Lou Gherig called himself the “luckiest man on the face of the earth” during his farewell speech, recognizing the blessing of the love being poured out upon him by former teammates and fans despite being forced to retire from the game he loved.  Gherig’s heroism in the face of impending death due to ALS provides inspiration for any who face difficulty.  And while Gherig must have felt like the luckiest man, I think the title belongs to me.

I think myself the luckiest, richest man on the face of the earth because God gave me a godly mother.  My mother wanted, and still wants, only one thing from her three sons:  that they love God with all their heart, soul, and mind.  And no mother has ever loved her sons more, found more joy in her sons, or sacrificed more for her sons.  My mother’s incredible example of godliness and sacrificial love makes me the luckiest man on the face of the earth.

My parents were told by multiple doctors that they could not have children.  They found a doctor who shared their belief that all things are possible with God, adopted my older brother, and kept trying – because why not, right?  They loved their first son with all their hearts.   Ten years later, surprise, surprise, a Timothy came along.  God made the impossible not just possible but actual.  Two years later, another son joined the Johnson home, another miracle.

Throughout our lives, my brothers and I have been told how much we were desired, how our parents prayed for us to be conceived and born.  I picture my mother, like Hannah, in the temple praying and crying out to God for Samuel, then dedicating him to the Lord.  She desired to have children with all of her titanic heart and devoted us to the Lord from the very start of her prayers.

No mother has ever found more joy in her sons.  Pictures exist of my family spanning across the 70’s, 80’s, 90’s, and through the early 20’s.  All of them, even the ones taking sans pose, depict a family who played and laughed together, a family who enjoyed being together.  This ‘together-joy’ flowed from my parents into and through their sons.

Even at 50, my Mom enjoyed playing on the beach or in the pool with her hyperactive children.  A day of playing was often followed by a game of cards or bowling.  During all of this play, we laughed and laughed and laughed.  My mom taught us that “laughter is the medicine for the soul.”  Laughter was not only our soul-medicine, but also our love-language.  Love and joy intertwine in my mom’s heart, then flow out to ferry her sons along in an unsinkable raft on this river of life. 

No mother has ever sacrificed more for her sons.  My mom has given more, especially of herself, than most people can imagine.  She gave us all of her time and money, and still does.  When I left my girlfriend’s corsage in the refrigerator the day of her prom, my parents drove an hour and a half each way to make sure I did not let her down.  My mom never had new clothes, but she made sure we did.  She took us shopping to the outlet stores in Smithfield, taking us out to eat, and celebrated with us at each special item found.  

When my younger brother and I began this incarceration crossing, my parents decided to make supporting us a priority.  They traveled to prisons around the state, week after week, for years on end to visit us.  They gave up their dreams of retirement to provide money for canteen, packages, shoes, food sales, phone calls, books and the many other expenses of supporting a person in prison.  My mother has never complained about the sacrifices.  She rejoiced every time we received anything special – a Christmas package, new shoes, or pizza – happy to sacrifice to give us something.

And no mother has ever loved her sons more.  Love cannot be precisely quantified but its presence can be detected, and my mother devotes herself to loving God and loving others.  The ‘loving others’ reaches her family first, especially her three sons.  Supporting a loved one in prison takes a financial toll, but the burden extends much further, especially when the incarcerated has an interminable sentence.  My brother was sentenced to 30 years and I to life without parole.  My mother did not just offer support, she shared our burden as her own.

She asked countless questions about our experiences and environment, and realizing that we live in a dark, drab world, she sent colorful cards, stationary, and bookmarks.  My hologram dolphins and donuts bookmarks make me smile every time I open a book.  The cards with affirmations like “Become the most enthusiastic person you know” and pictures like the frog who has the crane by the throat refusing to be swallowed and titled, “Don’t Ever Give Up,” hang on my cell wall and encourage me as I start each day.  My mom, my Mama, loves her son as much as any mother ever could.  

Outside support makes a difference impossible to explain.  It is impossible for most to truly understand how much it means to an incarcerated person to receive money, visits and books.  Having a little canteen money almost completely changes life.  I am not saying it means as much as being born anew in the Spirit of Christ – not even close.  That reconciliation changes eternity.  But having money to buy a decent toothbrush, dental floss, a Dr. Pepper, a Little Debbie Fudge Round, or ice cream does completely alter a person’s quality of life in the prison setting.  That money also makes it possible to purchase phone time, which is certainly not cheap, at $1.65 per fifteen-minute phone call.  Contact with friends and family is a precious blessing.  Whether good or bad, it makes it better to be able to share it with someone who cares.

Lincoln once expressed, “No man is poor who has had a godly mother.”  I’m taking that further, I believe a man who has had a godly mother is the luckiest, richest man on the face of the earth.  I am that man, because God gave me a godly mother.  Yes, it is true; the luckiest, richest man on the face of the earth resides in a North Carolina prison serving life without parole.  

ABOUT THE WRITER.  Timothy Johnson is serving a life without parole sentence.  He has a Bachelor of Arts degree in Pastoral Ministry with a minor in Counseling from the College at Southeastern Baptist Theological Seminary; he serves as the assistant editor for The Nash News, the first and longest running prison publication in NC; he was editor of Ambassadors in Exile, a journal/newsletter that represents the NCFMP; he is a co-author of Beneath Our Numbers; and he has been published in the North Carolina Law Review (Hope for the Hopeless:  The Prison Resources Repurposing Act https://scholarship.law.unc.edu/nclr/vol100/iss3/2/).
Recently, Timothy and Phillip Vance Smith, II, co-authored a piece for NC Newsline, which can be found here, and Timothy can also be heard on the Prison POD podcast on youtube.

Mr. Johnson can be contacted at:
Timothy Johnson #0778428
Nash Correctional Institution
P.O. Box 247
Phoenix, MD 21131

Timothy Johnson can also be contacted through GettingOut.com