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