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mind is restless and cannot be confined.
It will go on, every waking hour, thinking
something, recalling something,
dreaming of something or with fear of
some future happening. You do have
control over this restlessness. It can be
channeled, but you cannot stop it.
Time may seem to stand still, but the
human mind is never quiet.
Early in my solitary confinement, I
made up for myself a daily order.
Upon awakening, after the Morning
Offering and an hour of meditation, I
would say Mass by heart, the Angelus,
make an examination of conscience,
pray the Rosary three times daily, one
in Polish, one in Latin and one in
Russian, and I would chant hymns. Being
human, I made the same mistakes as
every human. I prayed fervently for the
conversion of my interrogators and for
more food, as there was no way not to
think such thoughts in extreme hunger.
The actual pangs of hunger would be
so intense, I could not believe any other
suffering could equal that torment. My
interrogators were not converted and I
never received an extra portion of food
or cup of water. I soon learned that
prayer does not take away bodily pain
or mental anguish. Still, this prayer
provided me with a moral strength
and it is certainly what helped me
through every crisis.
Gradually, I learned to purify my prayer
and remove from it all self-seeking. I
stopped asking for bread for myself
and offered up the suffering and pains
of hunger that I felt, for all the others
in the world and in Russia, who were
enduring a similar agony. “Thy Will be
done!” That was the key! Only slowly
did I come to realize how perfect a
prayer is the OUR FATHER. Posture is
not essential to prayer, perseverance is!
After 5 years of solitary confinement,
I was convinced that the efforts to clear
my name were utterly useless. The
interrogator adopted a new approach,
and became kind and gentle, and led
me so sweetly to this moment. The end
was in sight; He handed over to me a
volume of materials and asked me to
sign each page. I tried to ask the Holy
Ghost to prompt me to say something,
give me words of wisdom, or change
the charges brought against me; but I
felt nothing. Abandoned by God, I knew
that I must do something. Weakly, I
replied: “I can’t sign this, the way it
is written. It’s not what I said or
did.” Quietly, with ice in his words,
the guard replied: “Do you realize,
stupid American, the seriousness of
this final procedure? It is a matter
of life and death. Either you sign
the document as it is or we will get
rid of you. There is a bloody war
going on outside. If you don’t sign
those pages, I will sign right here,
and you will be dead before the sun
sets!” I was completely stunned into
submission. As I signed the pages
without reading them, I began to burn
with shame and guilt. It was a moment
of agony I shall never forget for as long
as I live. I was despicable in my own
eyes, no less than in others. Back in
my cell, I stood shaken and defeated.
I turned to prayer which was a matter
of reproaches: “Why had God failed
me! Why did He not shield me by
His Grace? Slowly, reluctantly and under gentle
prodding of grace, I faced the truth
that was at the root of my shame: I
knew in my heart that I had tried to
do too much on my own. I felt guilty
that, while I had asked God for His