“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