The Lowest Spot Sermon by Bishop Barron

 

Lowest Spot

 

 

It was a bright Sunday morning when Sister Mary Claire, Mini, and I walked up the gravel road to St. Mary’s. The church bell was ringing, and the red water tower with its big white letters All for Jesus shone against the sky like it was pointing us the way. Mini trotted happily beside us, her little ears bouncing with each step, almost like she knew it was a special day.

Inside, Father LeRoy read from the Gospel of Luke. Jesus told how, when you are invited to a banquet, you should not rush to sit in the best place, but instead choose the lowest seat. Then, if the host calls you higher, you will be honored. Jesus also said not to invite only friends or rich neighbors to your table, but to welcome the poor, the crippled, the lame, and the blind—those who cannot repay you.

After Mass, I told Sister that I didn’t quite understand why Jesus wanted us to take the lowest place. She knelt down next to me and said softly, “Kathy, Jesus is teaching us about humility. When we put others before ourselves, we make room for God’s grace. And when we give to those who cannot repay us, we give as He gives—freely and with love.”

That made sense to me. I thought of how Mini always waits quietly when we sit down to eat, never trying to grab the best piece, and how happy she is just to be with us. Maybe that’s what Jesus wants too—for us to be humble and grateful, trusting Him to lift us up when the time is right.

On the way home, the air felt fresh and kind, and the water tower looked tall and steady in the distance, reminding me that everything should be All for Jesus, not for myself.

Evening Prayer

Dear Jesus,

Teach me to take the lower place with joy, and to be kind to those who cannot give anything back. Help me remember that You see what others do not, and that one day You will lift up the humble.

Amen.

Love,

Kathy

One Little Egg

Dear Diary,

This morning before Mass I carried one special brown egg in my basket. I had a feeling it might be a double-yolk, because it was larger and heavier than the others. I gave it to Father LeRoy at the sacristy door. He smiled kindly and said, “Thank you, Kathy. Even a small gift, when given with love, is a talent in God’s eyes.”

The Gospel was about the servants who were each given talents. Some worked hard and brought back more, but one hid his away and had nothing to show. Jesus said God wants us to use what He gives us, not keep it buried.

After Mass, when the church grew quiet again, Sister Mary Claire and I knelt in our pew for a while. Mini curled up on the floor beside me, her little head resting on my shoes as if she, too, was praying in her own way. Sister whispered, “Kathy, your egg was like one of those talents. The servant who hid his gift in the ground had nothing to give back, but you chose to share yours. That is what pleases Jesus—it doesn’t matter how small, but that it is given with love.” I nodded, holding her hand, and thought how glad I was that I hadn’t kept the egg at home.

When we finally stepped outside, the ground was damp and the air smelled fresh after the rain. Mini shook herself and wagged her bottom before trotting ahead with happy steps. Off in the distance, the church water tower rose high with its bright white letters—All for Jesus. Against the gray sky it seemed to say, “Don’t hide what you can give. Show it boldly.”

As we walked home, I promised myself that I don’t ever want to bury my gifts. I want to give them to Him, no matter how small.

Evening Prayer

Dear Jesus,

Thank You for the little gifts You’ve given me. Help me to share them with love, just like I shared the egg with Father today. May I use everything for You, so that one day I may hear You say, “Well done, my good and faithful servant.”

Amen.

Love,  Kathy

Running Through the Rain

 
Dear Diary

This morning Robert pulled up to our mailbox in his old pickup to take Sister, Mini, and me to Holy Mass. It was pitch black outside, and the rain was coming down steady, drumming on the truck roof as we rattled down the gravel road. Mini sat between us, warm and content, while the windshield wipers slapped back and forth against the storm.

As we neared the church, the water tower loomed above, shrouded in darkness. Yet its white letters could still be seen through the rain: All for Jesus. Sister whispered that it felt like a lighthouse guiding us safely on our way.

When Robert stopped in the churchyard, the lamps cast small, dim circles of light, but all else was wrapped in night. We jumped down from the pickup, pulled our shawls tight, and ran quickly up the steps, splashing through puddles and hurrying into the church out of the rain. Inside, the scent of wet coats and wood smoke greeted us, and I was glad to kneel in the stillness.

At Mass, Father LeRoy read the Gospel about the death of St. John the Baptist. My heart grew heavy hearing how Herod imprisoned him for speaking the truth, and how Herodias’ anger brought about his beheading. Father told us John is an example of true courage, standing for what is right no matter the cost. He said the world does not always welcome truth, but we must still cling to it—just as John did, and just as Jesus did when He gave His life for us.

When Mass ended, Robert drove us back to the mailbox. The rain still fell hard, so Sister and I walked quickly, with Mini bounding happily at our heels, splashing water every which way. Her cheer made us laugh, even after such a solemn Gospel.

Evening Prayer

Dear Jesus, thank You for the brave witness of St. John the Baptist. Help me to be strong in truth and faithful to You always. Wash my heart clean like the rain, and keep Sister, Robert, Mini, and me safe and close to You.

Amen.




Love,

Kathy

The Red Water Tower

Dear Diary,

This morning when Sister Mary Claire and I walked with Mini to Church, the first thing I noticed, even before the white steeple came into view, was the water tower. It’s been freshly painted red, and in white letters it says All for Jesus. You can see it from way down the gravel road, almost like it’s watching over the whole countryside. Mini spotted it too, I think, because she stopped and tilted her head like it was something new to bark at.

At Mass, Father LeRoy read the Gospel about being ready because we do not know when Jesus will come. He said it’s like when the farmer doesn’t know the exact hour the storm will break but still makes sure his animals are in the barn ahead of time. That’s how we are to live—always ready, always faithful, not just some of the time.

On our walk home, Sister Mary Claire explained that the good servant in the Gospel kept caring for others even when it seemed like the master wasn’t near. She told me that means doing our chores, saying our prayers, and loving others every day—not just when someone is watching. I thought of the red tower with its words All for Jesus standing tall above the church. Maybe that’s what my heart should be like—painted bright with love for Him, so it can be seen from far away.

Mini wagged her bottom and ran circles around us when we reached the mailbox, like she was already celebrating being home.

Evening Prayer

Dear Jesus,

Please help me stay ready for You, not just when I expect You, but always. Let my heart be like the water tower, shining with the words All for Jesus. Bless Sister Mary Claire and Mini, and keep us faithful servants in Your household.

Amen.

Love, Kathy

Shining on the Inside

Dear Diary 

This morning at Holy Mass, Father LeRoy read from the Gospel of Matthew. Jesus spoke about the scribes and Pharisees being like whitewashed tombs. They looked clean and pretty on the outside, but inside they were full of bones and filth. That sounded so sad and frightening. Sister Mary Claire whispered to me later that Jesus was showing us that what’s in our hearts matters more than how we look to other people.

I thought of it on our walk home with Mini trotting ahead, sniffing the weeds along the gravel road. Sometimes I get so busy trying to look neat in my overalls or making sure my braids are just right that I forget that Jesus is really looking at my heart. He sees if I’m kind, or if I’m selfish and crabby inside. I don’t want to be like a pretty tomb that is empty and ugly inside—I want to be good all the way through.

When we reached the mailbox, Mini sat down like she was guarding it, and Sister said, “It is better to have a heart full of love than a face full of polish.” I tucked that saying away in my head like a little treasure.

Tonight as I write, I think of the prophets Jesus mentioned—the brave men who spoke God’s truth even when people didn’t want to hear it. I prayed that I can be brave too, even in little ways, like speaking kindly when I feel impatient or helping Sister without grumbling.

Evening Prayer:

Dear Jesus, please help me not to care so much about how I look on the outside, but to keep my heart pure and full of love for You. Wash me clean inside, so I may shine for You in all I do.

Love, Kathy

Cleansing the Inside First

Dear Diary

This morning at Holy Mass we heard from the Gospel of St. Matthew. Jesus told the scribes and Pharisees that they worried about little things, like giving a pinch of mint or dill, but they forgot the big things like mercy, faithfulness, and justice. Father LeRoy said it was like polishing the outside of a teacup while leaving the inside dirty. Jesus wants our hearts clean first, so that our words and actions come from love, not just from being seen.

On the way home, Sister Mary Claire explained it to me more gently. She said it’s easy to look nice on the outside, but what matters most is if our hearts are clean before God. I thought about it—sometimes I try to seem cheerful but I might be grumpy inside. Jesus wants both to match.

When we reached the mailbox, Mini pranced ahead with her ears perked up, as if she understood every word. Later this afternoon, we carried the little tent into the woods behind the house. Mini wagged her whole bottom while running circles around us, then finally plopped down on the canvas while Sister and I set it up. I’m so glad to have a tent close by, where I can pretend I’m far away on an adventure.

Tonight, when we camp out under the trees, I’ll remember the Gospel. I want my heart to be clean, like the inside of our little cups we’ll drink cocoa from, so that what’s outside shines too.

Evening Prayer:

Dear Jesus, help me to be clean inside, with kind thoughts and gentle words. Please bless Sister Mary Claire and keep Mini safe through the night. Amen.

Love, Kathy

Mini and the Butterfly

Dear Diary,

This morning at Holy Mass, Father LeRoy read from the Gospel where Jesus spoke so strongly against the scribes and Pharisees. He said, “Woe to you, scribes and Pharisees, you hypocrites!” and told them that they were keeping others out of heaven, even though they themselves weren’t going in. Jesus also called them blind guides because they cared more about the gold and gifts than the temple or the altar that made those things holy.

On the walk home, Sister Mary Claire helped me understand. She said Jesus wasn’t just angry, but sorrowful, because the leaders were supposed to bring people closer to God, not push them away. “It’s a warning for us too, Kathy,” she told me. “We must be careful not to look holy only on the outside, but to really love God in our hearts. God is greater than all gold and gifts, because He is the One who makes everything holy.”

Mini trotted happily beside us, her ears perked and her little bottom wiggling. A butterfly floated past, and she gave a wiggle as if she might chase it, but then she came right back to walk with me. I thought how simple Mini’s love is—she doesn’t pretend. She just loves me as I am. That’s the way God wants us to be with Him, not pretending like the Pharisees did.

When we reached the mailbox, I told Sister I wanted to remember this Gospel forever: not to treasure the shiny things, but the One who makes them holy. She gave me a smile and squeezed my shoulder.

Evening Prayer

Dear Jesus,

Help me to love You in truth, not just in words or in what others see. Keep me from being a blind guide. Teach me to follow You with my whole heart, and to see that all things are holy because You are in them. Bless Sister Mary Claire and little Mini too.

Love, Kathy

The Sunday Sermon

Dear Diary,

Today Bishop Barron said the reading from Hebrews is about God’s punishment. He told us it’s really in the Bible and we can’t pretend it isn’t. But he said we shouldn’t think of God as a mean tyrant. The passage helps us see that God’s punishment is not about being cruel, but it’s the way He shows His love and helps us grow.

Love, Kathy

The Narrow Gate

Dear Diary,

This morning at Mass, Father LeRoy read from the Gospel of Luke where Jesus told us to strive to enter through the narrow gate. On our walk home, the gravel crunched under our shoes, and Mini trotted happily beside us, her ears bouncing as she watched every bird and grasshopper.

I asked Sister Mary Claire what Jesus meant by a narrow gate. She said it is like when a farmer builds a fence around his pasture, leaving just a small gate so the animals have to come through one by one. She said Father explained that the narrow gate is choosing to follow Jesus every day, even when it’s hard, like being honest, forgiving quickly, or saying our prayers when we’d rather be lazy. She reminded me that Father said the wide, easy way often looks nicer, but it doesn’t lead to Heaven.

I thought of the path to our cave. It is narrow and hidden, and if you don’t look carefully, you’d miss it. Sister smiled when I said that, and she told me that Jesus asks us to look for His way, even when it’s not the easiest. She said one day people from every place—north, south, east, and west—will gather at the Lord’s table in Heaven, and it will be the happiest feast of all.

As we walked further down the lane toward home, Mini wagged her little bottom and ran ahead, but then came back to stay close to me, as if she didn’t want me to take the wrong path. I wondered if she was like a little guardian, keeping me close to the narrow way.

Evening Prayer:

Dear Jesus, please help me find Your narrow gate each day. Keep me from being lazy or careless with my soul. Let me be among the ones who come in and sit at Your table in Heaven. Amen.

Love, Kathy

“The Lesson of Humility”

Dear Diary,

This morning at St. Mary’s, Father LeRoy read the Gospel where Jesus told the crowds not to be like the Pharisees who said one thing but lived another way. They made themselves look important, but their hearts were not humble.

On our walk home, with Mini trotting happily at our side, Sister Mary Claire explained it so gently. She said, “Kathy, Jesus is teaching us that words mean little unless we live them out. The Pharisees liked to show off their prayers and be seen, but they forgot love and service. True greatness is found in being humble, like Jesus washing the feet of His disciples.”

I thought about how sometimes I like when people notice me—like when I sing loud in church or do my chores quickly so I’ll be praised. But Sister reminded me that God looks at the quiet things we do out of love, even if nobody sees them. She said that when I help carry wood for the stove, or share eggs with the Breakfast Club, I am serving Jesus Himself.

Mini seemed to understand too, for she wagged her whole little body when Sister said the word humble.

Tonight as I write, I want to remember that to be small in the world is to be big in Heaven.

Evening Prayer

Dear Jesus,
Teach me to be little,
to serve with a quiet heart,
and not to look for praise.
Help me to carry others’ burdens
with a cheerful spirit,
and to remember that You are my one true Teacher.
Keep me close tonight, and bless Sister Mary Claire and little Mini.

Amen.

Love,
Kathy

• “The Greatest Commandment”

Dear Diary,

This morning was so lovely, just 67 degrees, with the air carrying that near-fall crispness. Mini trotted happily beside us, her little nose twitching at every leaf that skittered across the gravel road. She seemed to enjoy the cool morning as much as we did.

At Mass, Father LeRoy read the Gospel about the greatest commandment. When the Pharisees tried to test Jesus, He told them that the first commandment is to love God with all our heart, soul, and mind. Then He said the second is like it: to love our neighbor as ourselves. Father LeRoy explained it so simply—he said if we truly love God with everything in us, then love will spill out into how we treat others. He told us that the whole law and all the prophets are really just pointing us back to love.

On the way home, Sister Mary Claire added that loving God first helps us love everyone else more easily. I thought about how true that is as the sun warmed the road ahead.

Mini raced ahead and then circled back, her ears straight out in the breeze, as if she were telling us she loved us too. The road felt bright with sunshine and quiet with only the sound of our shoes on the gravel.

Dear Jesus,

Help me to love You with all my heart, soul, and mind, and to love others the way You ask me to. Thank You for Father LeRoy’s words today, and for Sister Mary Claire reminding me that love begins with You. Bless our little home and keep Mini safe tonight.

Love,

Kathy

Invited to The Feast

Dear Diary,

This morning we went to St. Mary’s for Holy Mass. The air was crisp, and the gravel crunched under our shoes as we walked. Mini was full of spirit and stayed alert as ever. At the church door she paused to greet a little old lady with a cane, wagging kindly as the woman bent slowly to pat her head. Everyone seemed glad to see her.

The Gospel today was about the wedding feast. Jesus told how a king invited many people to the wedding of his son, but some ignored him and others even mistreated his servants. So the king invited everyone else, the poor and the strangers, until the hall was filled. But one man came without the proper wedding garment and was cast out.

Father LeRoy explained that the feast is like heaven, and the king is God the Father. The first guests, who turned away, were those who did not care about God’s call. But God’s love is so big that He invites everyone, even those who seem unworthy, to come to His table. Still, Father said, we must be clothed in the garment of grace—meaning we must live with hearts ready for God. It isn’t enough just to be invited; we must prepare ourselves by following Jesus, living kindly, and staying close to Him.

On the walk home, Sister Mary Claire reminded me that each day is a chance to say “yes” to God’s invitation, even in little ways—like helping with chores cheerfully, saying my prayers faithfully, or showing kindness when I’d rather not. She said those little “yeses” are what keep our garment white and ready for the feast.

Now the house is quiet, and Mini is resting after her greetings this morning. I will try to remember that God is always inviting me, and I don’t want to turn away.

Evening Prayer

Dear Jesus, thank You for inviting me to Your feast. Help me keep my heart ready and my life clean and loving, so that I may never be found without my wedding garment. Let me always say “yes” to You in the small things, and may Your joy fill my soul.

Amen.

Love, Kathy

“The Generous Vineyard of God”

Dear Diary,

This morning at Holy Mass, I tucked my little notebook into my pocket and sat with Sister Mary Claire and Mini, who curled up beneath our pew. The Gospel was about the workers in the vineyard, and I wanted to remember everything Father LeRoy said.

He explained that the landowner is God, and the vineyard is heaven. The workers who came early in the day are those who have followed Him their whole lives, and the workers who came at the very end are those who found Him only later. God, in His goodness, gives the same reward—eternal life—to everyone who comes to Him, no matter when.

I wrote down Father’s words: “God’s generosity is greater than our way of measuring what is fair. In heaven, we are not paid by the hour but by His love.” That made me stop and think—sometimes I compare myself to others and feel left out, but God never forgets me. He is as generous to me as He is to the saints.

Sister whispered to me afterward that heaven will be full of surprises. Some who arrive at the last moment will shine with joy just the same as those who have labored all their lives. And I thought of how good it is that God’s heart is so big.

When we walked home, Mini trotted along happily, carrying a leaf in her mouth as if it were a prize. I held my notebook close, thankful I had written down what Father said so I can read it again whenever I forget.

Evening Prayer

Dear Jesus,

Thank You for teaching me that Your love is not small or stingy but wide and generous for everyone. Help me not to be envious but to rejoice when others are blessed. May I always be ready to enter Your vineyard with gladness, whether early or late.

Stay with me tonight and keep Sister, Mini, and me close to You.

Love,
Kathy

“The Narrow Gate and a Quiet Walk Home”

 
Dear Diary,

This morning at Holy Mass, I sat with Sister Mary Claire in our usual spot near the front, and Mini curled up under the pew between us. She didn’t stir once—except for when the kneeler dropped with a thud behind us. She’s used to everything now, like she belongs.

Father LeRoy read the Gospel where Jesus says it’s easier for a camel to pass through the eye of a needle than for a rich man to enter heaven. Everyone seemed to sit up when they heard that. Father explained that being rich isn’t a sin, but it can make it harder to let go of things and follow Jesus. He said some believe the “eye of the needle” was a tiny city gate where a camel had to unload everything and kneel to pass through. Just like us—we have to set aside anything that gets between us and God.

When Peter asked what the apostles would get for giving everything up, Jesus promised them thrones, and that anyone who gave up family or land for His sake would receive a hundredfold and eternal life. Father said we might not have to give up everything, but we must be willing to let go of anything that keeps us from loving Jesus first.

On the way home, I told Sister I wasn’t sure what I was still holding onto. She said even small things—like a sharp word or wanting to be first—can weigh us down. I looked at Mini, trotting ahead with her little ears out like wings. She never fusses about being first—she just stays close.



Daily Prayer,

Jesus, I begin and end this day with You in my heart.
Let me feel Your gentle and loving spirit around me.
Help me follow You and stay close.

Mary, kind and motherly, guide my thoughts back to Jesus.
Teach me to keep prayer and devotion always in my life.
May my heart grow to be like Yours and His—

full of love and peace.

The Source

Letting Go to Follow Jesus

Dear Diary,

This morning at Mass, Father LeRoy read the Gospel where a young man asked Jesus what he must do to have eternal life. Jesus told him to keep the commandments. The young man said he had already done that, but he wanted to know what more he needed. Then Jesus said something so hard—it almost made me hold my breath. He told him to sell all that he had, give it to the poor, and then come and follow Him. The young man walked away sad, because he had too many things he didn’t want to let go of.

On the way home, Sister Mary Claire explained it in her soft way. She said Jesus wasn’t being mean, but loving—showing the young man that to be close to Him, he had to be free of what tied him down. Sister told me that sometimes even little things—like clinging to my own way—can keep me from following Jesus more fully.

Mini trotted ahead, wagging her bottom like she was leading us, free as could be. Sister pointed and smiled, saying, “See, Kathy, Mini carries nothing but joy, and so she can run happily after us.”

I wonder if I could let go like that. Maybe not give away riches, since I have none, but give Jesus my stubbornness or my fears. Then I too could follow Him more freely.

Monday's Gospel Reading

 

“The Fire of Jesus’ Love”

Dear Diary,

At Holy Mass this morning, Father LeRoy read from the Gospel of St. Luke where Jesus said He had come to set the earth on fire. Sister Mary Claire explained to me on the way home that Our Lord’s words were not about peace the way the world thinks of peace, but about the fire of God’s love and truth that can sometimes cause division when hearts choose differently. It made me think how even in families there can be disagreements about faith, but Jesus wants us to stay close to Him no matter what.

Mini trotted beside us, her little paws kicking up gravel, and at one point she ran ahead chasing a drifting leaf as if it were alive. She always makes us laugh, and I like to think she keeps our walk bright even after hearing such serious words.

Tonight, as the fire in the stove crackled, Sister and I listened to Bishop Barron’s Sunday Sermon. His voice seemed to carry right into the quiet of our little room. He reminded us that the fire Jesus spoke of is the Holy Spirit, burning away sin and warming our hearts with courage to follow Him. I felt so peaceful listening, with Mini curled up by my feet.

Evening Prayer

Dear Jesus, thank You for setting my heart on fire with Your love. Keep me brave when it feels easier to stay quiet or comfortable. Help me bring Your light into my family and into the world, even if it means standing alone. Watch over Sister, Mini, and me tonight. May Your Spirit blaze in us always.

Love,

Kathy

His Creatures Running Free

 

Dear Diary,

This morning we went to Holy Mass at St. Mary’s. Father LeRoy read from the Gospel of Matthew where Jesus said, “Let the children come to me, and do not prevent them; for the Kingdom of heaven belongs to such as these.” Father explained that Jesus was showing everyone how dear children are to Him, and how our simple hearts are exactly what He loves. He said that sometimes adults make things too hard, but Jesus wants us to come with trust—like a child who runs to a parent’s arms without fear.

I thought about that as we walked home down the gravel road. Sister Mary Claire spoke softly, reminding me that when Jesus blesses children, it is not only for those in the story but for all of us, too. She said we can carry His blessing every day if we stay close to Him, like children who hold their Father’s hand.

Just then, Mini darted off like a streak of lightning, her little bottom wagging as she chased the biggest jack rabbit I’ve ever seen. It bounded across the field with long leaps, and though Mini tried her best, she soon gave up and came back, panting but proud. Sister and I laughed, and I thought maybe Jesus loves that joy too—the joy of His creatures running free.

Now the day is ending, and my heart feels light with the thought that Jesus calls me His own.

Evening Prayer

Dear Jesus, thank You for blessing children and for calling me close to You. Help me to keep a heart that trusts, even when I grow older. Let me always run to You with joy, as Mini ran today across the field. Stay near us tonight, and bless Sister, Father LeRoy, and all the little ones who belong to You.

Our Father, who art in heaven…

Love,

Kathy

Father LeRoy's Homily on the Feast of The Assumption of Mary

In the system of Christianity, in the story of the Church, in the hearts of the faithful, in the glory of heaven, the Virgin Mother for ever has her place beside her Divine Son, and the name of Mary lives upon the lips of those who call upon the name of Jesus. Mother and Son—bound together by the tenderest ties that can unite two human hearts—who would dare to separate them? And if any have striven so to separate them, if any have dishonoured the Virgin Mother while pretending to invoke her Divine Son, let hearts like yours, that love them both, protest against the sacrilege, as an outrage as well against the holiest feelings of human nature as against the infallible teaching of the Church of God. When in the fulness of time God visited his people, He came to them in the womb of Mary. He was carried an infant in her arms, grew into youth and into manhood under the fostering influence of her motherhood. As a public teacher and as a worker of miracles, though His life seemed to separate from hers, Mary had in Him ever the largest part. None ever knew, none ever can know, as she knew, the inmost history of that sacred heart—for others, at best, were but His friends. Mary, only, was His Mother. And as it was in life, so also was it in death. She shared the bitterness of His Passion, and had her part in the bitterness of the last great agony; and when her Son’s heart burst upon Calvary, the sword that had hung over her life from the day of Simeon’s prophecy went keen and sharp through hers. She saw Him lying dead—her tears fell thick and fast upon his dead, white face, and were paid back by the latest look of love, when the clouds of Olivet bore Him into heaven. In prophecy and in fulfilment her place has always been beside our Divine Lord. Down through all the centuries the vision dawns, and grows, and brightens, of the Woman shining to the cloud which man’s first sin had flung like a pall of death upon the fresh beauty of the newly-made world. The voice of God sent thrilling through the sad music of humanity the one glad note of hope—“One shall be born of the Woman who shall crush thy head.” The vision grew into clearer form, into brighter beauty, when the veil that lies upon all things to come was lifted by the hand of God before the gaze of His great prophet; and Isaiah, shouted down to the mountain tops of vision, his exultant message—“A virgin shall conceive, and she shall bear a son.” The vision brightened into the perfect beauty that shall never fade, when in from the lips of her who was “full of grace” came forth the humble words—“Behold the handmaid of the Lord; be it done to me according to Thy word.” Then “the Word was made flesh, and dwelt amongst us,” blending together in a union that neither time shall weaken nor eternity have power to break, the music of the two sweet names of Jesus and of Mary—binding these two together by so unseverable a tie, that from that hour to this no one can hope to know and honour Jesus without at the same time knowing and honouring Mary His mother. And this, when all is said, is, for the followers of Jesus, the one sufficient reason for devotion to Mary, that it is from her, from her Sacred Heart, we best can know what it behoves us above all other things to learn—the Sacred Heart of Jesus. Out of the thirty-three years that our Blessed Lord spent on earth, the Evangelists have entered into anything like detail only with regard to three. These three were the years of public ministry—years full of wonder, full of teaching, and, above all things, full of example, especially for those whose call it is to minister to the public necessities of mankind. But if we only consider it, it is precisely in the quiet years that glided by in the obscurity of Nazareth, that the great majority of men should seek a lesson. In its lowliness, in its obscurity, in its poverty, it was like what the vast multitude of human homes must always be. The people in every country and in every time lead lives just like your own—quiet, uneventful lives, brightened by ordinary joys that even in this sad world are the natural birthright of hearts that know the meaning of friendship and of affection—lives chequered by the ordinary sorrows that cluster round every home; and it is not so much in the duties of public office, as in the kindly charities and the unobtrusive virtues that flourish best at home, that the vast majority of men need special lessons. And, oh! how well, how eloquently, with what sublime simplicity such a lesson would be given, could we but lift the veil, which the silence of four evangelists, has flung upon the homely life of Nazareth. We can only dream, and picture, and faintly imagine the awful simplicity of life within that holy house. Angels have not dared to whisper—never can it be written in human words—the pens of evangelists have failed before the task of telling in detail how Jesus grew in wisdom and in age, and in grace with God and men. And yet, my brethren, it has been written, and written for our instruction, in the only volume that was worthy of such a record: it was written upon the Immaculate Heart of Mary. “His mother,” says the Evangelist, when he was about to leave unwritten the story of the life at Nazareth, “His mother,” he adds, as if to show where the deficiency might be supplied, “His mother kept all these words in her heart.”

Do you think now that anyone who wishes to know the Sacred Heart of Jesus can afford to dispense with a careful and loving study of the Sacred Heart of Mary?

It is precisely on this account, that the Church is solicitous to follow in detail the life of Mary, just out the mysteries of her life, and her virtues, and her privileges—instituting festivals for each, that the people may never cease, the whole year round, hearing about the mother they so deeply love. And there is no festival connected with the Blessed Virgin, so full of perfect joy as the festival we are celebrating to-day. We have seen, while celebrating her other festivals, what, during her life was that “better part” which Mary chose. We have seen that it was a part which the world would despise, because it was a part most opposed to what the world itself is seeking. The world counts that life happy which has in it these three things—Notoriety, Wealth, Comfort. To be spoken of by men—to live upon men’s lips, and then to have riches, and the influence that riches give—and finally to use our fame and wealth so wisely as to secure all earthly peace, to let nothing disturb the even tenor of a life of comfort or even of luxury—this is the part that the world prizes, and which the world would choose if it only had a choice—nay, and when I speak of the world, perhaps there are some even among yourselves who think, sometimes, at any rate, that in such choice, and in such seeking, the world is wise. Some of you may have felt the keen desire to be well spoken of in your own circle—felt that appetite for wealth that grows with the amassing of it—felt that it were well to surround your life with every comfort your hands can snatch from precarious circumstance. Have you ever had any thoughts like these? Well, if you have had, it is well you should remember to-day, and lay it well to heart, that the better part which Mary chose, and the choosing of which placed her upon her throne as Queen of Heaven, was a part not only different from this, but diametrically opposite to this. Mary’s life from beginning to end—what was it? Well, it was a life of obscurity. Her youth was buried in the silence of the temple. No one noticed her but God; her name never passed the threshold of the temple gate. Then she passed to even greater obscurity—the obscurity of a poverty-stricken home. Even in the Gospel, she is never mentioned, except upon the strictest necessity. The Evangelists—who knew about her so much that men now would give half their other knowledge to know—the Evangelists respected her love of obscurity, and keep her very name, as much as possible, out of the public record of the life of Jesus. We catch just a glimpse of her here and there, and she shrinks back into the obscurity in which her heart delighted. Then, again, her part was a part of poverty—such poverty as is known in the homes of the toiling poor, poverty that never lifts its hand, that never relaxes its pressure, that leaves its mark on the toil-hardened hands, and on the face grown old before its time: this poverty Mary knew and loved—nay, not Mary only, but Jesus. He earned His bread by the labour of His hands, making yokes for oxen, and rude implements of rustic toil. Mary was poor to the very end: after Calvary she had not, what even the poorest cling to—a home of her own. She lived in the house of that favoured disciple to whom Christ in his agony said, “Son, behold thy mother.” And, finally, Mary’s part was a part of mortification. What comfort was ever in her life? Even those quiet years when she had Jesus to herself in Nazareth—even then her comfort was broken by the prophetic knowledge of the awful agony that was to end His life. Could she ever have kissed the forehead of her Child without thinking of the crown of thorns? When the hands were busy at their daily work she saw in them the bleeding print of the rough nail. Over all its life, in its simplicity, in its holiness, in its security, might have been so happy—over all that life there fell for Mary, the shadow of the cross. And then Jesus left her, and her heart began to be broken. She had parted with Him, had given Him up to the vengeance of sin. He was never to be hers again, until for a brief space He would lie dead upon her knees. Comfort! Who would dare to speak of comfort to a mother so afflicted. This, my brethren, you should remember—even though you remembered nothing else of the day’s sermon—that it is an inviolable rule of the Gospel by which you hope for life, that mortification and suffering, and patient bearing of the evils that come to every life, that these are the way, and the only way to Heaven. Whom God wants to save, to that soul He sends suffering. Do you want a proof? Whom of all others did God love best? Of course you answer, His Son, Jesus. And yet, Jesus will be known to the end of time as the “Man of Sorrows.” And whom, next to Jesus, did God love best? Again you answer, Mary, His mother—that mother whom you have seen and known to be so afflicted—that mother whose heart was pierced by a sword of sevenfold sorrow. This is the law—absolute, inviolable—admitting no exception, “If anyone wishes to come after Me, let him deny himself, take up his cross daily, and follow Me.”

And now, having seen one side, the earthly side, of the better part which Mary chose, let us turn to the other side—the side upon which falls the glory and the light of heaven.

This is the feast of that heavenly side of Mary’s blessed choice. To-day we see her no longer on earth, but on her throne in heaven. To-day there are no tears upon her face, no anguish on her brow; death has come and given peace; the eyes have closed to all earthly sorrow, and opened to the Divine Vision into whose Holy Presence no sorrow can ever come. She dies. She is judged. Oh, blessed judgment! Her pure soul is reunited to her immaculate body. The tide of life flows back upon its deserted shore. Mary lives again, and lives for ever. Borne by hosts of angels, but borne far more surely by her burning eagerness, Mary ascends to heaven. Lift up your gates, ye princes of heaven, lift up your gates, your Queen has come. Even the sweet-voiced cherubim were mute, even the keen-eyed seraphim veiled their eyes before the meeting in heaven, of the Mother and her Son. Above angel and archangel, above powers and principalities, above cherubim and seraphim, above the awful spirits who minister at the very throne of God, Mary is lifted to her place. Her throne is next the throne of Jesus: upon her brow He places a crown, and by the acclamation of heaven she is proclaimed for ever Queen of Angels, Queen of Saints, Queen and Mother of Men.

And now, my brethren, having witnessed this great pageant of heaven, it is well we should remember that it is meant to be no mere empty spectacle to amuse the fancy or to gratify the eye—it is meant to have its place amongst the chief instruments of our destiny, amongst the means of salvation. Mary is seated on her throne that she may be, to the end of time, the object of Catholic devotion; and every Catholic knows how large a part of the religion he professes is made up of devotion to the Mother of God. I think it well, therefore, before I end, to renew within you the knowledge which you doubtless have, of the nature of that devotion, and expound for you, in brief but sufficient words, how eminently reasonable is the devotion which we Catholics are proud to pay to Mary our Mother.

The devotion of the Church to the Blessed Virgin may be said to consist of two parts. First, we honour Mary, and secondly, we have recourse to her intercession. Hence, in order to prove the reasonableness of this devotion it is only necessary to prove—first, that Mary is worthy of honour, and secondly, that she has the power and the inclination to help us. Is Mary worthy of honour? Well, if anyone ever asks you the question let your answer be—Surely Mary is worthy of all the honour given her by God Himself. He is the infallible Judge of all worthiness; and there is no honour which men can pay to the Blessed Virgin Mary, equal to the honour which God bestowed upon her, when He elevated her to the dignity of being mother to His Son. Mary is Mother of God. What honour—provided it be less than the honour due to God alone—can be too great to lavish upon her whom, out of all creatures actual and possible, Jesus elected as His mother. But, in the second place, from this motherhood comes not only dignity but power.

Throned Queen of Heaven, seated at the right hand of her Son and her God, what shall Mary ask and not obtain? What prayer of hers can fall unheeded upon the ear of Jesus? What prayerful look shall fail to touch that Sacred Heart that first was formed of her purest blood. But if Mary be worthy of honour—if from her dignity as Mother of God comes her power to hear us and to help—it only remains to ask if, being able, Mary is also willing to assist us? Behold the answer. Mary is our mother! Even in our fallen nature, branded as it is with the degradation which sin has brought upon it, there are still some feelings which seem beyond the reach of corruption, and chief of these is mother’s love. It is unselfish and everlasting, patient and ineffaceable; it never tires, never gives up; time cannot weaken it; ingratitude itself cannot kill it. Even in this cold world the mother will not forget the son whom she has borne. Unlovely he may be to others, but they do not see him with a mother’s eye. He may have drifted far from the innocence of childhood, he may be stained with many a crime, his hand may be against the world, and the world’s hand against him, but still, while his mother lives, he holds one fast, one firm friend. The world may frown on him, but her eyes light up with welcome when he comes. The heart that cherished him in his days of innocence, when he was a child, cannot forget him even in his days of crime, when he is grown into a sin-stained man. Sorrowing, but with a patience like the patience of heaven, her head, her house, her heart, are open to the world-worn prodigal. He may have placed the early wrinkle on her brow, and sown the silver streak upon her hair; he may have planted thorns in her pillow, and made her heart ache with very anguish for his follies and his crimes, still she remembers only that she is his mother. When all her schemes have failed, when his sins—as sins always do—have found him out and dragged him down, when the hand of sorrow has bowed him to the dust, his mother’s hand is there to soothe, his mother’s heart is there to sympathize, his mother’s love is there to pour balm into the wounds that sin and sorrow have inflicted on his soul. And Mary is your mother. You have it on the word of the dying Saviour—“Behold thy mother.” And what a mother! Earthly mother may forget her son, and remember no more the child whom she has borne, but Mary can no more forget her children than she can forget Him Who committed them to her tender motherhood.

Mary's Assumption into Heaven

August 15

Dear Diary

This morning at Mass, Father LeRoy talked about Our Blessed Mother, Mary, and I just can’t stop thinking about it. He said that in all of heaven and earth, Mary will always be right beside Jesus. You can’t really think of one without the other—He’s the Son, and she’s His Mother, and no one could ever separate them. When God came to us, He came through Mary’s womb. She held Him as a baby, cared for Him as a boy, and stayed close to Him as He grew into a man.

Mary knew Him better than anyone else—she even shared His sufferings. On Calvary, when Jesus died, it was like a sword pierced her own heart, just like Simeon had said when she first brought baby Jesus to the Temple. And yet, she never left Him.

Father reminded us that Mary didn’t live a life the world would call “important.” She didn’t chase fame, riches, or comfort. She lived quietly and simply in Nazareth, in a little home with ordinary work and everyday joys, just like most families. She knew the ache of poverty and the sting of sorrow, but she accepted it all. Even when Jesus was still small, she knew one day He’d suffer terribly, and that shadow never left her heart.

And oh, her love! Father said that a mother’s love never gives up. Even if her child wanders far, even if the world turns against him, her eyes light up when he comes home. She remembers the little boy he once was, and she opens her heart to him again. That’s how Mary loves us. She is our Mother, and she will never forget us, because Jesus Himself gave us to her when He said from the cross, “Behold thy mother.”

Today we celebrate the Assumption—Mary’s day of joy. No more tears, no more suffering—she’s crowned Queen of Heaven and Mother of us all. Father said we should never be afraid to ask her for help, because she’s both willing and able to hear us and bring our prayers to Jesus.

I think about it like this—if even my own little heart can love Mini so much and want to take care of her always, how much more must Mary love us with her great, heavenly heart?

Love,

Kathy

Forgiving From the Heart

Dear Diary,

This morning at St. Mary’s, Father LeRoy read from the Gospel where Peter asked Jesus how many times he should forgive someone—“As many as seven times?” Peter wondered. But Jesus said, “Not seven times, but seventy-seven times.”

Father said that Jesus didn’t mean we should keep a tally in our heads, but that forgiveness should be as endless as God’s mercy toward us. He told the story from the reading about the king who forgave his servant’s great debt, but that servant turned around and refused to forgive another man’s small debt. Father said that when we are forgiven, we must also forgive, truly from the heart, not just in words.

I thought about that as I sat beside Sister Mary Claire, with Mini curled right at our feet, her little head resting on my shoe. I thought about people I’ve been cross with and how sometimes I hold on to it longer than I should. Maybe forgiving means letting go so much that the hurt doesn’t sit in your heart anymore.

The church was so still except for the creak of the pews and the sound of Father’s voice. Sister looked over at me and smiled in that way that says she knows I’m thinking deeply. When we walked home, the wind carried the smell of fresh-cut hay, and Mini trotted happily between us.

Dear Jesus,

Thank You for showing me how much I have been forgiven.
Help me forgive others quickly and from my heart, so there’s no room left for bitterness to grow.

Make my heart gentle like Yours, and my words kind like Your own.

Bless Sister Mary Claire, Father LeRoy, and little Mini asleep at my side.

Amen.

Love,

Kathy

Where Two or Three are Gathered

Dear Diary,

This morning at St. Mary’s, Mini curled up quietly under the pew by my feet, her little bottom tucked in close like she knew we were in a holy place. Sister Mary Claire was next to me, and I tried to keep my mind still so I could really listen to Father LeRoy.

The Gospel reading was from Matthew, and it was about what to do if someone hurts you or does something wrong. Father said Jesus was teaching that the first thing to do is to speak to the person alone, not to talk about them behind their back or get angry in silence. “You go to them in love,” Father said, “because the goal is not to win an argument, but to win back a brother or sister.”

If that doesn’t work, you bring along one or two others who love the truth, to help make peace. And if that still doesn’t work, you tell the Church so everyone can pray and guide them. Father said that Jesus’ words about binding and loosing meant that the Church has real authority from Heaven to forgive sins and to guide us.

The part that stayed with me most was when Father read, “For where two or three are gathered together in my name, there am I in the midst of them.” I thought about how many times it’s just Sister, me, and Mini praying together in the cave, and how Jesus is right there with us.

After Mass, Sister whispered that forgiveness is like mending a tear in a favorite dress—you fix it before it gets worse. I think Jesus must feel the same way about our hearts.

Evening Prayer

Dear Jesus,

Thank You for being near when we gather in Your name.
Help me to forgive quickly,
to speak kindly,
and to keep peace in my heart.
Stay with Sister, Mini, and me always, and mend any tears in my heart before they grow.

Amen.

Love,
Kathy

The Greatest in The Kingdom

Dear Diary,

This morning the church felt bright and still. Sister Mary Claire was the reader today, and her voice was so steady and clear that I could hear every word without missing a thing. Mini stayed under the pew beside me, resting her chin on her paws, only moving when I reached down to give her a little pat.

Father LeRoy’s homily was about how Jesus wants us to be humble like children—not proud or thinking we know everything. He said that being “the greatest” in God’s Kingdom isn’t about being important to others, but about trusting and loving God the way a child trusts and loves their parents. He told us that the angels of children are always looking upon the face of God, which means each of us is precious to Him.

When Father spoke of the lost sheep, he said it was like when someone wanders away from God—He doesn’t just let them go. He looks for them until they are found, and then rejoices, just as a shepherd would with a lost lamb. I thought of Mini and how I would search everywhere for her if she ever went missing. That’s how God feels about us, only even more.

On the walk home, Sister Mary Claire said that maybe that’s why Jesus wants us to stay “little” in our hearts—so we don’t forget to trust Him, follow His voice, and be glad to be found if we wander. I liked that very much.

Evening Prayer

Dear Jesus,
Keep my heart little and trusting,
so I may always follow You.
Help me to see others as precious to You, and to be glad when one is found.
Thank You for loving me enough to search for me, no matter where I may stray.

Love,

Kathyx

“A Coin in a Fish’s Mouth”

Dear Diary

This morning, Sister Mary Claire and I walked to St. Mary’s for Holy Mass. Mini trotted along beside us, her little bottom wiggling in the cool breeze. The Gospel reading today was about how Jesus told His friends He would be handed over and killed, but would rise on the third day. My heart felt heavy, just like the disciples must have felt. I can’t imagine hearing something so sad and then still having to walk on as if it were just an ordinary day.

Then Father LeRoy explained the part about the temple tax. Jesus asked Peter who kings collect taxes from—foreigners or their own people. When Peter said “foreigners,” Jesus agreed that His followers were free from such taxes, but that He would pay anyway so no one would be offended. Father said it showed Jesus’ humility—how even though He is the Son of God, He still set an example of peace and cooperation.

I liked the part where Peter caught the fish and found the coin inside. Father smiled and said God provides for what He asks of us, even in the strangest ways. That made me think about how sometimes the answer to our prayers might come in ways we don’t expect—like a coin in a fish’s mouth!

When we got home, Mini ran ahead to the coop, and Omelette was waiting for her breakfast. Sister made us tea, and we sat quietly for a while, letting Father’s words sink in.

Evening Prayer:

Dear Jesus, thank You for the lessons You teach me each day. Help me to be humble and willing to give, just as You gave everything for me. I trust You to provide for what I need, in Your own perfect way. Amen.

Love,

Kathy

Faith is Like a Rooted Tree

Dear Diary,

This morning at Mass, Father LeRoy’s homily was all about faith. He said faith is like planting a seed deep in the soil and trusting that God will make it grow, even when we can’t see what’s happening under the ground. He told us that sometimes storms will come, and the wind will bend the branches, but if our roots are deep in God, we won’t fall. I liked that picture in my mind—like one of the big oaks at the edge of the pasture.

After chores, Mini and I walked down to the cave, and sure enough, Shaggycoat was in the shallows near the bank, paddling around like he had the whole creek to himself. Mini wagged her little bottom, but she stayed still, watching him the way she does when she’s curious. We sat by the grotto, and I thought about what Father said. I decided that my faith is a bit like this cave—it feels safe, cool, and solid, even when the world outside changes.

When we came back, Sister was waiting with what she’d promised—fresh strawberries from the garden and a jar of heavy cream from Kalona Dairy. We sat at the table and poured cream over the berries until they looked like little red boats in white water. I think maybe God gives us moments like that so our faith stays sweet as well as strong.

Evening Prayer

Dear Jesus,

Please help my faith grow deep like the roots of a strong tree.
Let it hold fast when storms come,
and let it bear fruit as sweet as strawberries in summer.

Amen.

Love,

Kathy

Sunday Sermon on Faith by Bishop Robert Barron

Friends, on this Nineteenth Sunday of Ordinary Time, our second reading from the Letter to the Hebrews offers us a great biblical description of faith. I stand with Paul Tillich, the Protestant theologian, who said that faith is the most misunderstood word in the religious vocabulary. Critics of religious say that faith is accepting things on the basis of no evidence; it’s believing any old nonsense; it’s naïveté; it’s superstition. But this has nothing to do with what the Bible means by faith.

Daily Readings

First Reading
WISDOM 18:6-9

That night was made known beforehand to our ancestors,
so that they might rejoice in sure knowledge of the oaths in which they trusted.
The deliverance of the righteous and the destruction of their enemies
were expected by your people.
For by the same means by which you punished our enemies
you called us to yourself and glorified us.
For in secret the holy children of good people offered sacrifices,
and with one accord agreed to the divine law,
so that the saints would share alike the same things,
both blessings and dangers; and already they were singing the praises of the ancestors.
Psalm
PSALM 33:1, 12, 18-19, 20-22

Rejoice in the Lord, O you righteous.
Praise befits the upright.
Happy is the nation whose God is the Lord,
the people whom he has chosen as his heritage.
Truly the eye of the Lord is on those who fear him,
on those who hope in his steadfast love,
to deliver their soul from death,
and to keep them alive in famine.
Our soul waits for the Lord;
he is our help and shield.
Our heart is glad in him,
because we trust in his holy name.
Let your steadfast love, O Lord, be upon us,
even as we hope in you.

Second Reading
HEBREWS 11:1-2, 8-19

Now faith is the assurance of things hoped for, the conviction of things not seen. Indeed, by faith our ancestors received approval.

By faith Abraham obeyed when he was called to set out for a place that he was to receive as an inheritance; and he set out, not knowing where he was going. By faith he stayed for a time in the land he had been promised, as in a foreign land, living in tents, as did Isaac and Jacob, who were heirs with him of the same promise. For he looked forward to the city that has foundations, whose architect and builder is God. By faith he received power of procreation, even though he was too old—and Sarah herself was barren—because he considered him faithful who had promised. Therefore from one person, and this one as good as dead, descendants were born, “as many as the stars of heaven and as the innumerable grains of sand by the seashore.”

All of these died in faith without having received the promises, but from a distance they saw and greeted them. They confessed that they were strangers and foreigners on the earth, for people who speak in this way make it clear that they are seeking a homeland. If they had been thinking of the land that they had left behind, they would have had opportunity to return. But as it is, they desire a better country, that is, a heavenly one. Therefore God is not ashamed to be called their God; indeed, he has prepared a city for them.

By faith Abraham, when put to the test, offered up Isaac. He who had received the promises was ready to offer up his only son, of whom he had been told, “It is through Isaac that descendants shall be named for you.” He considered the fact that God is able even to raise someone from the dead—and figuratively speaking, he did receive him back.

Gospel Reading
LUKE 12:32-48

“Do not be afraid, little flock, for it is your Father’s good pleasure to give you the kingdom. Sell your possessions, and give alms. Make purses for yourselves that do not wear out, an unfailing treasure in heaven, where no thief comes near and no moth destroys. For where your treasure is, there your heart will be also.

“Be dressed for action and have your lamps lit; be like those who are waiting for their master to return from the wedding banquet, so that they may open the door for him as soon as he comes and knocks. Blessed are those slaves whom the master finds alert when he comes; truly I tell you, he will fasten his belt and have them sit down to eat, and he will come and serve them. If he comes during the middle of the night, or near dawn, and finds them so, blessed are those slaves.

“But know this: if the owner of the house had known at what hour the thief was coming, he would not have let his house be broken into. You also must be ready, for the Son of Man is coming at an unexpected hour.”

Peter said, “Lord, are you telling this parable for us or for everyone?” And the Lord said, “Who then is the faithful and prudent manager whom his master will put in charge of his slaves, to give them their allowance of food at the proper time? Blessed is that slave whom his master will find at work when he arrives. Truly I tell you, he will put that one in charge of all his possessions. But if that slave says to himself, ‘My master is delayed in coming,’ and if he begins to beat the other slaves, men and women, and to eat and drink and get drunk, the master of that slave will come on a day when he does not expect him and at an hour that he does not know, and will cut him in pieces, and put him with the unfaithful. That slave who knew what his master wanted, but did not prepare himself or do what was wanted, will receive a severe beating. But the one who did not know and did what deserved a beating will receive a light beating. From everyone to whom much has been given, much will be required; and from the one to whom much has been entrusted, even more will be demanded.

Faith as Small as a Seed

Dear Diary,

This morning at St. Mary’s, the Gospel reading was from Matthew 17:14-20, where a man begged Jesus to heal his son. The disciples had tried but could not help him. Jesus told them it was because of their little faith. He said that if we have faith even as small as a mustard seed, we could tell a mountain to move and it would. Father LeRoy explained in his homily that Jesus wasn’t asking us to move real mountains, but to trust Him enough that the impossible things in our lives—our fears, our struggles—can be changed through prayer and faith.

After Mass, Tom offered us a ride in his old pickup to the Kalona Dairy. The sun was warm, and Mini sat in my lap with her head out the window, letting the breeze ripple her fur. Sister Mary Claire wanted fresh milk and whipping cream for the Dunlap strawberries ripening in her garden. At the dairy, the cool air smelled of sweet cream, and I imagined how the whipped topping would look piled high on the bright red berries.

Now the kitchen smells faintly of strawberries from where Sister sorted them for tomorrow’s dessert. I keep thinking about that mustard seed. It’s so small, yet it holds all the promise of what God can do when we trust Him.

Evening Prayer

Dear Jesus,

Help me to believe in You with all my heart,
even when my faith feels as small as a seed.
Teach me to trust Your power in every moment,
and to remember that nothing is impossible for You.

Amen.

Love,

Kathy

Evening Prayer

 

Grant Wood's Camp Littlemore

Dear Diary,

This morning at St. Mary’s, the Gospel reading was from Matthew 16:24-28, where Jesus told His disciples, “Whoever wishes to come after me must deny himself, take up his cross, and follow me.”

In his homily, Father LeRoy said that taking up our cross doesn’t always mean something big and dramatic—it can be in the small, everyday sacrifices we make out of love for God. He said every time we put someone else before ourselves, choose kindness over pride, or stay faithful when it’s hard, we are following Jesus on His road. Father reminded us that the reward is not something the world can give, but life forever with God.

After Mass, we came home and made lunch—peanut butter and strawberry jam with crisp lettuce from the garden tucked inside the sandwich. It sounds unusual, but the sweet and salty together with the crunch made me smile. Mini sat very still by my chair, watching every bite like it was the most important thing in the world.

Now it’s evening, and I’m thinking about how carrying my little “crosses” might be just holding my tongue, helping when I’d rather play, or being patient when I’m tired.

Evening Prayer

Dear Jesus,
Help me carry my cross today and every day,
whether it’s big or small.
Teach me to follow You with a willing heart,
and to remember that life with You
is worth more than anything in the world.

Amen.




Love,

Kathy

You are The Rock

 
Dear Diary,

Sister Mary Claire and I were up early today, just as the first light crept over the prairie. The tent flap stirred in the breeze, and a meadowlark was already singing from the tall grass nearby. Mini gave a big stretch and a tiny sneeze before trotting behind us as we walked up to the house to get ready for Church.

Sister put on her habit, and I wore my new pair of overalls. We didn’t talk much—just moved about quietly, like the day was too soft and holy to make a fuss. Then we set out on foot toward St. Mary’s with the sky wide and blue above us.

Father LeRoy read from the Gospel of Matthew, the part where Jesus asks, “Who do you say that I am?” And Peter answers, “You are the Christ, the Son of the living God.” I felt something bright inside me when I heard it—like the truth ringing out through time. Jesus gave Peter a new name and said He would build His Church upon that rock. That part made me sit up straighter in the pew.

But then Jesus told them He would suffer and be killed, and Peter couldn’t bear the thought. He said, “No, Lord, never!” And Jesus answered him with words that must have stung: “Get behind me, Satan.” Sister explained it gently on the walk home—how sometimes we think we’re helping, but we don’t see the full picture like God does. Peter didn’t want Jesus to suffer—but Jesus chose to suffer for us, because love is bigger than fear.

Later in the afternoon, I went and sat by the chicken coop. Omelette came over right away and settled beside me. Mini laid down with her chin between her paws, watching a butterfly dance in the air. I didn’t say anything. I just sat there, thinking. The cornfields rustled in the breeze behind me, and I thought about what it means to say with my whole heart: “You are the Christ.” I don’t know all the answers, but I want to follow Him with everything I’ve got.

Evening Prayer

Dear Jesus,

I want to be like Peter—
to say with all my heart,
“You are the Christ, the Son of the living God.”
Help me follow You, even when Your path is hard.
Teach me to trust Your plan more than my own.
Build my heart strong and steady like a rock,
and let me always stay close to You.

Love,

Kathy