Yesterday morning around 3:00 a.m., I was secured in shackles and chains and placed in the back of a van. The inside was really nothing more than a cage with a small metal bench where I would sit for the next five hours. I was being taken to the hospital in Galveston.

This is a long and difficult journey to make but sometimes very necessary, and this happened to be one of those times. I always try to make the best out of any situation, but as I heard the door slam shut I felt a momentary sadness. I closed my eyes and prayed, “Lord, I will give you praise and thanks in all situations and circumstances. Help me to see your beauty in everything my eyes behold.”

It was dark for the first few hours of the trip but not in my mind. Images played out before me — not only of the sweet, beautiful faces I have come to love so dearly, but also of those, so broken and lost, the Lord has allowed me to encounter during my incarceration. The moments I was able to witness their eyes filling with light and hope as I shared what the Lord has done in my own life, or simply when I have had the opportunity to look into their eyes with his love.

In the darkness of the van, tears of thanksgiving and awe filled my own eyes. Never would I have believed myself worthy of such things. To become a vessel of light and love for others. To be so consumed with the presence of the Lord that others can not only see it but experience him as well. Right there, sitting in the back of a cold van, my body bound in shackles and chains, I felt more blessed and freer than words can express, and all I could do was thank and praise him.

Thank you, Father, for the breath of life. Thank you, Father, for the gift of loved ones. Thank you, Father, for all you created just for us. Thank you, Father, for leaving the ninety-nine to search for the one. Thank you, Father, for giving us your one and only Son to show us the way back to you so that one day we will sit with you at your table and share in a feast you have prepared for us. To you, Father, we give all thanks and praise. Now and forever. Amen.

It was the shepherds — not the elites — who heard the proclamation and who went “in haste” to Bethlehem. It was they who were “amazed,” and who “returned, glorifying and praising God for all they had heard and seen.”

Note that they returned to their simple, sometimes arduous jobs, their decidedly unglamorous daily tasks, but they did so with rejoicing. Their encounter with Christ did not magically eliminate their struggles or raise their social status. The following day they went right back to their work as shepherds. But they viewed their work, their very lives, and reality as a whole — with new eyes.

All of reality now radiated with the positivity of that Child, whose presence marked the descent of God Himself into the realm of human affairs. The Eternal had now become temporal and thus encounterable, a comforting presence to accompany men and women throughout their days. The Church is the prolongation of this human encounter, so that men and women today can experience the same amazement the shepherds did 2,000 years ago.

Brittany’s encounter with Christ in prison — on death row, of all places – is an example of this. Like the shepherds, she is not one of the elites; but also like the shepherds, she marveled at the message proclaimed. She made no attempt to dismiss the encounter or raise objections to it like a cynic would. After all, her encounter with Christ did not fling open the prison gates and return her to the world; it did not loosen the shackles that secured her in the transport van.

Instead, it did something far more astonishing: it transformed her very person and her understanding, so that now she can view herself and others with a profound sense of mercy, which is the wellspring of authentic and life-changing joy. This is why her reflection ends with praise and thanksgiving that would be completely understood by the shepherds mentioned in today’s Gospel.

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The initial reflection above was written by Brittany Holberg, Texas Death Row, as accompanied by Joshua Stancil, who was also incarcerated for 18 years, and who provided the subsequent commentary. Joshua is currently the executive director of Living with Conviction and is Catholic Prison Ministries Coalition’s creative content specialist. This reflection comes courtesy of Karen Clifton, executive coordinator of the Catholic Prison Ministries Coalition, a collaborating organization with Catholic Charities USA.