She Asked for A Poppy Seed Party

Friends,

Our newest Parish Mobilizer for One Parish One Prisoner, Austin Rehbein, has a story to share about her experience as a team member on an OPOP team. At OPOP, we talk a lot about accompaniment—showing up, staying present, and learning alongside the people we serve. Austin's story is a beautiful and honest example of what that actually looks like, including the unexpected detours.

Chris Hoke,

Underground Ministries

Founder & Executive Director

My partner and I were both on our church’s One Parish One Prisoner team. (I’m in the yellow sweater!) We were very excited to be able to pick up our friend—we’ll call her Andrea—for the first time from work release and bring her to our home during Christmastime. We wanted to cook for her, watch movies, and feel cozy and normal in a home. And we had a wonderful time cooking together and hanging out. We were also proud of the elaborate charcuterie plate we put together with different cheeses, crackers, smoked salmon, and more. We talked and laughed and totally bonded.

But about 30 minutes after dropping her back off at the work release site, I got long, anxious texts from Andrea:

“Oh my God! What did you guys give me!! I just had a positive drug test, and they’re accusing me of doing drugs! You can tell them I didn’t! I was with you the whole time! Oh my God, they could send me back for this! What do I do? This is what I get for thinking I can act like I’m normal. I’m not normal. I don’t get to be normal!”

We looked at all the food we served. Could the capers have gone bad? Could something have become fermented and turned into alcohol? We couldn’t imagine what had gone wrong. I pulled out the cracker boxes.

Sesame poppy seed. Shit. We gave her poppy seeds.

They show up as opiates in a drug test.

I sent Andrea pictures of the crackers. I tried to get in touch with the person in charge at her facility, whom I already knew. I started writing a letter to explain what had happened—that she did nothing wrong.

But Andrea was spiraling, sending long texts about how all the hard work she’d done meant nothing if she was punished for something so small, about how people who didn’t give a shit about her had her life in their hands.

I called my dad, who worked in pharmaceuticals. I called my cousin, who is a nurse. Can’t they tell if it’s a freaking poppy seed or drugs?

Yes. They have tests for that. But they don’t use them. A positive test is a positive test.

We messed up. And there was no way to undo it, to fix it, or even to take responsibility for it. No one cared whose fault it was. She had a positive test.

We spent the next month not knowing if her release date was confirmed or not. She spent the next month not knowing if her release would be affected or not. She just kept her head down, kept to herself, trusted no one, and waited for someone to tell her what her future held.

We kept in touch mostly through texts. I tried to offer advice on staying calm and grounded. It was the wrong advice. It was so difficult not being able to help or make amends—just to watch her live in that liminal space and carry all the anxiety.

We never really got an answer. For a month, we wondered and waited. Nothing was communicated to her, and nothing changed—but she was released on schedule.

A group photo of our OPOP team (and a smiley face on our released friend.)

This gave us a chance to experience some of the anxiety, uncertainty, and lack of agency she and many others experience while incarcerated. So much of the anxiety she experienced after release made a lot more sense to us, given the ways she was treated with so little clarity and respect. We learned to walk with that uncertainty as well. We are used to being in control of our own lives, used to being entitled to that control and outraged when it is threatened or taken away. We continue to look for more ways to offer and respect agency, and to honor the healing and time it takes for a sense of security to return.

We also continue to grow in grace for ourselves as we navigate a world that is unfamiliar to us, as we make mistakes, and as we grow in real time while trying to be good friends who don’t know everything.

A year later, when the testing was officially over, Andrea asked if we could have a poppy seed party. She would eat muffins, crackers, salad dressing, and enjoy another step toward freedom and respect.

We continue to be grateful for her grace and sense of humor.

Austin Rehbein,

Parish Mobilizer

One Parish One Prisoner