.

My eyes met his and I mouthed the words, "How can I help you? He spewed out a tyrant of angry words." I spoke, "honey, try to be calm". He yelled a few more profanities and then slowly, calmed down. I motioned to him to move over to the crack in the door, so we could talk to each other.

I told him I was sorry for what he was going through. "He said, "it's just not fair!" I said, "I know, life isn't fair." I asked him if he had ever tried to pray?" He said, "I do pray but God doesn't hear me." I said, " I know, I have felt that too, but have found that actually talking to God is the only thing that does help me." I said, "wh

It was a particularly troublesome night at Juvenile Hall, in San Diego. Kids from the age of 10-18 are locked up for all kinds of offences, from drug abuse to murder.

This night I could feel contention in the air. Due to their gang involvement, several young people had gotten into fights because of their hatred for each other,

What happens when they get into a physical fight? The coaches (guards) immediately jump on them to separate them, and the angry kids are ordered to hit the floor. If they don't stop, they are sprayed with pepper spray, which usually ends the outbreak. A call is immediately made to the other units. Coaches come running, to hopefully avoid a riot.

I have never seen a riot. The pepper spray and a command to the other kids, to hit the floor and put their arms over their heads, seems to keep them in control.

This night, two fighters were put in handcuffs and hauled off to Unit 60. (Isolation). I was near by when the signal for all traffic to stop was made. I happened to be close to unit 60 when I stopped and waited for the "all clear" signal, so I could move to the unit where I was assigned to speak.

Because I was so close, I witnessed first hand, “rage”, with nowhere for it to go. The two furious juveniles screamed and yelled at each other, through the thick walls, Fowl language was their primary communication. Their anger, hatred and feeling of helplessness caused them to pound and kick on the doors. Others, who were also in isolation, joined it. The sound level became tremendous, and very disturbing. It seemed to go on and on, with their voice levels getting higher and higher.

As I listened, I felt such hurt for them. I remembered when I was young, having nowhere to take my feelings, and no one to talk to. My Alcoholic Dad and my mother would be fighting and I would feel helpless. I had compassion for these kids. I somewhat understand them and why they hate. I know that many of them have never been loved and want to be cared for. Most often, bad things have been done to them, which lead to their criminal behavior. Their anger, hatred, and resentment come out, when something happens, and they are pushed over the edge.

That night I felt drawn to them. I felt inspired to try to comfort them. I walked to the door where the most anger was seeping out. I looked through the small window to see a young man with the face of a person who was possessed. His eyes were enraged, his mouth was open, and his teeth showed like a mad dog. His appearance was something you would see in a horror movie.

My eyes met his and I mouthed the words, "How can I help you? He spewed out a tyrant of angry words." I spoke, "honey, try to be calm". He yelled a few more profanities and then slowly, calmed down. I motioned to him to move over to the crack in the door, so we could talk to each other.

I told him I was sorry for what he was going through. "He said, "it's just not fair!" I said, "I know, life isn't fair." I asked him if he had ever tried to pray?" He said, "I do pray but God doesn't hear me." I said, " I know, I have felt that too, but have found that actually talking to God is the only thing that does help me." I said, "wh

come running, to hopefully avoid a riot.

I have never seen a riot. The pepper spray and a command to the other kids, to hit the floor and put their arms over their heads, seems to keep them in control.

This night, two fighters were put in handcuffs and hauled off to Unit 60. (Isolation). I was near by when the signal for all traffic to stop was made. I happened to be close to unit 60 when I stopped and waited for the "all clear" signal, so I could move to the unit where I was assigned to speak.

Because I was so close, I witnessed first hand, “rage”, with nowhere for it to go. The two furious juveniles screamed and yelled at each other, through the thick walls, Fowl language was their primary communication. Their anger, hatred and feeling of helplessness caused them to pound and kick on the doors. Others, who were also in isolation, joined it. The sound level became tremendous, and very disturbing. It seemed to go on and on, with their voice levels getting higher and higher.

As I listened, I felt such hurt for them. I remembered when I was young, having nowhere to take my feelings, and no one to talk to. My Alcoholic Dad and my mother would be fighting and I would feel helpless. I had compassion for these kids. I somewhat understand them and why they hate. I know that many of them have never been loved and want to be cared for. Most often, bad things have been done to them, which lead to their criminal behavior. Their anger, hatred, and resentment come out, when something happens, and they are pushed over the edge.

That night I felt drawn to them. I felt inspired to try to comfort them. I walked to the door where the most anger was seeping out. I looked through the small window to see a young man with the face of a person who was possessed. His eyes were enraged, his mouth was open, and his teeth showed like a mad dog. His appearance was something you would see in a horror movie.

My eyes met his and I mouthed the words, "How can I help you? He spewed out a tyrant of angry words." I spoke, "honey, try to be calm". He yelled a few more profanities and then slowly, calmed down. I motioned to him to move over to the crack in the door, so we could talk to each other.

I told him I was sorry for what he was going through. "He said, "it's just not fair!" I said, "I know, life isn't fair." I asked him if he had ever tried to pray?" He said, "I do pray but God doesn't hear me." I said, " I know, I have felt that too, but have found that actually talking to God is the only thing that does help me." I said, "wh

at each other, through the thick walls, Fowl language was their primary communication. Their anger, hatred and feeling of helplessness caused them to pound and kick on the doors. Others, who were also in isolation, joined it. The sound level became tremendous, and very disturbing. It seemed to go on and on, with their voice levels getting higher and higher.

As I listened, I felt such hurt for them. I remembered when I was young, having nowhere to take my feelings, and no one to talk to. My Alcoholic Dad and my mother would be fighting and I would feel helpless. I had compassion for these kids. I somewhat understand them and why they hate. I know that many of them have never been loved and want to be cared for. Most often, bad things have been done to them, which lead to their criminal behavior. Their anger, hatred, and resentment come out, when something happens, and they are pushed over the edge.

That night I felt drawn to them. I felt inspired to try to comfort them. I walked to the door where the most anger was seeping out. I looked through the small window to see a young man with the face of a person who was possessed. His eyes were enraged, his mouth was open, and his teeth showed like a mad dog. His appearance was something you would see in a horror movie.

My eyes met his and I mouthed the words, "How can I help you? He spewed out a tyrant of angry words." I spoke, "honey, try to be calm". He yelled a few more profanities and then slowly, calmed down. I motioned to him to move over to the crack in the door, so we could talk to each other.

I told him I was sorry for what he was going through. "He said, "it's just not fair!" I said, "I know, life isn't fair." I asked him if he had ever tried to pray?" He said, "I do pray but God doesn't hear me." I said, " I know, I have felt that too, but have found that actually talking to God is the only thing that does help me." I said, "wh

hate. I know that many of them have never been loved and want to be cared for. Most often, bad things have been done to them, which lead to their criminal behavior. Their anger, hatred, and resentment come out, when something happens, and they are pushed over the edge.

That night I felt drawn to them. I felt inspired to try to comfort them. I walked to the door where the most anger was seeping out. I looked through the small window to see a young man with the face of a person who was possessed. His eyes were enraged, his mouth was open, and his teeth showed like a mad dog. His appearance was something you would see in a horror movie.

My eyes met his and I mouthed the words, "How can I help you? He spewed out a tyrant of angry words." I spoke, "honey, try to be calm". He yelled a few more profanities and then slowly, calmed down. I motioned to him to move over to the crack in the door, so we could talk to each other.

I told him I was sorry for what he was going through. "He said, "it's just not fair!" I said, "I know, life isn't fair." I asked him if he had ever tried to pray?" He said, "I do pray but God doesn't hear me." I said, " I know, I have felt that too, but have found that actually talking to God is the only thing that does help me." I said, "wh

.

My eyes met his and I mouthed the words, "How can I help you? He spewed out a tyrant of angry words." I spoke, "honey, try to be calm". He yelled a few more profanities and then slowly, calmed down. I motioned to him to move over to the crack in the door, so we could talk to each other.

I told him I was sorry for what he was going through. "He said, "it's just not fair!" I said, "I know, life isn't fair." I asked him if he had ever tried to pray?" He said, "I do pray but God doesn't hear me." I said, " I know, I have felt that too, but have found that actually talking to God is the only thing that does help me." I said, "why don't you try it again, so you don't have to feel so alone, and so you can get some comfort." He said, "ok, he would try." I then said, "I know you've had bad things happen to you. How would you like to do something nice to help other kids? Would you write a letter, for me, which I can read to other kids, so they don't have to experience what you are now going through? He immediately said, "I would love to, I want to do that". I thanked him and I told him I would return the following week for the letter. From the crack in the door we both moved back to the small window. I then saw a different young man looking out at me. The anger was gone. It was replaced by a smile. I smiled back. I threw him a kiss. The room was quiet.

I walked passed the next door and a voice yelled out at me "Lady, I need to talk too." I went through much of the same scenario, as I did with the first young man. This young boy talked about committing suicide. I asked if he had a family. He said he had a big family who loved him. I told him that if he were to kill himself it would be the worst thing he could ever do to his family. It would hurt them more than anything else he could do. I said they would never get over it.

I told him, I remembered feeling like killing myself too, when I was young, because of the hurt I lived through, with my family. I told him I was really glad I didn't, because I would have missed out on the good life I have today. I suggested to him that maybe God had allowed him to experience some of the things he had gone through so he could use those experiences to help other people. I asked him, as well, if he would write me a letter to help other kids. He was enthusiastic about wanting to write the letter. He thanked me and was calm and also had a smile for me, as I left.

I went to a third door and repeated many of the same things. This boy said he was cutting himself. They are often full of so much anger, that their anger is turned toward themselves. They try to hurt themselves, by cutting their body. I tried to understand and comfort him and got him also to commit to a letter.

As I left the unit, there was silence, and I felt so grateful for the opportunity to give these troubled young people, a little love, understanding and encouragement. This experience made me realize how much our kids need people to care for them. The many letters I have received from them is proof of this.

I presented my volunteer program, "Be a Winner in Life", at Juvenile Hall, for almost ten years.