It was 30 degrees this morning, the kind of cold that makes everything feel extra plain and honest. Before Holy Mass, I sat quiet for a little while and let my mind go straight to the old garage in the grove. I know it’s rough and weathered, but I can’t help fixing it up in my thoughts—like daydreaming can make a place warmer.
I kept “seeing” it the way I’d like it to be: the doors snug, the little bed tucked in right, the stove placed safely, the calendar on the wall like a soft light. It was as if I already had the blueprint in my head, folded up neat as a letter.
When Robert picked us up for church, I decided to be brave and ask him if it might be possible—someday—to fix the garage a little. Not make it fancy, just make it sound and safe, like a real little hideaway. Robert listened like he always does, like nothing is too silly to say out loud.
At Mass, Father LeRoy spoke about the meditation—the poverty of Jesus in the crib. He said the Lord who owns everything chose straw and cold and littleness, and that it wasn’t an accident. He wanted to teach us to love what is simple, and to hold our hearts free from too many wants. When Father said that, I thought again of the old garage and how the best part of it isn’t comfort at all—it’s how it reminds me of Bethlehem, and how Jesus did not ask for much, only love.
All day I have been trying to remember that. If I feel a little pinch of cold, or if something feels inconvenient, I want to offer it quietly to Jesus like a tiny gift—like placing it at His feet in the manger.
Evening Resolution
Today I will try to choose the simpler thing without complaining, and I will offer one little privation to Jesus with love.
Love, Kathy.
Meditation source (Jan 4): “Poverty of Jesus in the Crib.”
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