Robert pulled up by the mailbox this morning, his pickup shining from the dew. Mini wagged her whole little self when she saw him. Sister Mary Claire and I climbed in, and I sat in the middle with Mini between us on my lap. The windows were a bit foggy, and the heater hummed softly while we rode the gravel road to St. Mary’s for Holy Mass.
Father LeRoy read from the Gospel of Saint Luke about the Good Samaritan. He said that loving God and loving our neighbor are really the same thing, and that mercy is the proof of true faith. “Do this and you shall live,” he said, looking right at us as if he wanted each heart to take those words home.
On the way back, Robert didn’t say much at first, but after a while he said, “Seems like being a neighbor ain’t about fences, is it, Sister?” She smiled and answered, “It’s about the heart that crosses over them.” We all laughed a little, and Mini gave a happy bark like she agreed. Robert dropped us off at the mailbox again, gave a wave, and said he’d bring over some kindling next time around.
Later in the afternoon, I went with Mini down to the grotto cave. The air was cool and still, and the little stream whispered near the grotto steps. I lit a candle before Our Lady and tried to recite the Blessed Virgin Mary from memory. Mother most pure… Mother most chaste… The words echoed softly against the stone walls. I asked the Blessed Mother to help me love my neighbors the way her Son taught in today’s Gospel—to stop when others walk by, to be gentle even when no one sees.
Mini rested by the candlelight, eyes half closed. For a moment, it felt as though mercy itself filled the cave like warm air after rain.
Evening Prayer
Dear Jesus, help me to love You with all my heart, and to see You in everyone who crosses my path.
Let me be kind, like the Good Samaritan, and gentle, like Your Mother at the grotto.
Amen.
Love,
Kathy
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