How To Write Prison Love Letters

Scottdale woman participates in Prison Ministry

Octogenarian Jacqueline Huff of Scottdale is changing the lives of prisoners through the word of God.

For four years, Huff has been engaging in a letter exchange as a pen pal with prisoners from around the country in a program called the Prison Ministry.

"In October 2007, a friend called and asked if I would pray and write to her son in Allegheny County Prison in Pittsburgh," Huff said. "In writing to him, I told him the two most important words in Christian life are 'love' and 'forgive.'"

After several more exchanges, the prisoner asked Huff to send him a Bible, and this was the beginning of the Prison Ministry.

Huff now communicates with prisoners from Pennsylvania, Michigan, West Virginia and California.

In addition to the letter exchange, she also creates personalized bookmarks for prisoners with a photo of a loved one at the top, and usually a holiday greeting at the bottom. February and Valentine's Day are very busy times for Huff to create and send the crafts.

"It started with a single marker," Huff said. "My bookmark went from cell to cell and prison to prison. And then I write and ask if they have a Bible, and through that we establish a really good relationship."

Huff feels that the most important aspect of her exchange with prisoners is the personal correspondence they exchange and she is very dedicated to her responsibilities.

"I spend at least eight hours a day in answering (the prisoners') personal letters to me," Huff said. "My mail basket always has 14-15 letters to be answered."

Because those incarcerated cannot write to one another, Huff thought it would be a good idea to publish a paper that allows them to share poetry, artistic pieces and messages of encouragement with each other.

The paper is called The Sentinel: Guardian of God's Holy Word. Huff began publishing the monthly paper in January 2010.

In September, Huff will turn over publishing responsibilities to friend Heidi Wool, but will continue to keep in touch with prisoners through correspondence.

Huff's vision for The Sentinel includes one day having an office in the Pittsburgh area that will allow for publishing of the paper, a prayer room and an area to help those released from prison.

"In God's timing, the whole building will be bought, with an office to the side where people can go in and use computers to fill out resumes for jobs," Huff said. "(It) will have the publisher's office, a poet's office and a counseling room.

8.12.11: A Love Letter Back : Portland Book Review

Years ago, while working as an editor at a publishing house, I came to see that writers are a strange breed of human, the sort that will cross miles of dry desert for one reader that understands their book. This is because for writers, every word, every page, is proof of the heart. Much like the wild geese in Mary Oliver’s famed poem, words on the page announce “your place in the family of things”. During a particularly hectic week of my first book tour, amidst a flurry of reviews and readings, I received my first letter from a reader. Most writers remember theirs. Mine was from a young girl who said that my book had changed her life. New to the business or not, I hadn’t expected a letter like this. I felt incredibly humbled by this reader’s candor and courage. The letter made me remember the books that I, myself, had held onto for dear life. I was grateful The Language of Trees I’ll admit I folded it up and placed it within the pages of my tattered ARC that I used for readings. I never forgot about it, for it reminded me of why I chose to become a writer. Much like my father who’d kept a letter I’d once written to him folded in his wallet for 30-something years, I kept it with me. A letter like this is the reason writers recover from writing, even from the nail biting sorrow, year after year, of not having one’s own book to hold in one’s hands. To all the girls who ran wild at 17, who let their hair grow long and flung it boldly in the rain, who dyed their hair, who snuck out of windows and stayed out too late, who drank and smoked and danced on tables, to those who may have hurt themselves, who may have snuck off in the darkness with boys they didn’t love, who suffered under judgmental glares and secretly prayed for invisibility, to those girls who jumped off bridges into cold rivers and swam as though their lives depended on it, who wore too much eye-liner, who fought, who loved, who fell, who made mistakes, and got up again, and ran away, untethered, to where and to what they couldn’t have known, to all of you I implore you: Take heart, you who have passion, you who will ultimately prove your place in things, you who will ultimately bring magic and change to the world. It has been said that what we want most is for the heart to be known. Being published doesn’t prove your place adequately, though you think it will. Having 300 people attend a reading in your hometown proves it for about a week, tops.