Light in My Little Grotto

Dear Diary,

All morning I could hardly settle myself because Chapter Nine was waiting for me. I wanted to read it in the cave — in my own little grotto — where the words about Lourdes seem to breathe better somehow.

It was still a chilly 27 degrees, so I bundled up in my coat and wool cap and filled a small sack with sticks. As I walked the worn path toward the cave, I imagined I was like little Bernadette along the Gave River, gathering bits of wood before she ever knew Heaven would touch that rocky place. The cold made it feel almost real — as if something important might happen.

Inside, the cave was quiet and gray with winter light. I knelt and set the sticks into the small stove Robert installed last fall. I’m so thankful for that stove. Soon the fire caught, and a soft crackling began, warming the stones and my stiff fingers. Mini curled close beside it, her little red-and-white body tucked neatly, ears alert but peaceful.

Then I opened Chapter Nine.

This was the chapter where the Lady appears in such splendor. The book described her standing above the grotto rock, clothed in white that seemed to shine without hurting the eyes, a blue girdle at her waist, and a rosary of white beads falling from her hands. The light around her was gentle but glorious — not like sunlight, but something purer. I could almost see it flickering against the stone walls of my own cave.

When the book said Bernadette fell to her knees in awe, I felt my own heart kneel. I looked up at the rough stone ceiling of our cave and imagined that same holy brightness filling it. For a moment, the firelight danced along the rocks, and I thought how easily Heaven could choose a poor, simple place to show its beauty.

Mini lifted her head and looked at me as if she sensed the quiet had grown deeper.

I thought about how Our Lady chose a little girl, not a queen or scholar. She chose a cold grotto, not a palace. That makes me feel that perhaps she does not mind my small cave along Indian Creek. Perhaps she even smiles at it.

When the light outside began to fade, I closed the book slowly. I pressed it to my chest and thanked Our Lady for coming to Bernadette — and for letting me read about it here, beside a little stove in Iowa.

Tonight I prayed this:

Evening Prayer to Our Lady of Lourdes

Dear Blessed Mother of Lourdes,

You who stood in light above the rocky grotto, please stand quietly in my heart tonight.
Make my soul simple like Bernadette’s, bright with faith even in cold and ordinary places.
Help me to pray the Rosary as you held it in your gentle hands.

Watch over Mini, Sister, and our little farm, and keep us close to your Son, Jesus.

Amen.

Love,

Kathy 💙

Begin Reading Our Lady of Lourdes Today. . .