My son was in prison. He was several hundred miles away and I could only visit him on weekends. These trips took all weekend and during a four-year period, I visited him 2 or more times a month and drove a total of probably sixty thousand miles.

My son needed me during that time more than ever. I faced a possible dilemma. How could I visit my son and still attend church services? It seemed that I could only do one or the other. While visiting him I would be in a strange town, and I desperately needed some moral support. Thanks to God's mercy, two different church congregations gave me that support.

The first congregation I visited was in Victoria, Texas. The pastor was very supportive. Nearly every time I was there he would mention me warmly from the pulpit. This helped me to feel more comfortable in a strange place. The church members also were very welcoming, and I was always happy when I could be there for their famous potluck dinners.

During this period of time my son was moved to a facility south of Dallas. It was daunting to have to call someone that I didn't know and once again ask for directions to a place that I had never been. When I arrived in the area for church services after driving 4 1/2 hours, I was tired. The people there welcomed me warmly. They did not seem shocked that I was there to visit my son who was in prison.

The minister knew I was coming and greeted me as he went up to give church announcements. This minister often gave a brief prayer during these announcements for those who were sick or suffering other trials. On many occasions he mentioned my son and me in his prayers. I can’t tell you how much that meant to me. I’d try and remember every word he said so that I could tell my son when I saw him the next day. Several people in the church there wrote to him. This meant a lot to both of us. When the minister understood that I would be visiting my son on a regular basis he asked members of the congregation to host me on those weekends. There were some families within the congregation who lived close to both services and the prison. They were able and willing to put me up on many of those weekends. That proved to be a real blessing, the least of which was saving hundreds of dollars on motel and food bills.

These wonderful people treated me like their best friend and acted as if I was doing them a favor by staying in their homes. I got to know the people in that southern Dallas church very well and was even able to attend various church activities with my friends in the congregation. This made the weekends much more than just a 600-mile trip to visit my son in prison. These trips were part of a life lesson in asking for help--something that did not come easily for me. There were several times during his incarceration that my son was unjustly accused. I knew that I could turn to my Dallas friends for help, and I did just that. There were several prayer requests on his behalf, and I received telephone calls and letters of concern during this troubling time.

The support didn't end when my son was released. I still correspond with some of the people from that congregation and have even gone up to visit the area just for fun. They consider me their church member who has the longest drive. I consider them the best friends I've ever had.

I learned that there are two sides to serving. We all want to serve others, but sometimes you have to be the one who is served. I was a stranger and they took me in. My son was in prison and these two congregations made it easier for me to visit him. These experiences have helped me to learn how truly wonderful and merciful God is.