This morning it was 22 degrees, and the cold felt sharp the minute we stepped outside. Sister Mary Claire and I hurried through chores and then came back in to warm up. While the kettle was starting to sing, I opened Aunt Zora’s recipe box again. I love that box—how it smells like old paper and cinnamon and the kind of cooking that means someone cared.
Tucked between the index cards was a little recipe card, but it wasn’t for food at all. It was one of those “Daily Thoughts” cards, and it even had a St. Thérèse scapular with a felt backing taped on it, like Aunt Zora wanted to be able to hold it close and remember it with her hands as well as her mind. The words on the card said:
“I wish so much to love Jesus to love Him as He has never yet been loved.”
I read it twice, because it sounded so big—like a mountain. But then I thought maybe St. Thérèse wasn’t asking for big, showy things. Maybe she was asking for love that is real, and steady, and small enough to live inside an ordinary day.
Robert picked us up right on time, and in no time at all we were listening to Father LeRoy’s homily which followed today’s meditation, and it fit so perfectly with that little card that it felt like Jesus was pointing at it. Father said loving Jesus isn’t mostly loud words or grand gestures. He said the truest love is often hidden—like a good ingredient in a recipe that makes everything better even if nobody sees it. He called it the “Little Way,” and he said it means choosing love in the small place you’re standing in: in your chores, in your patience, in your speech, in the way you treat the people God has put right beside you.
Right then, Sister Mary Claire noticed my hands were cold and tugged my mitten down snug. I thought, St. Thérèse would call that a “little way” kind of love—quiet and real. And something in me settled, because I understood it better: loving Jesus as He hasn’t been loved yet can start with being gentle and careful in the moment I’m living—not the moment I wish I was living.
All day I kept thinking of that little scapular on its felt backing—soft, simple, and close. It made me want my love to be like that too: not fancy, not noisy, but warm and true. When I had a chance to be impatient, I tried to swallow it down. When I had a chance to be kind, I tried not to wait. Even Mini seemed to be practicing the “little way,” following close and watching everything with her serious helper face.
Tonight I’m putting Aunt Zora’s card back where it belongs, but I’m keeping the words in my heart. I want to love Jesus on purpose—in little ways that only He might notice, and that’s enough.
Evening Prayer:
Sweet Jesus, teach me St. Thérèse’s little way. Help me to love You quietly and truly, and to be gentle with the people You place right near me. Keep me faithful in small things, and help me begin again quickly when I fail. Amen.
Love, Kathy
