The virus has forced all organisations to create contingency plans in order to cope with the unpredictable circumstances of our time. For Junction 42, a prison ministry charity well-known for creating bright futures for ex-offenders and vulnerable people, not being physically allowed into the prisons has caused them to change their strategy. Prisoners have been subjected to 23.5 hours in their cells each day, but the prisons still need to provide their human rights, and one of them is worshipping.

Prisoners have the right to practice their faith, so Junction 42 has stepped in to provide that service which otherwise the prisons themselves would have struggled with. Unlike the rest of society which has moved many services online, inmates are still not allowed to access the internet, so are therefore further isolated from new societal norms such as online church.  The ‘faith packs’ being made by Junction 42 include materials such as CD’s, bibles, and creative activities so church can still be a reality for our prisoners who desire to worship.

I’ve been fortunate enough to be involved in the manufacturing of the packs and management of the different hubs where volunteers come and generously give their time. With volunteers from LNER and some of the clients of the organisation, Junction 42’s HQ in central Newcastle has turned into a factory. As a result of this (sometimes very monotonous work), the volunteers have chatted, laughed and sang their way through the long hours. I’ve found that sitting with women from the organisation for the entire day winding wool to put in the creative packs, has enabled us to do what women do best, talk. Coming from all our different walks of life, we are able to unite under the common determination of reaching our men and women in prison, making the packs which will transform not just their cells but also their hearts.

Joanne was one of the women who shared her story with me. She has allowed me to write about it and I must add that I honour her incredible bravery to not only to share the reality of her life with me but also with you. Joanne recently lost both her mother and sister within the same week and was then admitted to hospital with a ruptured spleen this February. After being released from intensive care, she realised that the world had gone into lockdown without her knowledge. Additionally, her partner had died suspiciously in a hotel room whilst she was in hospital. Despite being promised a police report in June she is yet to receive one and therefore has not benefited from that closure. She was sent to a hostel where she lived alongside women with their own drug addictions and trauma, whilst trying to grieve the deaths of those closest to her and recover from her intense physical pain. She told me of how being homeless has become an agonising process which is not as simple as just getting enough money to live in her own property, and how she longs for that sense of normality which many of us take for granted. I told her how taken aback I was by her ability to come and volunteer on  the production line, and how she could open up about her year which has consisted of more trauma than most people experience in their lifetimes.

By working on the production line, men and women like Joanne are not only helping to heal those inside prison, but are also empowered to heal themselves. They know that their contribution to making packs is invaluable. That gives them cause to get up in the morning, when sometimes they feel able to stay in bed for days if not weeks at a time. Purpose and a space to share have become foundational in the culture I have seen emerge from our humble work stations, and although winding thousands of pieces of wool could be seen as a workers nightmare, for us, the production line is our small haven.

At the end of the day I go round on my own, cleaning the work stations, and I pray that Joanne and the women come back tomorrow.