A prison cell does not look much like a place where purpose is supposed to grow.

After being convicted on five counts, I was sentenced to eight years on each count, consecutively, a total of forty years. I traded my suit and Italian shoes for an orange jumpsuit and was placed in Pod Four, Cell Sixteen.

But something unexpected began happening there.

My cell became a place where men could talk, pray, study the Bible, and ask questions about faith. What started with only a few men continued growing. At one point, our group reached fourteen, and I was asking the pastor to bring more Bibles. Eventually, nineteen men were involved.

I began seeing prison differently.

Then Judge Smith called.

He had heard about the church services and Bible studies taking place inside. After asking what I had learned, he asked one question I never expected to hear: how would I like to go home the next day?

I broke down crying.

Before leaving, I gave my remaining Bibles and study material to four of the men who had been with me the longest. I wanted what had started there to continue without me.

I entered prison thinking about forty years.

I left understanding that sometimes the place that looks like the end of your life can become the place where an entirely different life begins.