Tonight, Sister Mary Claire and I knelt side-by-side at the bedside, just the way we always do after evening Vigil Mass. The room was dim except for the soft lamp glowing under the picture of the Sacred Heart. Sister was still dressed in her full black habit and veil, just as she’d been at church. I could hear the quiet rustle of her sleeves as she folded her hands. My white nightgown brushed the floor, and my braids fell forward when I bowed my head.
We had just come in from the cold, and the warmth of our little room felt like a hug. Mini was already curled up on her rug near the door, half-asleep with her little ears twitching.
As we knelt, Sister began repeating Father LeRoy’s homily from tonight’s Gospel—the story of the persistent widow and the judge who didn’t fear God or respect anyone. Sister spoke softly, like she wanted the words to soak right into my heart.
“Father reminded us tonight,” she said, “that Jesus told this parable to show how we must pray always and never give up.”
I nodded because I remembered how Father stood at the pulpit and told us that God is nothing like the dishonest judge. The widow had to keep bothering the judge just to get justice, but we don’t ever have to bother God—He already loves us and listens to us the very first moment we call out.
Sister leaned a little closer and whispered, “Father said that if even a stubborn judge can finally give in because someone keeps returning… imagine how swiftly and tenderly our Lord responds to His children.”
I looked up at the Sacred Heart picture. The gentle light made it feel almost alive—as if Jesus was watching us pray. I felt something warm inside, like hope settling in.
Sister continued, “Father said God hears the prayers we think are too small to matter. He hears them day and night. But He wants us to stay faithful—even when the answer seems slow.”
I whispered to Sister that sometimes I wonder if my prayers are too simple. She smiled the sweetest smile and said, “No prayer is ever small when it comes from a loving heart. Remember the widow—she didn’t give up. And we mustn’t either.”
We prayed quietly then. I prayed for Sister and for Mini, for Father LeRoy and Robert, and for anyone who feels like they have to be brave all alone—just like the widow. Sister prayed aloud at the end, asking Jesus to give us steady hearts that don’t grow tired of praying.
When we finished, the room felt peaceful in a way that made me want to stay on my knees a little longer. Sister helped me up, and she tucked one of my braids behind my shoulder with that gentle way she has.
Tonight I learned that prayer isn’t about big words—it’s about not giving up, just like Jesus said.
Love,
Kathy
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