Cornerstone Ministry

Cornerstone Ministry To become the family or friend the inmate does not have. To become the missing support to the family left behind by their incarcerated loved one

08/26/2022

crossroadsofhope.church

04/12/2022

Shirley, Goodness, and Mercy . . . . (Psalm 23:6)
Shirley Elaine Rasmussen-Jacobson, January 3rd, 1929 - April 5th, 2022

Goodness and Mercy are proper adjectives to describe this amazing woman.
A mother, grandmother, and friend that so many of us were blessed with for a good number of years.

Her days were spent serving, serving the Lord, and serving so many of us. She was the most selfless woman I was so blessed to know, and I was so blessed to spend many of my days and years with her. Although my life was far from reflecting hers, I credit all of the goodness I do have within me, to her and her Christ-like example. During my darkest days, she would always tell me "This too shall pass." and to "Bloom where you are planted."

In the many thoughts I've had leading up to her passing, and since the moment she passed, one thing I was trying to think of was, 'what was her favorite song?' And the only answer I could muster was, 'Any song about the Lord.' She loved her music about the Lord, and I recall many mornings being woken early to her heavy footsteps as she made laps around the house, singing or humming whatever gospel song was in her head at that moment. She loved the Gaithers, that's for sure.

Grandma would also share messages often from her favorite television preachers, the top ones being both the Schuller family, and Dr. David Jeremiah. She was never short on encouraging, and never lacking in grace. Our family is far from perfect, but she was quick to forgive, and never one to judge us. She'd help in every way possible, all the way up to the end, when she could barely take care of herself, yet wanted to go help her daughter who has had medical issues of her own.

Growing up, I always thought her favorite color was yellow, because I always remember her yellow being yeller, so I naturally assumed this to be her favorite color. That is, until she got her green Ford Ta**us, which also had green interior, probably the ugliest interior in a car I've ever seen, but she loved it! She said this car was perfect, and that it was her favorite color. I guess I should have known she loved green, because for most of our entire lives, she had that famous green s**g carpet in her living room. She'd vacuum that thing with her heavier-than-her 1940's Hoover vacuum, and then rake it with her rake, I believe to be made for the lawn? Up until the day she left her home, she'd brag about that s**g carpet, and how it was like new.

She was proud of many things, but none more proud than that of her family. One day, as I talked with her on the phone, she told me she was proud of me. I was moved to tears, because I felt I'd done nothing in life for her or anyone to be proud of. Her cup ran over with love. She was and is, so amazing. I'll close with her favorite scripture, one she had memorized, probably until the end.

"Praise the Lord.
Praise God in His sanctuary
Praise Him in His mighty firmament!
Praise Him for His mighty acts
Praise Him according to His excellent greatness!
Praise Him with the sound of the trumpet
Praise Him with the lute and harp!
Praise Him with the timbrel and dance
Praise Him with stringed instruments and flutes!
Praise Him with loud cymbals
Praise Him with clashing cymbals!
Let everything that has breath praise the Lord.
Praise the Lord!"

06/07/2021

"Enjoy The Small Things"
by A.J. Rasmussen

Today, May 15th, 2021, was my first visit since March 8th, 2020. That is 435 days ago. My mom and I had just spent 48 hours together in one of the extended family visiting trailers, and although we were aware of this new thing called Covid, neither of us imagined that as we went our own way that day, we would be apart for so long. This was about 14 times longer than we'd ever gone without seeing each other.

It has been 435 days loaded with great difficulty. I am sure it has been extremely difficult outide these fences for those who are free, but in here, we've been completely severed from all family members and friends. We have also been cut from most all educational programming, church programming, ability to lift weights, all self-change programming, cut off from three-quarters of our friends inside here, our outside yard taken away, and forced to walk on eggshells in regards to wearing masks and socially distancing, or face retribution of punishment if either were not followed. Staff began using this mask wearing and social distancing stuff as a weapon to punish people in a time that was already beyond bearable for us. Stress levels have been at an all-time high inside here, aggression up, massive amounts of drug usage, and pruno production and drinking out of cotrol. Pure hell is the best way to describe this place the past 435 days.

After so much time with life seeming to have this new normal that we either adapt to, or continue to suffer, a silver-lining finally broke through the fog of anxiety-filled, depressed, and lonely days. About three weeks ago, the medical tents were moved, giving us our yard back. Two weeks ago, we were given back our weight deck. And last Sunday, visiting returned. The visits are no-contact, and we only get to see two people at a time, one time per month for one hour, but it is a start. Things are slowly looking up, thank God!

As I sit out here on the patio, sun shining down, I feel at peace. It is close to 80 degrees, warmer than normal for this time of year, a slight breeze, and I've got Blake Shelton singing God's Country in my ears as my duck friends munch down on the bread left for them. Across the Monroe Valley from me, towering over downtown, sit the snow covered Cascade Mountains. It doesn't get more beautiful and serene than this moment, at this location.

Sure . . . there were numerous moments through these 435 days that I'd hoped to go to sleep and not awake the next morning, but I've made it. In the process of difficulty comes the most lessons and growth. And in the end, you learn to be thankful for the smallest of things - most notably, the family and friends who remain by my side, who have walked each difficult step of the way, with me.

08/01/2020

The Monster Wants Out
by A.J. Rasmussen

It seems that every day which passes in my life, the more heightened my battle with anxiety becomes. Sometimes the it gets so overwhelming that I feel as tho I will die from the pressure in my chest, the difficulty with breathing, pressure inside of my head, feeling somewhat paralized - unable to do anything or go anywhere, constantly feeling on the verge of tears, stomach and intestinal distress causing my crohns disease to act up, and absolutely nauseated. At times I feel like there is a monster within, trying to fight its' way out.

What does a person do with this monster?

Well . . .
The pastors would say "Pray", "Read the Bible", or "Look at what you're allowing into your life."
All suggestions are worthy, but none of the above are something that seems possible when riddled with anxiety, and in the midst of depression.

The psychologist or psychiatrist, I can never remember who is who, would suggest a plethora of things, but most recently, meditation.
I've been taking this advice, and although it does seem to help, the monster soon roars up its' head once again. Surely you can't meditate 24/7?

Other inmates . . .
I think this might be what leads them to use drugs, or drink.
Not happening.

So what the hell do I do?
I know I have things to be thankful for, but I frequently have this bulleted list of negative truths that play like a Rolodex in my head, over and over again. Thank you Obsessive Compulsive Disorder . . .
. . Life in prison. Most of my family don't care about me anymore. A plethora of friends dropped me like a hot potato when I got arrested. My mother isn't getting any younger and could use my help and support out there. My grandma at 91 doesn't have a whole lot of years left. I have to take a mountain of medication thanks to crohns, neuropathy, and OCD. My uncle passed away, and I couldn't even talk to him before he left, nor could I be with my family during a difficult time. I've hurt many people during my lifetime and can't do anything to undo the pain I caused to them. I have two nephews whose entire lives I am missing out on. My friend Annette lost her entire right leg and has been stuck in various hospitals for nearly four months all by herself through it all. We have nothing but negativity being blasted across every news channel thanks to this virus, crazy-ass politicians, and the whole war on race. And the prison has been shut down of all programs, visiting, and chapel activity since this virus started.

That is a small portion of the Rolodex content I experience over and over and over again. I don't know what to do. I don't know how to get better. Some things I can never even talk to anyone about. I feel like a human pressure cooker at times. At the end of my rope, void of hope, peace, or any sort of joy. What is left? Do I just sit here collecting dust on this warehouse shelf? I hope that's not all my life has left, but as I lay here, it feels that it is so.

My hope is, this virus passes, or a vaccine is discovered, and life will resume as it once was.
And then, things will overall get better.
And the monster, it will then get out, taking with it the anxiety it is causing.
One can only hope.

https://action.aclu.org/send-message/save-lives-wa-prisons
04/09/2020

https://action.aclu.org/send-message/save-lives-wa-prisons

As the COVID-19 pandemic continues to spread across Washington and the nation, Governor Inslee must take action to prevent an outbreak in Washington prisons and jails, where close quarters make social distancing impossible. Send Governor Inslee a message and urge him to do everything he can to keep....

04/08/2020

Covid 19 WA - From Behind Bars . . .
by Joel Alexander

Beings I have ties to, obviously the inside, and also the outside, I am getting somewhat of an all-around experience of this Corona Virus. However, it still has seemed mostly surreal from inside here, because we have been sheltered from the actual virus much of its' existence.

From the beginning, everything continued here as normal. School, chapel services, visiting, medical appointments, yard time, gym time, and everything else in between did not change. Nobody was sick, and there was no panic or anxiety. And then March 12th came, and it was announced there would be no more visiting until further notice. Then came the wind-down of all educational, volunteer, and chapel programs. Shortly after that came the closure of the weight deck and basketball court, followed by forced social distancing, reducing the number of people who could go to the gym, yard, and chow hall at a time. After that came a reduction of people allowed in the active day room, restricting us to only our day room and cells for the most part. If we were caged 'animals' before, we have now been forced into a shoebox.

All of this has been enough to elevate tension and drive people to the edge, submerged in anxiety and depression. But then that would begin to be cranked up to a whole new level when we began to be yelled at, and treated like s**t by some staff, stressing this "social distancing" stuff. How though do we take the need to socially distance serious, when the only source of attracting this illness is through outside staff, but they don't come to work protecting us from their possible illness. Sure, they do a quick questionnaire on their way in and have their temperature taken, but as everyone knows, they can be a carrier and not show symptoms. Should they not be wearing masks and gloves always to shield us from the introduction of this apparently extremely serious illness?

As other inmates began to have cold or flu symptoms, people began to be quarantined, and others isolated, with constant vehicles coming in and out, hauling people to and from, looking like death wagons passing by.

I think the Department of Corrections has done the best they know-how, being handed something nobody could have ever have been trained for. They are also learning quickly as they go, and constantly adapting and changing to meet the needed changes. Could they do better? I'm sure they could, and they will continue to, and if future similar situations were they to happen, they'd be better prepared. This illness has been in our state, all around us, Kirkland and Everett ground zero, yet we just now had our first case in an inmate. That is pretty good I think.

I say all that, to digress to letting you know how horrible it is in here, I personally feel as though I'm merely existing, I feel like my brain is dying from a lack of use, and I feel as though the life is literally being sucked out of me.

Now my view from the inside out, being a part of the work my family does, I see the strain this illness has placed upon the ministry work we do, the ability to raise funding is complicated, not having jobs for the guys we help transition from prison brings new challenges, and just making sure their needs are met, is a strategic chess game like no other.

Also, to see the struggles it has brought upon family and friends on a personal level, it just is sickening and frightening. And to be in a position of helplessness makes it all the more difficult. Garth Brooks had it right when he sang that life was a dance, but this here is more of a dance battle.

I have a couple of friends in the medical field, and to me, they are heroes on a normal day of work, but through this tragedy, where they see people, multiple people, die every day as they work extra-long shifts, clothed in protective gear that is hot and uncomfortable, my hat goes off to them. Our life isn't so bad when we consider what these heroes face every day. My life isn't so bad. Your life isn't so bad. Pray for me as I pray for you, and let's all pray for the people who are caring for the sick and dying. May God protect us all.

04/08/2020

Covid 19 WA - From Behind Bars . . .
by Joel Alexander

Beings I have ties to, obviously the inside, and also the outside, I am getting somewhat of an all-around experience of this Corona Virus. However, it still has seemed mostly surreal from inside here, because we have been sheltered from the actual virus much of its' existence.

From the beginning, everything continued here as normal. School, chapel services, visiting, medical appointments, yard time, gym time, and everything else in between did not change. Nobody was sick, and there was no panic or anxiety. And then March 12th came, and it was announced there would be no more visiting until further notice. Then came the wind-down of all educational, volunteer, and chapel programs. Shortly after that came the closure of the weight deck and basketball court, followed by forced social distancing, reducing the number of people who could go to the gym, yard, and chow hall at a time. After that came a reduction of people allowed in the active day room, restricting us to only our day room and cells for the most part. If we were caged 'animals' before, we have now been forced into a shoebox.

All of this has been enough to elevate tension and drive people to the edge, submerged in anxiety and depression. But then that would begin to be cranked up to a whole new level when we began to be yelled at, and treated like s**t by some staff, stressing this "social distancing" stuff. How though do we take the need to socially distance serious, when the only source of attracting this illness is through outside staff, but they don't come to work protecting us from their possible illness. Sure, they do a quick questionnaire on their way in and have their temperature taken, but as everyone knows, they can be a carrier and not show symptoms. Should they not be wearing masks and gloves always to shield us from the introduction of this apparently extremely serious illness?

As other inmates began to have cold or flu symptoms, people began to be quarantined, and others isolated, with constant vehicles coming in and out, hauling people to and from, looking like death wagons passing by.

I think the Department of Corrections has done the best they know-how, being handed something nobody could have ever have been trained for. They are also learning quickly as they go, and constantly adapting and changing to meet the needed changes. Could they do better? I'm sure they could, and they will continue to, and if future similar situations were they to happen, they'd be better prepared. This illness has been in our state, all around us, Kirkland and Everett ground zero, yet we just now had our first case in an inmate. That is pretty good I think.

I say all that, to digress to letting you know how horrible it is in here, I personally feel as though I'm merely existing, I feel like my brain is dying from a lack of use, and I feel as though the life is literally being sucked out of me.

Now my view from the inside out, being a part of the work my family does, I see the strain this illness has placed upon the ministry work we do, the ability to raise funding is complicated, not having jobs for the guys we help transition from prison brings new challenges, and just making sure their needs are met, is a strategic chess game like no other.

Also, to see the struggles it has brought upon family and friends on a personal level, it just is sickening and frightening. And to be in a position of helplessness makes it all the more difficult. Garth Brooks had it right when he sang that life was a dance, but this here is more of a dance battle.

I have a couple friends in the medical field, and to me, they are heroes on a normal day of work, but through this tragedy, where they see people, multiple people, die every day as they work extra-long shifts, clothed in protective gear that is hot and uncomfortable, my hat goes off to them. Our life isn't so bad when we consider what these heroes face every day. My life isn't so bad. Your life isn't so bad. Pray for me as I pray for you, and let's all pray for the people who are caring for the sick and dying. May God protect us all.

04/08/2020

The Washington State Department of Corrections has received confirmation that two additional incarcerated men housed within the Monroe Correctional Complex have tested positive for COVID-19. The men are ages 68 and 28.

PRESS RELEASE: Additional Positive COVID-19 Tests for Incarcerated Men within Monroe Correctional Complex | https://doc.wa.gov/news/2020/04072020p.htm

This is connected to Washington State MSU. We have inmates @ Twin Rivers, which is a part of this correctional facility.
04/06/2020

This is connected to Washington State MSU. We have inmates @ Twin Rivers, which is a part of this correctional facility.

The Washington State Department of Corrections manages all state-operated adult prisons and supervises adult inmates who live in the community.

We have guys at Twin Rivers (TRU), which is a part of the Monroe Correctional Facility. The employee works at WSR, one o...
03/14/2020

We have guys at Twin Rivers (TRU), which is a part of the Monroe Correctional Facility. The employee works at WSR, one of the other units at the facility. Heard two units were on lockdown, and then the news came out about the employee

The Washington State Department of Corrections manages all state-operated adult prisons and supervises adult inmates who live in the community.

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Snohomish, WA

Telephone

+12066598368

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