Letter from prison
I am reading Paul’s
letter to the
Philippians
early on
a Saturday
in Lent--
the text
of our retreat
![](/TFR/fairrevw.nsf/b741424eb13bc8c2852566cf0062cd3c/87154a1da16741be85256e5d007dd46e/Body/0.1DA?OpenElement&FieldElemFormat=gif) what the leader
![](/TFR/fairrevw.nsf/b741424eb13bc8c2852566cf0062cd3c/87154a1da16741be85256e5d007dd46e/Body/0.364?OpenElement&FieldElemFormat=gif) said was
![](/TFR/fairrevw.nsf/b741424eb13bc8c2852566cf0062cd3c/87154a1da16741be85256e5d007dd46e/Body/0.4E8?OpenElement&FieldElemFormat=gif) more an advance,
![](/TFR/fairrevw.nsf/b741424eb13bc8c2852566cf0062cd3c/87154a1da16741be85256e5d007dd46e/Body/0.674?OpenElement&FieldElemFormat=gif) a movement
![](/TFR/fairrevw.nsf/b741424eb13bc8c2852566cf0062cd3c/87154a1da16741be85256e5d007dd46e/Body/0.7F8?OpenElement&FieldElemFormat=gif) toward.
As the sun
comes over
the mountain,
shines into
my room,
the warm
yellow rays
laying across
the thin
pages in my
hand,
I imagine
St. Paul
smiling
from his cell
as he signs
his name,
hands the
letter
to the guard,
and passes
it on.
8 Mar 03
© Copyright 2003, E. Granger-Happ, All Rights Reserved.
Contents - Lent, 2003
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