Today’s Meditation was about Simeon’s prophecy, and Father LeRoy said Jesus is our Light, and that Mary would have sorrow too, like a sword in her heart. It made me feel quiet inside, like when you know something is holy and serious.
After supper it was already evening-dark, and the snow was still falling thick and soft. I bundled up and walked out to the little cabin to be sure everything was snug for the night. Inside, I lit the lamp just long enough to check things, and the warm glow fell across the crucifix on the wall.
Then I hurried back toward the house.
But halfway across the yard, I stopped.
The cabin window was shining. I had left the lamp on.
So I turned back to shut it off—of course I did—but when I reached the cabin I didn’t go straight in. I don’t know why. I just felt called back to the window first, like the Lord wanted my attention for one small, quiet moment.
I pressed my mitten to the cold glass. Snow speckled the pane and swirled in front of my face, but inside the little room the lamp burned steady and warm, and the crucifix was there on the wall.
And then it felt like a dream for a moment—like everything got still, and my heart knew what it needed to say.
So I whispered, very simple:
“Jesus, I love you and I want to do Your will.”
Then I opened the door, stepped into the cabin, and turned the lamp off. When I turned back toward the house, it seemed like the snow had eased up all at once. I heard Sister Mary Claire calling my name from the porch, and right then I caught the sweetest smell—fresh baked cookies—warm and buttery in the cold air. It felt like the world was saying, Come home now.
My resolution: I will try to obey quickly in the small things.
Evening prayer: Jesus, keep my heart willing. Mary, help me stay close to your Son. Amen.
Love, Kathy.
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