Queen of Mercy

Dear Diary,
 
It was 41 degrees this morning, and the countryside looked so still and bare. As Robert’s pickup rumbled down the lane, all I could see were empty fields of corn stubble left behind after the harvest—short, broken stalks sticking out of the brown earth, stretching as far as the eye could see. The wind skimmed low across them, whispering over the frozen ground. It felt like the whole land was resting after its long season of work.

Robert had the heater running, and the cab was warm and humming. Mini sat on Sister Mary Claire’s lap by the window, her nose pressed to the glass, leaving fog circles that faded as quickly as they appeared. I kept my gloves on and watched the fields slip by, feeling thankful for the quiet.

At St. Mary’s, the stove glowed and made the air smell faintly of oak wood. Father LeRoy’s homily today was from The Glories of Mary by Saint Alphonsus de Liguori. He told the story of a woman named Mary who had lived a sinful life and died all alone in a cave. Everyone believed she was lost forever. But just before her death, she turned to the Blessed Mother and prayed with her last breath:

“Lady, thou art the refuge of the abandoned; behold me at this hour deserted by all.”

And the Blessed Mother heard her. Through that single, sorrowful prayer, Our Lady helped her make an act of contrition, and her soul was saved. Later, she appeared shining like the sun to tell how Mary’s mercy had lifted her to Heaven. Father said this shows that Mary is not a faraway queen but a merciful one—her greatest joy is helping souls who seem beyond hope. He said her crown in Heaven will be made of all those she has helped save.

On the drive home, the fields looked lonelier than ever—just acres of corn stubble glinting in the weak sunlight—but somehow they didn’t seem empty anymore. I thought of that woman’s last prayer and how even a single whisper to Mary can be enough.


Evening Prayer:

Dear Mother Mary, Queen of Mercy, thank you for hearing every prayer, even from hearts that seem lost. Help me to trust your love always, and let your mercy shine through the quiet fields tonight.


Love,

Kathy