Feast of the Holy Innocents

Dear Diary,

It was 29 degrees today, and the world looked quiet and frosty, like it was holding its breath. Robert came to pick us up for Church, and the truck felt like a little warm shelter from the cold. Sister Mary Claire reminded me to offer up the chill as a small gift to Baby Jesus.

At Mass, Father LeRoy spoke about the Holy Innocents Meditation. He said their suffering was terribly unjust, but that God can gather even sorrow into His hands and bring good from it. Father explained that we don’t need big dramatic trials to love God well—sometimes it’s the little hardships that teach us patience and courage, if we unite them to Jesus instead of complaining.

After Church, before we went home, Sister Mary Claire treated Robert and me to waffles at the Breakfast Club, and we got to see the four cousins again—Hayden, Caleb, Sasha, and Max—busy and cheerful as always. Caleb showed us their small butter churn from England, and he was already studying it like a puzzle, talking about how he could motorize it so it would churn steady and smooth without wearing anyone out. He kept turning the handle, peeking at the parts, and explaining his ideas with that serious, excited look. Robert watched him for a minute and said, “That boy’s got the hand of an engineer,” and Caleb just grinned like he’d been told something important.

The waffle tasted extra wonderful with butter churned right there.

On the way out, Sister said something she once read from G. K. Chesterton—that the world is full of wonders when we don’t get too heavy inside. I liked that, because it made me think: even on a day with a sad feast, God still gives warm trucks, good people, and butter-churned waffles.

Back home, I kept thinking about Father’s words—how God can turn even hard things toward good, and how I want to be brave in the small ways.

Evening Prayer

Dear Jesus, keep my heart gentle and faithful.

Help me carry today’s little hardships with love, and not with grumbling.

Bless Sister Mary Claire, Robert, and our cousins.

Amen.

Love, Kathy

A Clean Heart Walk to The Grotto

 

Dear Diary,

This morning Sister Mary Claire and I read the meditation for St. John before Mass, while the church was still quiet and cold and everything felt extra still—like the world was holding its breath after Christmas.

It said St. John loved Jesus with such a clean heart that he could rest close to Him at the Last Supper, right against His Sacred Heart. I kept thinking about that word clean… not just hands and aprons and kitchen towels, but a clean heart—like nothing sticky inside, nothing mean, nothing secret that I wouldn’t want Jesus to find.

Sister told me, “Purity of heart doesn’t mean you never get tempted, Kathy. It means you don’t invite the ugly thoughts in and make a home for them.” That helped me, because sometimes thoughts come like cold wind sneaking under the door.

Father LeRoy expounded on it in his homily and said St. John was trusted because his love was simple and true—like a child’s love. Then Father talked about how Jesus gave Mary to St. John at the Cross and said, “Behold thy mother.” Father said it’s like Jesus was making a warm family right in the middle of sorrow—so no one would be alone. I looked at Sister then, and I felt that same thing: like our little life is tucked under Mary’s mantle if we let it be.

After Mass it was another clear, cold day—blue sky and bright sun that doesn’t warm much, but makes everything sparkle anyway. We made a quick trip to Indian Creek. The path was crunchy under our boots, and the air pinched my nose. We visited Shaggy Coat (he was busy, like always) and then we went to the Blessed Mother at the grotto. I stood there and tried to be quiet in my thoughts—not just quiet in my mouth—and I asked Mary to help me love Jesus the way St. John did: close up, not far away.

Tonight, as I’m writing this, I keep remembering the line: “Blessed are the clean of heart.” I want to be that kind of blessed—not the loud kind, but the kind that makes room for Jesus to stay.

Evening Prayer

O Jesus, give me a clean heart like a little white dish that’s been rinsed and set out for You. Dear Mary, be my Mother and keep me close to Your Son. St. John, help me love Jesus simply and truly. Amen.

Resolution

For love of Jesus and Mary, I will guard my heart today—especially my eyes, my words, and my thoughts—and I will choose what is pure and kind.

Love, Kathy.

A Christmas Carrot for Shaggycoat

Dear Diary,

We woke up to 35° this morning, and before we could even settle in, Robert was already waiting in the pickup. Sister Mary Claire and I hurried to dress and make ourselves presentable, and we dashed out with Mini—skipping breakfast and deciding we’d eat when we got back.

At Mass, Father LeRoy based his homily on the Feast of St. Stephen meditation. He said St. Stephen was made strong by the Holy Ghost, and that even when people rose up against him, he kept his eyes lifted to Heaven and stayed faithful to Jesus. Father told us the bravest love is when you can forgive and pray—even for the ones who hurt you. Sister whispered that we practice this kind of love in the small moments first, and that’s how our hearts grow strong.

When the sun came out this afternoon, Sister Mary Claire came with me down to the creek, and I brought along a Christmas carrot for Shaggy coat. Indian Creek still hadn’t frozen, and he came right up to the bank when he heard me. I held the carrot steady, and he nibbled it as neat as could be, while Mini watched with her ears up and her eyes bright. Sister smiled the whole time, and it felt like the kind of quiet happiness that makes you remember God is near.

My Resolution:

I will practice patience today and not say anything unkind.

Evening Prayer:

Jesus, give me a brave, loving heart.

St. Stephen, pray for me.

Amen.

Love, Kathy

Christmas Day — The New-Born Saviour

Dear Diary,

This morning our house felt different—quiet and happy, like Christmas was already whispering to us. Robert picked us up for Christmas service, and we went together with Mini, who stayed close and watched everything like she understood it was a holy day.

Father LeRoy preached from The Meditation about the Nativity—the newborn Saviour who is so tiny, and yet truly God. He said Jesus chose the manger on purpose, so no one would think they had to be grand or important to come near Him. He came small and humble to draw our hearts close—love for love.

When we got home, we shared Christmas dinner with Robert and our friend Arlo. The house was filled with joy and warm talking, and it felt like a blessing to have everyone together. Mini went from person to person like she was making sure the whole day stayed cheerful.

Tonight I keep thinking about making “room” for Jesus, not just in our home, but in my heart too.

My Resolution:

I will give Baby Jesus room in my heart by being humble, obeying quickly, and doing kind things without fussing.

Evening Prayer:

In the Name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost. Amen.

Dear Baby Jesus, thank You for coming to us in such a gentle way. Help me love You back and stay close to You. Bless Robert and Arlo, and bless our home with Your peace.

Sweet Heart of Jesus, I trust in You. Amen.

Love, Kathy

Christmas Eve at Evening Mass

 

Dear Diary,

Today felt like the most Christmas Eve a day can feel.

The cold made everything quiet outside, like the world was holding its breath. Sister Mary Claire and I bundled up and waited for Robert, and when his truck finally came up the lane, it felt like an answered prayer. Mini knew right away what it meant—she did her little happy wiggle and pressed close to Sister, like she didn’t want to miss one single holy thing.

The ride to church was peaceful. Robert drove steady and careful, and the roads looked dark and sleepy, with winter all around them. The church windows shone warm and soft as we pulled in, and I remember thinking how the light looked like a promise.

Because it’s Christmas Eve, we went to evening Mass, and everything felt extra sacred—like the air itself was different. Father LeRoy’s homily stayed close to the meditation for today, and I tried my very best to listen with my whole heart.

He spoke about Mary waiting for Jesus, not in a loud or worried way, but in deep quiet—like a candle that never goes out. He said she was preparing not with presents or noise, but with recollection, love, obedience, and trust. He reminded us that the stable was poor, but it was holy, because Mary gave Jesus the richest thing she had: her whole heart.

Then Father said something that made me sit up straighter. He said Christmas isn’t only Jesus coming to Bethlehem long ago—Christmas is Jesus coming to us, too. He talked about how we prepare our hearts like a little manger, especially when we receive Him in Holy Communion. He said we don’t give Jesus big fancy gifts. We give Him our small ones: our promises, our sacrifices, our obedience, our love—and we renew them like a fresh offering.

When we knelt, I pictured the cave of Bethlehem like The Meditation says—Mary in deep prayer, St. Joseph kneeling apart, and the angels so near you could almost hear them breathe. And I thought, Lord, please help me be ready. Please make my heart a clean place for You.

After Mass, we walked out into the cold again, but it didn’t feel as sharp. It felt bright—like the night was keeping a secret, and the secret is Jesus.

Now we’re home, and Mini is curled up and warm, and Sister Mary Claire looks peaceful and quiet like she’s still holding something holy in her heart. I’m going to sleep, too, because tomorrow is Christmas, and I want to meet it with a good heart.

Bedtime Prayer

Jesus, please come close to my heart tonight.

Help me love You like Mary did—quietly, truly, and with my whole self.

Mary and Joseph, lead me to Jesus and teach me how to be ready.

Glory to God in the highest.

Amen.

Resolution

Tonight I will make my heart a little manger—clean, quiet, and ready—so I can welcome Jesus with love and keep my promises faithfully.

Love, Kathy.

No Room in The Inn and Robert's Firewood

Dear Diary,❄️

This morning it was 29° and the snow was falling in that soft, steady way that makes everything look hushed, like the whole farm is holding its breath. Sister Mary Claire and I could hear the wind brushing the side of the house, and the little flakes tapping the window like tiny fingers.

We were just getting ready when Robert came early — and not just to pick us up for Church. He pulled in with a whole load of split firewood, stacked so neat and honest-looking in the back of his pickup that it made my heart feel full before the day even started. Sister Mary Claire went right out with me, and when she saw it, she put her hand to her coat like she was almost laughing and almost going to cry at the same time.

There is no outdoing his generosity. Truly. He just does things like that as if it’s the most normal thing in the world.

We thanked him and he shrugged the way he always does, like it’s nothing, even though it’s something big. The snow had already dusted the edges of the wood, and I thought of how warm it would make our stove later, and how the Lord must smile at kindness like that.

Then we all climbed into the pickup — Sister, Robert, Mini, and me — and off we went to Church while the snow kept falling and the road turned paler and paler ahead of us.

At Mass, Father LeRoy spoke about Mary and Joseph going to Bethlehem, and how the Lord chose to come in poverty and lowliness, not in comfort. He said their journey teaches us that we are travelers too — not meant to cling so tightly to everything here, but to keep our hearts free for God.

And then he talked about the part that always makes me feel a lump in my throat — how there was no room for them in the inn. Father said it still happens when Jesus comes close to our hearts and we are too busy, or too full of ourselves, or too scattered with a divided heart. He said Advent is the time to make room — not just a corner, but the best place, and really, our whole heart.

On the ride home I watched the snow blur past the window and I kept thinking: Bethlehem was cold too. And still Mary was patient. Still Joseph kept going. Still Jesus came.

Back home, the firewood Robert brought felt like part of the meditation, almost like a lesson in action. A warm stove, a sheltered house, a gift given quietly — it made me want to be more like that, and not make excuses, and not be stingy with love.

Tonight the snow is still coming down, and Mini is curled up like a little loaf of bread, so cozy you’d think she’s never known a cold day in her life.

My Resolution

Today I will make room for Jesus by practicing humility, meekness, and patience, and by doing one kind thing without wanting credit for it.

Evening Prayer

I make the Sign of the Cross and quiet my heart.

Jesus, please come into my heart and stay.

Help me not to be crowded inside with fussing and pride.

Teach me to be gentle and patient like Mary,

and faithful and steady like St. Joseph.

Thank You for Robert’s kindness today, and for the warmth You give us in so many ways.

Sweet Heart of Jesus, make my heart a home for You.

Sweet Heart of Mary, keep me close to Jesus.

Amen.

Love, Kathy.

A Little Bethlehem Day

Dear Diary,

Today I was sick, and I could hardly get out of bed. Sister Mary Claire did every single outside chore, and I felt sorry that I couldn’t help at all. Mini stayed in the bedroom with me like a little warm nurse, curled up close, and sometimes she looked at me as if she was listening to my breathing.

While I was lying there, I kept thinking about the meditation for December 22nd—how Bethlehem was small, but God chose it anyway. It made me feel better, because my day was small too. Just a bedroom. Just a cold. Just quiet. But maybe Jesus likes small places, if they’re honest and trying.

Bethlehem means “House of Bread,” and it said Jesus is the true Bread of Life. I couldn’t go to Communion today, but I kept thinking of Jesus in the tabernacle—so near, and so patient. Even if I can’t do big works, I can still try to make my heart a little “Bethlehem” for Him: not fancy, just clean and ready. I told Jesus I didn’t have much to give Him today except my sickness and my trust, and I offered Him both.

My Resolution

By being more faithful in little virtues—patience, gratitude, and a gentle spirit—I will try to prepare my heart better for Holy Communion.

Short Prayer

Jesus, Bread of Life, please come and stay close to me. Make my small heart a place where You are welcome. Amen.

Love, Kathy

My Resolution

 

Dear Diary,

This morning was the kind of cold that makes the world feel extra quiet, like the whole farm is holding its breath. Sister Mary Claire and I bundled up fast, and Robert came to get us for Mass. Mini came too, of course—tucked close and happy just to be with us.

At Church, Father LeRoy talked about something that made my heart feel warm clear down to the bottom: how Jesus stays with us in the tabernacle because He loves us.

Father said that when someone loves you, they want to be near you—not just for a minute, but for always. And Jesus did that in the most amazing way. Even though He went back to the Father, He found a way to remain here with us—right there on the altar, quiet and hidden, but truly present. Father LeRoy said it’s like Jesus is saying, “I will not leave you.”And He means it.

Father also explained that the tabernacle is not an empty place at all. It’s a place where Jesus is thinking of us, watching over us, and waiting—like He’s listening for our footsteps coming down the aisle. Father said Jesus speaks to hearts there, softly, not with loud words, but with a kind of gentle closeness that makes a person braver inside.

When we knelt, I tried to picture it: Jesus, King of Heaven, choosing the quiet little tabernacle—choosing our little country church—just so we can come near Him anytime. That made me feel small in a good way, like a child being cared for.

Mini sat with Sister like she belonged there, too. She looked so peaceful that I thought, Maybe that’s how we should be with Jesus—just staying close, not making it complicated.

On the way home, Robert drove steady and careful, and Sister Mary Claire said, “Kathy, if you ever wonder if Jesus loves you, remember the tabernacle.” I nodded, because I didn’t even need to argue. It felt true.

My Resolution:

Today I will make a little visit to Jesus—if only in my heart—and speak to Him simply and honestly.

Kathy’s Prayer:

Jesus, thank You for staying with us in the tabernacle because You love us.

Please help me come to You quickly, and not forget You are near.

Mary, bring me close to Jesus.

Amen.




Love, Kathy

“Jesus, Live in My Heart”

Dear Diary,

This morning it was 34°, and that felt almost like a little surprise after all the bitter days. When I looked out the window, the world didn’t look so sharp and mean. It looked… possible. It made walking to Church feel tempting, like, “Maybe we could do it!”—but we still had Robert come and pick us up, and I was glad, because warm seats are a very kind invention.

Mini came too, of course. She stood at the door like she was the one in charge of getting us to Mass on time. When Robert pulled up, Mini did her happy little trot and hopped in like she belonged there (which she does). The air outside still had a bite, but it wasn’t the kind that scares you—it was the kind that just pinches your cheeks and makes you feel awake.

Before we went, Sister Mary Claire and I read Today's Meditation called “Jesus, Live in My Heart.” It started with that Scripture about the Light shining in the darkness… and how sometimes the darkness just doesn’t understand. Sister said, “Kathy, Jesus is always the Light, but we can still shut the door on Him—without even meaning to—just by forgetting Him.”

The meditation said Jesus wants to live in our hearts, but some souls don’t make a lasting place for Him, because they keep slipping back into old ways, or they live in distractions like their mind is always running off somewhere. That part felt so true to me. I thought about how easy it is to be thinking about who’s looking at me, or whether I look silly, or if I said the wrong thing—like my heart is busy being a little show-room instead of a home.

Sister Mary Claire explained it in a way I could understand. She said, “Imagine Jesus knocking—very gently—like He doesn’t want to frighten you. He’s not asking for a fancy room. He’s asking for you. But if we keep the house noisy on purpose, we don’t even hear the knock.”

At Church, Father LeRoy talked about the same idea—how Jesus comes to His own, and sometimes we don’t receive Him, not because we hate Him, but because we’re full of other things. He said we can be “good” and still be crowded inside, and then we wonder why prayer feels dry. That made me think of a cold stove that hasn’t been fed yet—nothing wrong with it, it’s just empty of fire.

The second point in the meditation was my favorite: we find and keep the Lord in solitude. Not lonely-solitude, but quiet-solitude—like the kind of hush you feel when you’re kneeling and everything settles down. Sister said, “Kathy, you don’t have to go far away to find Him. You just have to go in.”

So on the way home, while Robert drove and the heater hummed, I tried to do that. I tried to “retire into my heart,” just like the meditation said. Mini curled up and sighed like she was praying too (or maybe just very cozy). And I whispered inside, Jesus, I hear You knocking. Please come in. Please stay.

My Resolution

I will frequently retire into my heart today, even for a moment, and quietly talk to Jesus—especially when I feel distracted.

My Spiritual Bouquet

“Behold, I stand at the gate and knock.”

Love, Kathy

The Lord is Nigh

Dear Diary,

I woke up from the sweetest dream—so sweet it almost hurt.

In my dream I was looking out the window, and I could see the old garage out there in the dark morning. Only it wasn’t just a garage anymore. It was like a little Bethlehem, all quiet and holy. And inside, I saw Baby Jesus, so tiny and dear, and angels were close all around Him, like they were keeping Him warm with their wings and their love. Everything felt still, like the whole world was holding its breath for Him.

That dream faded the moment I heard Sister Mary Claire in the other room fixing the fire. I was awake then—truly awake—and I lay still for a second listening to the stove door and the careful little sounds she makes when it’s cold.

I slipped out of bed and went straight to the window—oh, it was so different—no garage, no Baby Jesus, no angels. Just the yard sitting there empty and bleak and cold, like the whole world was gray and still. I felt lonely—the way you do when something beautiful is taken away. 

But then the stove began to crackle, and it felt like the house sighed and said, “Thank you.” And I remembered something Sister says: God gives us little lights, but we still have to walk by faith when it’s dim.

After that, Sister and I read Today’s Meditation: “Prepare ye the Way of the Lord.” The part that stayed with me most was how it said we can’t do this Advent work by ourselves—how we are too weak on our own—and that prayer is a necessary means of sharing in God’s graces.

Sister explained it plainly: Advent isn’t only about getting things ready on the outside. It’s about getting ready on the inside, and the main way we do that is by praying. She reminded me that Jesus prayed before His birth, pleading for the world, and that even then our needs were before Him. That thought made me feel so cared for that I got quiet.

The meditation also talked about silence and recollection. Sister said that when we guard our words and distractions, our hearts get calmer, like a room that’s been straightened up. And then prayer becomes easier—not always easy, but easier to return to.

All day I kept remembering that moment at the window—how the outside looked empty and cold—and it helped me understand why prayer matters. If the world looks bleak, it doesn’t mean Jesus isn’t near. It means I must keep preparing, quietly and faithfully, so He can come close.

Kathy’s Resolution

Today I will prepare for Jesus by fervent prayer and more silence, even when I feel cold inside or distracted.

Spiritual Bouquet

“The Lord is nigh.”

Love, Kathy

My Morning Prayer Card and a Snowy Day

Dear Diary,

This morning I got up and the cold was already sitting on the windows like it meant to stay. The sky looked heavy and gray, and little bits of snow kept slipping down, quiet as feathers.

Since there was no Church today, it felt extra important to begin right. Father LeRoy had another bout with his nose and he called the service off. Sister Mary Claire says he just has a bad cold, but I still felt sorry, because it’s hard to be the priest when you don’t feel strong.

So I went straight to my bedside table and looked at my morning prayer card—the one I made from one of Sister’s recipe cards. It took me quite a bit of time because I wanted every word to sit just right and look neat, like it belonged there. Sister gave me that old German cutout for the side, and I love it because it feels like something from a long-ago prayer book, like it has already been praying for a hundred years.

After prayers, it was a chicken kind of day. The cold makes everything slower outside, and you have to do things careful so water doesn’t turn to ice before you even set it down. I fed the flock and checked the nests and talked to them like they were little ladies in shawls.

And because it’s so terribly cold, I brought Omelette inside for a while. She didn’t even fuss much—she just settled and blinked like she couldn’t believe the warmth was real. I think she liked being near us, and I liked knowing she was safe from the biting air. The snow kept coming again, soft and steady, and it made the whole farm feel hushed, like God had put a blanket over everything.

Sister said a day like this can still be holy, even without Mass, if we keep offering it. So I tried to do that—one chore at a time—like laying little pieces of kindness at Jesus’ feet.

My Resolution:

Today I will do my chores gently and remember Jesus is close, even when the weather is harsh and plans change.

Evening Prayer:

Sweet Heart of Jesus, keep Father LeRoy feeling better. Please watch our chickens tonight, and keep Omelette warm and safe. Mary, Mother, help me belong to Jesus more each day. Amen.

Love, Kathy.

God Lifts the Humble

Dear Diary,

This morning we went to Church early again. Robert came and picked us up, and Mini went too, of course. She sat nice and calm, like she knows this is an important place. The ride was quiet and peaceful, and I was thinking about the meditation Sister had read with me before we left.

The meditation was about the Magnificat, where Our Blessed Mother says that God’s mercy lasts from generation to generation, and that He puts down the mighty and lifts up the humble. At Church, Father spoke about the very same words. He said Mary teaches us how God looks at the heart, not at how big or important someone seems on the outside.

Sister explained it to me afterward in her gentle way. She said that fearing God doesn’t mean being scared of Him, but loving Him so much that we don’t want to hurt Him by sin. She said this kind of fear actually helps us trust God more, because we know He is good and merciful, and always watching over us like a loving Father.

Father also talked about humility. He said that proud people think they can do everything by themselves, but humble people know they need God. Sister told me that Jesus Himself was humble, even though He is God, and that if I want to be like Jesus, I should try to be little and simple in my heart.

I liked thinking about how God notices quiet people and small acts, like saying thank you, admitting when I’m wrong, or asking for help. Mini sat beside us during Mass, and I thought how she doesn’t pretend to be anything she’s not. She just trusts us completely, and maybe that’s a little bit like trusting God.

When we knelt, I asked Our Lady to help me be humble and not think too much of myself. I want God to lift me up in the way He wants, not in my own way.

My Resolution for Today:

I will try to be humble in my thoughts and actions, and I will remember that everything good I do comes from God, not just from me.




Love,

Kathy

From My Recipe Box

Mary's Thank You Song

Dear Diary, 

This morning felt just right again because Father LeRoy is feeling better and Church was back to normal. I was so happy to hear that, because going to Mass is like the steady beat of our week.

Robert picked us up and gave us a ride to Church. Sister and I climbed in, and Mini came too, sitting close and watching out the window. On the way, Sister and I told Robert what the homily would likely be about. Father uses the same meditation book that follows the Liturgical year, so we had already read today’s meditation together. Robert smiled and said he liked knowing ahead of time what Father would be speaking about, and it made the ride feel cozy and thoughtful.

At Church, Father spoke about Mary’s Thanksgiving—the Magnificat. When he said Mary’s words, “My soul doth magnify the Lord,” they sounded very beautiful and gentle. I thought about how Mary always gave everything back to God. She never kept the praise for herself, even though God had given her the greatest gifts of all. Sister later whispered that Mary’s whole life was like one long thank-you to God, not just her words but everything she did.

Father also spoke about Mary’s joy when she said, “My spirit hath rejoiced in God, my Saviour.” That joy didn’t come from anything in the world, but from loving God completely and knowing He was close. I tried to listen very carefully and hold those words in my heart.

When we rode home, I kept thinking how nice it is that the Church year guides us step by step, and that Father, Sister, and even us children can follow along together, learning the same things at the same time.

My Resolution:

Today I will try to thank God more often and remember that real joy comes from loving Him and giving everything back to Him.

Love,

Kathy

Click on the Card to Print one for Yourself!

Morning Recipe

Click on the Card to Print one for Yourself!

Dear Diary,

This morning I stayed very quiet after I woke up because everything felt peaceful, even though it is still very cold outside. Sister said it was finally on the plus side of zero, which felt like good news after so many bitter mornings. The frost was thick on the windows, but the room felt warm and safe.

I worked most of the morning on my little Morning Prayer card for my bedside table. It is very simple, but I wanted every line to be just right. I typed it slowly and carefully, stopping many times to read it again. Sometimes I changed just one word, and sometimes I just sat and looked at it to see if it felt right in my heart. I wanted it to sound like how I really pray when I first wake up—quiet, honest, and close to Jesus and Mary. When it was finished, I felt happy and a little tired too, like I had done something important.

There was no Church today because Father LeRoy is not feeling well. Sister said we should pray for him, so I added him to my morning prayer. Even though we didn’t walk to Church, it still felt like a holy day in our house.

Mini slept through most of it. She is curled up in her little bed with her face buried deep into her Christmas pillow, only one ear showing. Every once in a while she sighs and wiggles, but she doesn’t wake up. I think she likes cold days best when she can stay inside and dream.

I put my prayer card on my bedside table and said it once more before putting my pencil down. I hope tomorrow morning, and all the mornings after, I remember to pray just as simply.

My Resolution:

I will say my morning prayer slowly and mean every word.

Love,

Kathy

Third Sunday of Advent

 

Dear Diary,

It was minus ten degrees this morning, and as soon as Sister and I stepped out the door, our breath showed right away like little white clouds in the air. The cold felt sharp and still, and even the snow sounded crunchy under our boots. Mini was right there with us, all ready and alert, watching as Robert pulled up.

We climbed into the pickup quickly. Inside it was all warm and snug, and Robert smiled and said his new engine heater worked well. The pickup started just fine, like it wasn’t winter at all. Mini was certainly ready to go—she hopped right in and settled down as if she belonged there.

The ride to Church felt peaceful and bright inside, even though everything outside was frozen and white. Early this morning, before we left, Sister and I read the meditation for the third Sunday of Advent. It was about St. John the Baptist and how he never pointed to himself, only to Jesus. Sister said this Sunday is called Gaudete Sunday, which means rejoice, and that real joy comes when we make room for Our Lord.

Father LeRoy talked about the same thing in his homily. He said Advent is a time of preparing the way for Jesus. As he spoke, I kept thinking about the farm. At Camp Littlemore Farm, there is always work to do—stacking wood, clearing paths, fixing things so everything is ready when winter comes. Sister said preparing for Jesus is like that too, only the work is inside us. Instead of clearing snow or carrying wood, we clear out unkind thoughts, make room for patience, and try to keep our hearts warm and ready for Him.

After Mass, Robert left off some wood for Father LeRoy, stacked neatly by the church. Then we came home, and Robert came in for a cup of coffee to warm up. We talked about the third Sunday of Advent and the meditation, and how it fits our everyday life at Camp Littlemore Farm. It felt nice to think that even our simple days and small efforts can help prepare a place for Jesus to come.

My Resolution:

Today I will work on my heart the way we work on the farm—clearing out what doesn’t belong and making a warm, ready place for Jesus.

Love,

Kathy

Mary said Yes!

Dear Diary,

There was no church today because it is six below zero, and they say it feels more like twenty below. Everyone is staying home and keeping as warm as possible, close to their wood and coal heaters. Most folks are only making quick trips outside to do what needs to be done, and then hurrying right back in.

Mini has been the brave one today. She takes her quick little hikes around the yard, does what needs doing, and then comes flying back to the door with her ears flat and her paws cold. I stayed indoors where it was warm and watched from the window, thankful for the stove and the quiet.

Sister Mary Clare and I did our meditation together from her Convent Book—the one she used during her formation, when she was learning how to be a Sister. Today it was about Our Lady consenting to become the Mother of God. Sister explained that Mary did not fully know what lay ahead, but she trusted God completely. Her yes was gentle, humble, and brave, and because of that yes, Jesus came into the world.

Sister said that even when we stay hidden and warm, we can still make our own little yes to God—by obeying, by trusting, and by offering Him our day just as it is.

My resolution for today:

I will try to say yes to God in small, quiet ways, even when I would rather stay comfortable, and I will trust Him like Mary did.

Love,

Kathy

Snow, Silence and Waiting

Dear Diary,

It was 25 degrees this morning, and everything looked fresh and quiet after the night snow. We had another two inches, but the roads were clear. Sister and I bundled up, and Mini came with us, her little paws making tidy prints in the snow. Before long Robert waved, picked us up, and off we went, the pickup humming steadily as we headed toward church.

On the way, Sister talked to me about Today’s Meditation. She said it might seem a little rigorous, because it was written especially for nuns, who live very careful and disciplined lives. But she told me that even so, everyone can benefit from it. She said the heart of the meditation is about being faithful in small things, especially in prayer, and not growing careless during Advent.

Sister explained that one of the important points is learning to be quiet inside, even when there are busy thoughts and cold mornings. She said God speaks gently, and Advent is a good time to practice listening. Another point was about doing our daily duties carefully, not rushing through them, because love shows in how we do ordinary things.

At Mass, Father LeRoy expanded on today’s meditation from his own copy. He said Advent is not meant to make us tense or afraid, but watchful and hopeful, like waiting by the window for someone you love very much. He said discipline helps keep our hearts ready for Jesus.

After Mass, Mini stayed close and content, and as we drove home the snow sparkled in the light. I felt peaceful inside and thankful that Sister helped me understand the meditation better. It isn’t about being hard on ourselves, but about loving Jesus more carefully each day.

My Resolution:

Today I will try to pray more carefully and do my chores without rushing, and when my thoughts wander, I will gently turn them back to Jesus.

Love,

Kathy

23 Degrees and Snowing

Dear Diary,

This morning Sister and I woke up to a world all white and soft, the snowflakes coming down like tiny feathers shaken from Heaven. It was only 23 degrees outside, and Robert said the roads were too slippery for his pickup, so Sister decided we would stay home from Mass and say our prayers right here in our warm little house.

Mini curled up by the stove, and Sister read aloud the Meditation for Thursday. I held my little blanket around my shoulders and tried to picture the Angel Gabriel standing in the quiet room at Nazareth, with Mary looking so humble and gentle.

What touched my heart the most was how Mary got troubled—not because she was scared of the angel, but because she was so humble she couldn’t imagine being praised like that. Sister said that real holiness never looks at itself, and that made me think. Sometimes I feel proud over small things, like finishing my chores early or making Sister smile. Mary shows a better way—thinking more about God than about ourselves.

The angel said, “Fear not, Mary, for thou hast found grace with God.”

I liked that part best. Sister says when a thought gives peace, it is from God, and when a thought makes me jittery or fretful, it is not from Him. So today I want to hold onto Mary’s peace, like a warm mitten in the cold.

Before we closed our prayer book, I looked at Sister’s face in the lamplight. She loves these meditations so much, and I love learning them with her. Even though we missed Mass, I felt close to God just the same.

My Resolution:

Today I will try to speak softly and kindly, and not use too many words. Just simple ones that make peace.

Love,

Kathy

Quiet Prayer

Dear Diary,

This morning, before the sun was fully up, Sister Mary Claire and I knelt beside our beds, with little Mini curled right between us, warm and wiggly. We prayed the Our Father, and then Sister had me think especially hard about the Hail Mary—just the part we read in our meditation today: “Hail Mary… the Lord is with thee.”

Sister said those words were the angel Gabriel’s very own greeting, and that they weren’t just a title or a compliment—they were the truth of Mary’s whole life. God was already with her from the very first instant she existed, filling her with His grace. I tried to imagine that quiet little house in Nazareth suddenly filled with light as the angel bowed before her. And Mary, so gentle and beautiful, wasn’t afraid because her heart was already God’s dwelling place.

Since Robert is out of town for a couple of days, Sister and I bundled up and walked to church along the gravel road. The snow was crisp under our boots, and Mini kept stopping to poke her face into the drifts. Sister held my mittened hand, and I kept thinking, Mary walked simple paths too… and God was with her in every step.

At Mass, Father LeRoy preached almost the exact same thing we read, which made Sister smile at me because we both knew he was using the same meditation book. Father said Mary wasn’t just visited by God—she was His home. And when we pray the Hail Mary, we echo the Angel’s greeting. It made me feel like Heaven comes a little closer each time I say it.

Father reminded us that when Mary gave her “Yes,” Jesus took His place within her, bringing all the treasures of Heaven with Him. And when we receive Holy Communion, Jesus comes to us too—not in the same way, but still truly and lovingly. That thought made my heart feel warm, even in the cold church.

Walking back home, Sister said softly, “If God was with Mary so perfectly, we should try to let Him be with us too—by doing His Will in the little things.” I thought about that all the way home, watching Mini scamper ahead like she knew the way by heart.

So today I want to slow down when I say the Hail Mary and remember that Mary is still full of God’s grace, and she wants to help me stay close to Him too.

Resolution:

I will say the Hail Mary slowly and remember that God was with Mary in every moment—and He wants to be near me too.

Spiritual Bouquet:

One loving Hail Mary for someone who needs to feel God close today.


Love,

Kathy

Hail Full of Grace

Dear Diary,

This morning Sister Mary Claire and I knelt beside our beds, with Mini squeezing herself right between us like she always does. We began our prayers with the Our Father and the Hail Mary. The room was still dim and quiet, and I could hear the soft creak of the house waking up as we prayed.

Afterward, Sister explained the words “Hail Mary, full of grace.” She said the angel didn’t just greet Mary the way people greet each other—he spoke the truth of what her heart already was. Mary was full of God, clear through, like a cup filled to the very top where even one more drop would spill over. Sister told me that’s why the angel bowed, not because Mary was powerful, but because she was perfectly open to God’s love.

I tried to picture Mary hearing those words for the very first time—maybe standing in her quiet home, maybe holding a little clay jug, maybe feeling startled and peaceful all at once. Sister said every time we say the Hail Mary, we’re repeating the angel’s words and remembering how close God came to us through her. And Mary, being a Mother, never lets a prayer go unanswered—she takes it and gives us a little grace back, just the kind we need.

Mini kept her ears in airplane mode the entire time, like she understood something holy was happening. I touched her soft side and whispered, “Our Lady loves puppies too,” and Sister smiled a tiny smile.

My Resolution:

Today I want to say each Hail Mary slowly and lovingly, remembering that Mary is full of God’s grace—and she wants to help me be full of grace too.

Sister just reminded me it’s time to get ready for church, so I’ll put my pencil down now. Mini is already prancing at the door.

Love,

Kathy

Feast of the Immaculate Conception

Dear Diary, 

This morning at St. Mary’s, everything felt extra quiet and holy. Father LeRoy read a poem by William Wordsworth called The Virgin. He told us Mary was the one person God made completely pure—so pure that not even the tiniest shadow of sin ever touched her. That’s what the poem meant when it said her heart was “uncrost with the least shade of thought to sin.”

Father added something that surprised me. He said William Wordsworth was actually a Protestant, but in his time many Protestants still held a deep love and respect for Mary, following the devotion that had always been part of the first Church. Father said this shows how Mary’s beauty and goodness can touch any heart, no matter where a person comes from.

The line that stayed with me most was when Father said Mary is “our tainted nature’s solitary boast.” Even though we all have faults, Mary is God’s perfect flower—His way of showing how beautiful a soul can be when it belongs completely to Him. The poet said nothing on earth is as pure as she is, not even ocean foam or the moon before it begins to wane.

Father reminded us that people kneel before Mary because she is our Mother in Heaven, and her heart is always turned toward us. She brings heaven close to earth just by loving God so perfectly.

When we stepped outside, the cold air sparkled, and Mini hopped into the pickup like she knew it was a special feast day.

My Daily Resolution:

Today I will give Mary a small gift by keeping my thoughts kind and gentle, and whispering a Hail Mary each time I think of her.

Love,

Kathy

The Virgin

by William Wordsworth

Mother! whose virgin bosom was uncrost
With the least shade of thought to sin allied.
Woman! above all women glorified,
Our tainted nature’s solitary boast;
Purer than foam on central ocean tost;
Brighter than eastern skies at daybreak strewn
With fancied roses, than the unblemished moon
Before her wane begins on heaven’s blue coast;
Thy image falls to earth. Yet some, I ween,
Not unforgiven the suppliant knee might bend,
As to a visible Power, in which did blend
All that was mixed and reconciled in thee
Of mother’s love with maiden purity,
Of high with low, celestial with terrene!

Second Sunday of Advent

Dear Diary,

This morning Robert drove us to St. Mary’s, and he had the heater going good and warm in the pickup. He lifted Mini onto Sister’s lap the way he always does, and Mini looked so proud, like she had an important seat in a parade. The roads were frosty and sparkly, and everything felt very Advent-quiet.

At church, Sister whispered that today’s meditation came from the same book Father uses for his homilies, so we already had a little hint of what the Gospel would be about—St. John sending his messengers to Jesus and asking, “Art Thou He that art to come?” It sounded so old and beautiful, like a Christmas card that came to life.

Two things stayed with me:

First, Sister explained that Jesus didn’t just say who He was—He let the messengers see His works. The blind saw, the lame walked, and the poor heard the Gospel. Sister said, “Kathy, people should be able to see our faith, not just hear it.” That made me think about how even small kindnesses can show Jesus to others.

Second, Sister said St. John kept hoping even in prison. He sent messengers because he wanted to stay close to Jesus. Advent is when we get to do the same—send our own “little messengers,” like prayers and good deeds, so our hearts don’t grow fussy or forgetful.

When we got home, the cold felt even sharper, so Mini and I only peeked at the coop and hurried back inside. Sister invited Robert in for a cup of warm milk and honey to thank him for the ride, and he sat with us a few minutes. Mini curled right up at his feet like she always does. We talked a bit more about Father’s homily, and Robert said he wished he had a couple of messengers who could help him when his pickup won’t behave.

My Resolution for Today:

I will try to show my faith by what I do—small helps, small kindnesses—and send these “messengers” to Jesus all day long. And I will keep my heart hopeful, like St. John did, even when things feel difficult.

Love,

Kathy

Her Eyes - A Study

A Mother's Warmth on a Cold Morning

Dear Diary,

Sister Mary Claire and I stayed home again today. The cold still bites straight through your coat, and Robert called to say his pickup wouldn’t start again. He told Sister that he’s going to install a little engine heater, and once that’s in, the “No Start” problem should be fixed for good. That made Sister smile, because she knows how much he worries about getting us to Mass on cold mornings.

So instead of church, Sister and I read our Advent meditation at the kitchen table, with Mini curled under our feet like a warm little fur ball.

I wrote down one main point Sister helped me understand about Our Blessed Mother:

God prepared Mary from the very beginning to be the Mother of Jesus, and she used every single grace He gave her — which is why she became so beautiful to God and to us.

Sister said Mary isn’t just Jesus’ Mother; she is our Mother too. She loves us with a heart that is gentle and strong, the way a perfect mother loves her children. Knowing she watches over us makes me feel safe, even on the frostiest mornings.

We’ll go to Mass tomorrow, once Robert gets that engine heater on and the pickup behaving again.

Resolution: Today I will try to stay close to Mary by being gentle, patient, and kind—just like a child should be with a loving Mother.

Love,

Kathy

The Warm Front

Dear Diary,

This morning felt almost warm to me after all the cold days we’ve had. When Sister Mary Claire and I stepped outside, the air didn’t sting at all. Mini was so happy she trotted ahead and made a neat little line of Corgi tracks in the snow.

Right when we got to the mailbox, Robert pulled up and called out, “Hello, ladies!” like he always does. The pickup was already warm inside, and Mini hopped right into his arms. He placed her on Sister’s lap, and she sat there so proud, like she was in charge.

The world felt very quiet on the way to church. The sky was pale and soft, and everything seemed slowed down, like Advent mornings always are. Sister says this is the season when our hearts get ready for Jesus.

At Mass, the Gospel was about two blind men who followed Jesus even though they couldn’t see Him. They just kept calling out, “Son of David, have pity on us!” Jesus asked if they believed He could help them, and they said, “Yes, Lord.” And He touched their eyes—and suddenly they could see everything.

On the way home, Sister said sometimes our hearts can act a little blind too, like when we forget to trust Jesus. But the blind men kept following Him anyway, and that’s the part that stayed with me.

My Resolution for Today:

To trust Jesus the way those men did, even when I don’t see the answer right away.

Love,

Kathy

A House Built on Rocks

Dear Diary, 

 
Brrr… this morning it was seven degrees below zero when the phone rang. Mini growled her sleepy little growl, and Sister Mary Claire answered it from under her blanket. It was Robert, and he said his pickup simply wouldn’t start in the bitter cold. So no Mass today. I felt disappointed for a moment, but Sister said softly, “Sometimes Our Lord brings the Gospel right to our fireside.”

So we stayed snug here at Camp Littlemore, with the stove sending out that friendly little crackle. Sister made us cocoa first, and then she read the Gospel of the Day from St. Matthew—about the wise man who built his house on rock, and the foolish one who built on sand.

When she finished, she looked at me the way she does when she wants me to think deeper, and she said,

“Kathy, Jesus isn’t just talking about houses. He’s talking about our choices. Every good thing we do—every honest word, every little prayer—lays stones on rock. And every time we know what’s right but don’t do it, that’s sand. Storms come to everyone, but only what’s built on love and goodness will stand.”

I nodded because I understood it more clearly than ever.

My resolution for today:

Lord, help me build everything on You. Even if the day is quiet and simple, let my little choices be strong stones—kind words, patience, and doing what is right even when no one sees.

The weather was far too cold for anything but quick walks for Mini. She dashed out and right back in again, her little bottom wagging like she couldn’t believe how icy the world had turned. We spent most of the day warm and safe inside—Sister reading, me writing, and Mini curled at our feet, her fur coat doing its job.

Even without Mass, it was a peaceful day, and the Gospel still found its way to our hearts.

Love,

Kathy

Gunsmoke

Dear Diary,

Last night Sister Mary Claire and I watched an old Western episode from Gunsmoke. It was a true story and left me feeling a little sad. A man was accused of robbing a stagecoach, and soon everyone in town started snubbing him, even though no one really knew the truth. Later the real robber was caught, but by then the innocent man had been pushed into a gunfight with Marshall Dillon and lost his life. It was too late to make things right and Marshall Dillon now had it on his conscience.  

It made me think about how quickly people can harm someone’s good name, and how once a rumor starts, it can lead to real hurt.

So my resolution for today is: to be careful with my words and to pray for people instead of ever judging them on hearsay.

Mini rested her head on my knee, almost like she understood.

Love, Kathy

Love,

Kathy

Tuesday's Advent Resolution

Dear Diary,

This afternoon I opened my little Daily Meditation book and read the part that begins, “Grant that we may daily prove ourselves more worthy of it…” It said we should fight a good fight each day, even in small things. That made me think of being patient with chores, with Mini, and with myself.

It also said Our Blessed Mother helps us win these little battles, which made me feel peaceful.

The Resolution was to stay patient and faithful in daily trials. So here is my own simple one:

“Today I will try to be patient in every little thing and ask Mary to help me do what’s right.”

Love, Kathy