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For about thirteen years, I’ve been serving as a Catholic lay volunteer to bring prayer, the Eucharist, and sacramentals inside the walls of Florida’s prison. The prisons I serve are in rural North Florida, just a few miles from the Georgia border.
This is Bible-belt country. Catholics are a small minority. Most of my children’s classmates have never met a real, live Catholic before. The folks who work in these prisons and many of the inmates are from these rural communities. It’s not unusual for me to spend a good chunk of my time explaining our faith to non-Catholic inmates and staff. This can be especially true on a day like today, when my objective is to deliver a purely Catholic sacramental. It’s not even spring, but the Florida sun is high—and hot—by noon.
“Already sweating and it’s only Ash Wednesday,” I sigh, making my way into the guard stations and entry gates. I will need to clear five guard stations and nine huge metal barred sliding gates before I even get to the inmates. The officer inside the bulletproof glass…
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