It was another cold morning at Camp Littlemore, the kind that makes your nose tingle when you first step outside. Sister Mary Claire was up early with the stove going, and I could hear the crackle of the wooden pallet she’d cut up with her hand saw yesterday. The smell of the wood burning mixed with oatmeal and toast made the whole kitchen feel extra homey. Mini sat by the stove, her paws tucked under and her eyes half closed, looking as though she was saying her own morning prayer.
When we stepped outside, the frost still covered the steps, and our breath came out in little white puffs. Robert’s pickup was waiting at the end of the walk, engine running warm and steady. He leaned over and waved as we came down. Mini trotted ahead, but the step was too tall, so I gave her a little boost up into the cab. She landed right on Sister’s lap and pressed her nose against the glass, fogging it up with her breath.
The ride to St. Mary’s was quiet except for the hum of the heater and the sound of gravel under the tires. Inside the church, the stove was glowing red-hot, and everyone looked cheerful to be near it. Father LeRoy read from Saint Paul’s letter to the Romans, about how none of us live for ourselves but for the Lord, and how whether we live or die, we belong to Him.
In his homily, he said that we don’t need grand things to show love for God—only to live each day kindly and patiently, remembering that our lives are His gift. I thought of that as we drove home, with the cold air outside and the warmth still in my heart.
Now the stove crackles again, burning the rest of Sister’s pallet wood, and Mini is curled beside my chair. The house feels safe and peaceful.
Love,
Kathy
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