The Last Day of the Year

Dear Diary,

The cold spell is still hanging on like it has a claim on us. The windows looked all frosty again this morning, and even the floors felt extra hard on my feet. But Sister Mary Claire said, “We’ll begin the last day of the year the right way,” and she did.

First off was breakfast, and it was so good it felt like a little feast. Sister made hot ham and egg sandwiches with mayo and butter lettuce. And the best part was how she grilled the buns—she put a bit of soft butter on the inside of each one and pressed them down in the frying pan until they turned warm and toasty and just perfect. The kitchen smelled like comfort. I kept thinking, If the whole year could taste like this, it would be a fine year indeed.

All day, that line from the meditation stayed in my mind: “Work whilst it is day.” It didn’t make me feel scared exactly… it made me feel awake. Like the year is a gift and you’re supposed to notice it, and use it, and not just let it slide by like water under the ice.

We went to Evening Mass, bundled up tight. The air out there bit at our cheeks, and the sky looked pale and serious, like it knew what day it was. At church, Father LeRoy talked about year’s end—how we can’t go back and fix yesterday, but we can bring it to God, and start again with more love and more attention. He said that when we stand before Jesus someday, it won’t be our big talk that matters, but our daily duties done with faith—our kindness, our patience, our prayers, and our little sacrifices.

On the way home, I thought about the past year like the meditation said—both the blessings and the hard parts. I thought about how God fed us in so many ways, and how many times He helped me when I didn’t even know I needed it. And I also thought about my faults. I don’t want to be lazy with my heart. I don’t want to waste days.

Tonight the house is quiet, and it feels like 1956 is packing its little suitcase and standing at the door. I’m sad to say goodbye, but also kind of hopeful, like the Lord is giving me a clean page.

So… good-bye, dear diary, for 1956.

New Year’s Resolution

In 1957, I will do my duties right away, without complaining, and I will offer them to Jesus with special fervor and zeal—especially when I don’t feel like it. And I will say a small prayer before I begin my work, so I remember who I’m working for.

Good night, dear Diary.