This morning after Mass, I felt drawn to return to my little sanctuary—the cave that’s become my quiet place with God. Mini and I followed our familiar path, now well worn by our many trips. The branches swayed gently as if nodding us along, and the air smelled of earth and pine.
When we went inside, the cave felt still and welcoming. The little grotto with Our Lady and the bubbling stream greeted me like old friends. I dipped my fingers into the water and remembered today’s Gospel—Jesus teaching the crowd from Simon Peter’s boat. I thought about how He stepped into something so ordinary and used it to bring Heaven near.
That’s what the cave feels like to me—ordinary, maybe, but also touched by something holy.
I went back to the secret room, past the grotto, to the very back where John Hathaway’s carved walnut door stands. I never get tired of looking at it—strong and beautiful, made by hands that once lived here like I do now. Inside that room is my Underwood typewriter. The keys felt smooth and ready, so I typed slowly: “The charity of Christ presseth us.” The sound echoed gently in the cave like a hymn.
Just then, Shaggycoat appeared! His whiskers were wet, and he waddled right in as if he owned the place. Mini barked her greeting and wagged her little bottom. The three of us sat there in the quiet, each in our own way listening for something more.
Today reminded me that Jesus doesn’t wait for perfect boats or perfect people. He comes to where we are, sits where we sit, and speaks to the heart. I’m so thankful for this secret room, the soft rhythm of the stream, and the gift of words.
Evening Prayer
Dear Jesus,
Thank You for meeting me today in Your Word and in the stillness of this cave.
Give me a heart like those who gathered by the lake—eager, open, and full of trust.
Let my words, whether typed or whispered, bring You joy.
And may Mini, Shaggycoat, and I always make room for You in our little life together.
Amen.
Love,
Kathy
No comments:
Post a Comment