Today the thermometer said minus 10 degrees, and the wind acted like it was trying to boss the whole world around. It shoved the snow into little whirlwinds that skittered across the yard and smacked the window panes like handfuls of dry cornmeal. Mini kept popping up and spinning in circles, sure that surely we were going out to check the chickens anyway. She sat by the door with her ears up like airplane wings and that serious “I can do chores” face—until Sister Mary Claire reminded her, “Mini, even a brave helper has to mind the weather,” as I put on my parka and scarf for the first trip to the hen house to collect eggs and warm the chickens’ drinking water.
Right after breakfast, the telephone rang, and it was Father LeRoy. His voice sounded kind but firm, the way it does when he’s trying to keep everyone safe. He told Sister that Church is cancelled again and asked her to help him call parishioners and tell them to stay indoors. Sister put on her calm, busy voice and started making calls, one right after another. I listened to her say the same careful words: “Please don’t try to come in—Father wants you safe. Pray at home today.” Every time she hung up, I could see she felt sad, because she loves when the little St. Mary’s family is all together.
When the calling was done, Sister and I sat close together and read Today’s Meditation about Jesus leaving Nazareth and how Mary knew the separation was coming and didn’t let tomorrow’s sorrow steal today’s duties. It said Mary kept Jesus’ words in her heart, and she didn’t get all twisted up with fearful thoughts—she accepted each day from God’s hand and prepared herself with a brave love. It said Mary wanted Jesus to begin His mission, even though it would hurt her, because she cared more about God’s work and other souls than her own comfort. And it spoke of Jesus, too—how hard it was for Him to leave the little home He loved, and how He knew it would pierce His Mother’s heart, yet He went anyway, for love.
It made me think of when Sister and I left Sioux City to come to Littlemore and help Father LeRoy with our little parish. Sioux City wasn’t Nazareth, and we aren’t Jesus and Mary (not even close), but I remember that feeling of stepping away from what is familiar. I remember how Sister tried to be cheerful for me, even when I could tell her heart felt squeezed. I even thought of the old Combination Bridge, crossing the Missouri River into Nebraska, and that clink-clank sound as the tires went over the iron rails—then Nebraska on the other side, like you’d stepped into a different world in one minute. But I pulled my thoughts back quickly to Jesus, because I could tell that whole bridge story is for another diary day.
And then—oh dear—I thought of St. Boniface school and how I had to leave my friends. I wondered what home schooling would be like way out in the country with Littlemore and just a handful of residents. Would it feel lonely? Would I miss the bell and the desks and the busy hallway sounds? Oh my!!! Sister must have noticed my face, because she touched my shoulder and said, “Kathy, God will not send us somewhere without also sending what we need.” That helped me breathe again.
Tonight, the house feels extra quiet—like the whole world is holding its breath in the snow. But the meditation helped me. It told me not to borrow tomorrow’s troubles, and to offer the little sacrifices of the day—cold feet, cancelled plans, being stuck inside—with Jesus and Mary, all is well.
Evening Prayer
O sweetest Jesus, keep our little parish safe tonight. Bless Father LeRoy as he watches over his people, and bless Sister as she serves with a brave and willing heart. Help me not to be fretful about tomorrow, but to do the duties You give me today with love. Please watch over Shaggycoat in his lodge, and over every creature in this bitter weather. And Mary, Mother of Sorrows, teach me to hold God’s words in my heart and to say “yes” when it is time to go where God calls. Amen.
Love, Kathy
No comments:
Post a Comment