Friday, November 14, 2025

Being Ready for Jesus


Dear Diary

This morning the world outside looked cold and gray again, with the wind whispering around the house like it was trying to sneak inside. Sister had me bundle up tight, and Mini circled the door with her little bottom wiggling, knowing it was a church morning. We stepped into the cold and hurried down the walk toward the end of the sidewalk where Robert always stops.

Right on time, his pickup rolled up, warm air puffing out when he opened the door.

“Hello, ladies!” he said with his cheerful grin. Sister and I climbed in, and Robert lifted Mini onto Sister’s lap. Mini settled in proudly, like riding to church was her important job. The heater had the cab toasty warm, and the windows were a little fogged as we drove toward St. Mary’s.

The old wire gate at the west field entrance stood still in the cold—big and quiet, like it was frozen in time and just waiting for spring to come around again.

Inside church, everything felt hushed and peaceful. Father LeRoy read the Gospel about the days of Noah and Lot—how everyone was busy living ordinary days until suddenly everything changed. In his homily he said Jesus wasn’t trying to frighten us, but to remind us to live ready—ready with kindness, ready with love, ready to choose God first instead of clinging to things that won’t last. “A heart turned toward Heaven,” he said, “doesn’t fear surprises.” That part made me feel calm inside.

After Mass, Robert was waiting for us again, and Mini hurried toward him like greeting an old friend. The ride home was quick, and when we stepped out the cold hit our faces right away, pushing us back toward the warm house.

The rest of the day we stayed indoors. Sister called it a “no-gallivanting day,” which made me giggle. Mini slept by the stove, warm and snorty. I helped Sister fold towels and later worked in my scrapbook. The windows stayed frosted all afternoon, and the fields outside looked patient and quiet, knowing they won’t wake up until spring.

Now evening is here, and Mini is curled at my feet.

Love,

Kathy

No comments:

Post a Comment