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On December 1, 2008, our dear friend and brother Jose Abreu went home to be with the Lord. Jose was, as Chuck Colson has said, a true "Living Monument" to God's grace, mercy, and love.
Jose gave his life to the Lord while in prison, and, along with his dear wife Mayra, devoted the rest of his days sharing the love of Christ with prisoners and their families.
We will miss him very much, and we invite you to read his story, first written in 1993.
"Little did I know that God would use something like Angel Tree—just simple toys and simple presents-to bless my family, to turn my wife around." There's joy in the voice of ex-prisoner Jose Abreu. And gratitude. And wonder.
"It was a gift from heaven," says Jose's wife, Mayra. "That's what we thought when we received that [Angel Tree] package"—four years ago on Christmas Eve, when Mayra was living on the edge, addicted to crack cocaine.
After three years of shuffling back and forth between welfare hotels and homeless shelters, she and her three children had precariously settled in a Queens, New York, public housing apartment.
"I would go to sleep scared," says daughter Mencia, a pretty, streetwise 12-year old, recalling life in the shelters. "All my mother's friends were on drugs and they could come in anytime . . . not even friends—strangers out of nowhere. We were scared 24 hours [a day]."
Mencia remembers hearing gunfire at night. "I was afraid for my mother . . . that she would be dead somewhere."
Even at age seven, Mencia knew the drugs were destroying her family. "Why are you doing this, Mom? What's the matter with you?"
Mayra always had an empty answer for her daughter's pleas: "Mencia, Mencia, I'm going to stop, I promise."
Left Without a Father
The drugs had already stolen away Mencia's dad, arrested in April 1988 for two of countless burglaries to feed his hungry addiction.
Mencia tearfully recalls Jose's absence. "It's hard not to have a father . . . I believed in him so much . . . Even when he was in prison. I loved him the same."
And even in a psychiatric institution for the criminally insane, wasted Jose found a Christian volunteer who loved him and believed in him enough to introduce him to Christ, who transformed his world.
Late in Franklin Correctional Facility, Jose attended Prison Fellowship seminars and Bible studies. With the enthusiasm of a new convert, Jose wanted to share his life—changing faith with his family—especially Mayra.
"Unfortunately, I got real pushy about it," says Jose, who showered Mayra with leaflets, tracts, Bibles. He even arranged for prison volunteers to visit Mayra and witness to her. But Mayra wanted nothing to do with Christ. And, admits Jose, "the more I pushed, the further away she got from Christianity."
Then in autumn 1989, without much thought or explanation, Jose signed up for his children to receive Christmas gifts through Angel Tree—to be purchased by PF volunteers, but delivered "from Dad."
"I filled out [the applications]," Jose remembers, "thinking it was just routine, like many other things—and many other promises."
When Jose mentioned Angel Tree to Mayra, she didn't pay much attention either, even though she hadn't bought any gifts for the children. She intended to, of course, if she could just hold on to some money . . .
Then on Christmas Eve, just before Mayra and the children left their apartment to spend a meager Christmas at Mayra's sister's, someone knocked on the door.
"Dad Is Thinking of Us!"
"There was a UPS guy with a BIG box," says Mayra. "We took the box into the living room and opened it. It said, ‘from Jose Abreu.' Jose Abreu? How can it be? Jose's in jail. He can't buy anything!
"Then it clicked in my mind: Angel Tree!"
The kids went crazy. "It's from Daddy!" Mencia shouted. "Dad is thinking of us. Dad got us this!"
Tears well up in Mayra's eyes as she recalls, "My kids were crying and jumping up and down and hugging me, ‘Mommy! Look what I have!' "
A doll for Mencia. A space shuttle for Alejandro. A farm for Enriquillo. Clothes for everyone.
"That is when I cried out to God, and I knew that He loved me," says Mayra. "I accepted the Lord Jesus Christ into my life.
"And then I prayed with my kids," Mayra continues. "I said, ‘God, please help me to stop this bad habit I have . . . I don't want it anymore . . . Take this drug addiction away from me please so I can be a responsible parent . . . the mom they deserve to have.' "
At that moment, Jesus delivered Mayra from her addiction. The Abreu family was free at last. It was a gift from heaven.
"When Mom accepted Christ, I was right there," says Mencia. "And I accepted Christ with her.
"It's a total change for our family—reuniting, getting to know what love is all about."
And Jose was part of that reuniting, coming home to his family in July 1990. "I didn't walk out of prison by myself," Jose proclaims. "I brought Jesus with me."
"We [started doing] fun things together that we had never done before," says Mayra. "We went to the beach, the park, the museum of natural history, movies, the amusement part, and camping every summer." And, to the children's great relief, there were "no more addict friends coming around, no more drug dealers, knocking on the door, no more hiding, no more lying."
To this day, they do not know the identity of the PF volunteer or volunteers who sent that UPS package on Jose's behalf. Whoever you are, Jose and Mayra—and Mencia and her brothers—say thank you. To them, you are a gift from heaven.
Postscript 2009
After that UPS package arrived two decades ago, Jose and Mayra Abreu continued to reflect the life-saving power of Jesus Christ. They both enlisted in prison ministry through Prison Fellowship. Jose conducted in-prison seminars—including Free At Last, helping other prisoners break free of their drug addictions. For four years he directed Door to Life Ministry, a church-based, residential drug treatment center.
Mayra went to work part-time in the New York City Prison Fellowship office, where she immersed herself in Angel Tree logistics for the whole state. Today she serves as an Angel Tree Program Specialist for four states—Connecticut, Michigan, Missouri, and New York—working with prison chaplains to make sure thousands of other prisoners have the opportunity to provide Christmas gifts for their children, as Jose did for his.
Several years ago, the Abreus moved into a much more personalized children's ministry when they began to welcome prisoners' infants into their family. Mayra and other volunteers regularly visited the female inmates at Rikers Island in New York—including the nursery, where qualifying mothers who bore children while in prison could keep the newborns with them for one year. Then one day a mother asked Mayra, "What will you do for my child?"
That's when Jose and Mayra started making arrangements with concerned mothers and Family Court to receive legal custody of the children and care for them like their own—until the mom was released and the court deemed her stable enough to reclaim her child.
Since then, at least a dozen children have come through the Abreu household—boys and girls, some short-term, some indefinitely. Right now their extended family includes Isaac, 17, whom they have cared for since he was born; Kevin, 14, who also came to them as an infant; and Kevin's little brother Kiano, 7, who has cerebral palsy.
As for the original Abreu siblings, Mencia, now 28, studies bilingual education at Hunter College and has an infant daughter of her own.
Alejandro, 27, served in Iraq and is now on his way to Ohio State University School of Law.
Enriquillo (Ricky), 24, currently works for Jet Blue Airlines.
And Mayra, in the wake of Jose's death in 2008, admits, "I have my good days and my bad days." With her children and her ministry, she adds gratefully, "I've got my hands full every day."
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