Down the Nights and Down the Days: Advent for a Prisoner Priest
. . . Offering Mass in a prison cell is a little like offering Mass in a battlefield. We don't have the luxury of an altar, and must make do with what we've got - which isn't much. In the middle of the floor in this eight-by-twelve-foot cell are two concrete stumps that protrude about two feet out of the concrete floor. Just inches to one side of my stump is an iron bunk, and inches to the other side is a concrete counter protruding sixteen inches from the stone cell wall. At first, I offered Mass sitting on the concrete stump with my Mass kit spread at the edge of my bunk. One of my treasures is a Hammond World Atlas. Whenever TSW readers post comments that mention where they are, Pornchai and I like to find their town or city in the Atlas. So far, we have had readers from 31 countries. . . .
Mirror of Justice, Mother of God, Mystical Rose: Our Lady of Sorrows
. . . I have never written of any of this before now. Those months awaiting trial became so stressful and depressing that I began to give up. I stopped accepting treatment for epilepsy, and ended up hospitalized at Albuquerque Presbyterian Hospital for a week. After a traumatic night, my good friend and co-worker Father Clyde Landry, came to see me. He brought from my room at the center a portable short wave radio to listen to. Later that night, I plugged in my earpiece and turned on the radio. It was close to midnight, and I was not even aware it was the Feast of the Visitation, May 31. I also didn't know my radio was on the short-wave band. Father Clyde must have moved the band by accident. I raised the antennae and played with the tuner, then stopped. I had stumbled upon EWTN's short wave broadcast from Birmingham, Alabama. As I lay there in the dark in that hospital room, I heard the Salve Regina intoned and chanted in my ear. . . .