A Bright, Cold Morning

 
Dear Diary,

The sky was so clear this morning that it almost hurt my eyes. All of yesterday’s snow was still lying smooth and white over the fields, and the air was crisp—36 degrees, Sister said. Mini dashed outside ahead of us, leaving tiny corgi footprints that disappeared where the sun touched the path.

At Mass, Father LeRoy read the Gospel about how Jesus entered the Temple and drove out the people selling things.

“My house shall be a house of prayer, but you have made it a den of thieves.”

I could almost hear Jesus saying it right there in St. Mary’s. Father told us that Jesus wasn’t angry the way people get angry, but more like a father protecting his home. He said the Temple was meant to be a quiet place where hearts opened up to God, not a noisy marketplace. Then he said something that made me think: “Every heart is meant to be a little house of prayer too.”

That made me wonder what Jesus might sweep out of my heart—maybe worry, or impatience, or wanting my own way too much. Father said that the people in the Gospel “hung on His words,” and he told us to do the same, especially when the world feels unsettled. I decided I want to try harder.

After chores, Mini and I bundled up and walked down to the cave. The cottonwoods along the homestead were dressed in white lace again. Inside the cave I lit a small fire in the stove, and the familiar crackle made it feel like a secret warm pocket under the hill. Mini took her place right by my feet, ears out like little airplane wings.

I read Part 2 of Chapter 1 from The Glories of Mary. Mary’s kindness in that chapter felt like soft light in the quiet. I tucked the wool blanket around my legs and read slowly so I wouldn’t miss anything. It felt like the perfect place to keep my heart a “house of prayer,” just like Jesus wants.

When the shadows grew longer and the fire turned to glowing red coals, Mini and I headed home, both of us leaving new tracks over the old ones.

Evening Prayer

Dear Jesus,

Thank You for Your strong love that protects Your house
and for showing me today how to keep my heart a place of prayer.
Help me sweep out anything that doesn’t belong to You.

Thank You for the snowy fields, the warm cave
and for Mini curled at my feet like always.
Bless Sister Mary Claire, bless Robert, and bless our little farm tonight.
Keep us close to You and make our hearts quiet and clean.

Love, Kathy