Brush with prison triggers plan of God
Brush with prison triggers plan of God
Anne Reed
Anne Reed
AFA Journal staff writer

Photo above: Brenda Spahn (center front) and her daughter Melinda MeGahee (second row center) with Lovelady Center graduates, including Shay Curry Bell (left front), the shaven-headed leader in the story.*

May 2016 – Brenda Lovelady Spahn knew how to make money. A spirited, red-headed entrepreneur, she knew how to delegate and motivate. She grew up poor and promised herself she would one day be wealthy. And she was.

Multiple homes, luxury cars, jewelry, clothing, and the freedom to travel the world – she had everything she wanted.

It was April 15, 2002, when Spahn arrived at one of her 15 tax preparation offices in Birmingham, Alabama. Cars filled the parking lot. Each vehicle sparkled with promise in the 6 a.m. sunlight. Money was at her doorstep.

“It’s going to be one crazy morning,” she said with excitement as she parked her shiny Cadillac Escalade. Suddenly, car doors were slinging open and strangers were darting toward her from every direction.

Surprise party?

“I have a search warrant. This is a raid!” The words jolted her as her car door was abruptly jerked open.

She quickly realized she was surrounded, not by clients, but by police officers and federal agents. In the moments that followed, her business was turned upside down. Melinda, her daughter who worked as a tax preparer, was interrogated and left in tears.

They were being investigated for fraud.

Prison sentences loomed ahead. Spahn, with her typical fiery fortitude, immediately committed to fight every step of the way. This was a misunderstanding. Perhaps a few mistakes had been made along the way, but fraud?

She hired one of the best criminal lawyers in Birmingham. Everything would turn out in her favor with him by her side.

But then, unexpectedly, he died in his sleep at age 61.

Spahn started to panic. She saw the fear in her pregnant daughter’s eyes, and she knew she had to make a decision.

The fighter in her gave in. In the end, she pled guilty to four counts of false tax returns. She looked at her life and all that she had become in her quest for wealth. Regret overwhelmed her.

She prayed, “Okay, Lord … I’ll walk away from everything. I’ll do anything and everything You want me to do. I’ll stop focusing on money and start focusing on doing Your work. Help me. I’ll change my ways. Just please don’t make me go to prison.”

Sobering redirection
Moments later, Spahn’s attorney called with news of a deal. After 18 months, the threat of prison for this inseparable mother and daughter duo was finally gone.

The two were left with small fines, state ankle bracelets, and six months of in-house probation. And Spahn was left with a promise she couldn’t forget – her pledge to serve God.

But what did that mean? She prayed desperately for answers. The thought that came to mind was horrifying. Would she minister to the segment of society she had been terrified of joining – prisoners?

With an unintentional disregard for protocol, she pushed her way into a work release center that housed low-risk inmates. Spahn admits she didn’t know what to do once the door was miraculously opened to her. She started by simply listening and praying with each woman.

She was different from the others who had come to preach and teach while keeping their distance. The inmates grew to trust her. She began to believe God really had given her a distinct purpose. But as time went on, she saw far too many who were released, then returned to their old reckless and degrading ways, only to be incarcerated again. Her heart hurt for them. She knew she had to do something.

Scary commitment
She discovered there were no state-supported platforms and only a few community programs to help women transition into life outside prison. And those that did exist were not faith based.

“I believe that without faith in God, a person has no hope,” Spahn said. “Without hope, there is no chance for a future.”

Rather than a half-way house, Spahn wanted to start a whole-way house. Why not bring women into her empty 6,000 plus square foot, seven-bedroom home?

“I’ll just check on it every so often,” she assured her husband Jeff, who wasn’t at all happy about her crazy idea. “I’ll barely have anything to do with it.”

She conducted interviews and found the perfect house mother – discerning, determined, and dedicated. She quickly added a cook and a driver.

The day soon arrived when seven women from Julia Tutwiler Prison for Women arrived by bus at her beautiful home on the hill. Spahn’s excitement turned into horror as she peered out the kitchen window, across the shimmering pool, and observed the angry countenance of the head-shaven leader* and her gang of nefarious followers walking up the driveway. These were definitely not the women she had grown to love at the work release program. What had she gotten herself into?

She wasn’t the only person asking that question. Her three-person staff disappeared within the hour, never to be seen again. She had only her faithful Melinda, who immediately treated each of the sullen convicts like long-lost friends and honored guests.

Spahn’s only strategy for the days ahead was to trust God to show her the way. And show her the way, He did. While challenges were pressing and plentiful, a sense of mutual trust was slowly established.

Seeing progress
A year later, in 2005, Spahn was looking for a larger home that could accommodate the 42 women being served. She heard about an old hospital that was for sale.

“When I walked in, it was awful – terrible!” Spahn told AFA Journal. “We went to the hospital and asked them to give it to us.” She had prayed and believed the building was going to be given to her.

“Absolutely not!” was their response.

“So I put a lot of money down on it and rented it out to FEMA after hurricane Katrina.” She continued: “A few months later, a Catholic hospital sent their head sister over here, and she and I just hit it off like peas and carrots. They bought it, and they gave it to me.”

In memory of her father, Spahn named the building The Lovelady Center. With Melinda at her side, the two have seen it become one of the country’s largest transitional programs of its kind, currently serving well over 400 women and children.

Every aspect of the nine-month program is built upon the spiritual foundation of Christ. More than 90% of “the love ladies” who graduate go on to live free and productive lives. The Lovelady Center is staffed primarily by women who have successfully completed the program.

“I have so much respect for these women,” said Spahn. “They have endured so much. They come here afraid to hope because they think hope belongs to other people – not to them. We show them that they can dream, and hope, and love again.”  undefined

Film in the future
Production of a major motion picture based on Brenda Spahn’s memoir, Miss Brenda and the Loveladies, is currently underway.

Lovelady Center
The Lovelady Center generates 70% of its budget through a thrift store, program fees, and USDA food programs. Charitable contributions come through foundations and individual donors.

The Lovelady Center
7916 2nd Avenue S.
Birmingham, AL 35206
205-833-7410