beats her to death. 

I guess the bedrock foundational of my understanding is that I am not enough, but I am something. And I have seen so many times, in so many ways how God has directed me in the right time to the right place. I have seen God orchestrate timely appointments or provide needed resources exactly when they were required. 

On the very first day of my ministry here, I went on a community walk through downtown Edmonton to become familiar with Inner City's social Issues. By the end of the day, I thought, “Is there anyone in this city who is not an addict or an alcoholic? I think I am on a different planet from the one I am used to.” 

Just before I started this ministry, I was leading a women’s mission team to Zambia, Africa. On some days off, we went on safari with the global worker, Cheryl Johnson. I remember being overwhelmed with the beauty of it all and thinking, “God You behold this all the time, and You are not overwhelmed. How big You are!” The day I walked through Edmonton’s inner city, I thought, “God You know, You see all the suffering, the injustice, ugliness, the poverty, the depravity, the perverseness, and You are not overwhelmed by it. How big You are!” The feeling was so much alike to the one in Africa. It seemed bizarre, the juxtaposition of these two things. Yet, there is nothing that overwhelms the greatness of God.

I don’t understand suffering. I don’t understand how someone can be born into a family that would ‘pimp’ her out into prostitution when she was six years old, except the brokenness of that family, and the family before desperately trying to break the cycle and failing to succeed. I don’t hold to the glib axiom that ‘God won’t give them anything more than they can handle.’ I see it all the time, way more than they can handle. But I don’t think God gives it to them. We live in a very broken world. That’s reality.

When I started in this role, I had just come through a season of personal breaking and had come to understand that I, also, am a broken person. I can’t judge others for their brokenness or for decisions they have made from that brokenness. I know God is present. I lean into the mystery of that. I don’t have to have an answer. I just need to be there as His representative.

The difference between a fireman and an ordinary citizen is that the fireman runs into the fire when everyone else runs away. I think what being a chaplain has taught me is that where most people have an aversion to suffering and try to avoid it, we walk into the middle of it. Entering someone’s suffering, that’s what is sacred. There is beauty in their honesty. There is hope for change. There is an opportunity to offer grace without judgment. 

AL: How can we pray for you, Debbie? 

DEBBIE: That I would be an instrument of healing for people who are dealing with trauma and grief, loss and shame. Yeah, that’s all – that I would be an instrument of healing.

AL: Thank you so much Debbie for your candour and honesty in sharing your heart. I have tremendous respect for what you do, and I am humbled by this conversation.

On a very practical note, if someone who reads the transcript of this interview feels moved to financially support the work you do, how would they go about it?

DEBBIE: If you wish to support this ministry, click here. The designation must be made specifically to OPEN DOORS. You may also call 1-877-731-7333.

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