“Food for Thought and Whipped Cream”

Click on Mini to Enlarge

Dear Diary,

This morning Robert picked us up as usual and right on time in the pickup, with the cold still holding tight to the fields. Sister Mary Claire and I sat close together, and Mini stood with her paws braced, ears alert, like she always does when she knows we’re going to church. I hadn’t read today’s meditation yet, so I didn’t quite know what to expect, but I had a feeling it would be a serious one.

Father LeRoy’s homily turned out to be a lot of food for thought. He spoke about how Jesus asks us not just to listen, but to let His words change us, even when they unsettle us or make us see ourselves more clearly than we might like. Father said the Lord isn’t trying to confuse us—He’s trying to draw us deeper, past easy answers and into trust. That made me sit very still in the pew. I kept thinking about how often I want things explained neatly, when maybe Jesus wants me to sit with the question instead.

On the ride home, I told Sister and Robert that my head felt full, like when you’ve read something important but don’t quite know yet what to do with it. Robert said that was probably a good sign. Sister helped by putting it into simpler words, saying that Jesus was asking for honesty of heart more than clever thoughts. Mini leaned against my leg the whole way, which somehow made everything feel steadier.

When we got home, Sister invited Robert in for coffee, and he stayed for a piece of mincemeat pie with fresh whipping cream. The kitchen felt warm and kind, and it was nice to hear everyone talking easily again. Mini sat very politely and was rewarded with a small dollop of whipping cream, which she accepted as if it were a great honor. It felt like one of those days where thinking hard and resting gently both belonged together.

I am grateful for days like this.

Evening Prayer

Dear Jesus, thank You for Your words, even when they stretch my thinking and my heart. Thank You for Father LeRoy helping me understand, and for Sister and Robert helping me feel peaceful again. Help me keep what You taught me today and live it quietly and faithfully. Please bless our home and everyone who shared our table. Amen.

Love, Kathy

“Trusting Jesus When the Path Is Slippery”

Dear Diary,

This morning Robert picked us up as usual and right on time — in his pickup, with the heater working hard against the February cold. Sister Mary Claire and I climbed in together, and Mini wiggled herself into our little bundle like she belonged there most of all. The road felt rough and frozen, and I held my prayer book close, thinking about today’s meditation and how Jesus kept calling His apostles back to trust—back to remembering that God provides, even when we feel small and worried.

At Mass, Father LeRoy’s homily fit right into that. He spoke about how easy it is to look at what we don’t have—strength, answers, clear paths—and forget how many times the Lord has already carried us. Father said that when Jesus speaks like that, it isn’t scolding so much as it is love: like He’s trying to lift our chin so we’ll look up again. While he talked, I found myself glancing toward the tabernacle and wishing I could hold on tighter to that kind of trust, the kind that doesn’t shake the minute something turns hard.

And that is exactly what I felt after Mass, because my thoughts went straight to the creek and the cave. The slope down to it is steep, and now it’s a mean mix of mud and ice, the kind that tricks your boots. I kept worrying that I won’t be able to visit Shaggycoat—my beaver friend—or the cave for a while, and it made my chest feel tight, like I was being kept away from something safe and dear. But then Father’s words came back to me: the Lord provides, even when the way is closed for a time. Maybe this is one of those days when trusting Jesus means staying put, even when my heart wants to hurry down a slippery hill.

This afternoon I kept picturing the sun softening everything little by little, and I asked Jesus to help me be patient. If He can hold the whole world in His care, He can surely hold Shaggycoat and our secret place too, until it’s safe again.

Evening Prayer

Dear Jesus, thank You for bringing me to Mass today and for Father LeRoy’s words that helped me remember Your care. Help me trust You when I feel disappointed or worried, and keep me from rushing into danger just because I miss the cave. Please watch over Shaggycoat by the creek, and keep the slope safe until I can visit again. Stay with me tonight and teach my heart to rest in You. Amen.

Love, Kathy

The Circling Year

“Holding Close to the Sacred Heart”

Dear Diary,

This morning the air was 26 degrees, and everything outside felt like it had been held still by a quiet hand. The ground was frozen hard, and even the weeds by the fence looked stiff and silvered. It made me feel peaceful, because it meant there would be no muddy footprints in Church — not mine, and not Mini’s either. She stepped along like a little careful soldier, neat and proper, as if she understood that today was meant to be clean and solemn.

In Church, the world seemed softer. The candles flickered like tiny steady stars, and the hush in the pews felt like a blanket laid over everyone’s shoulders. When Father LeRoy began his homily, his voice didn’t feel like it was only filling the air — it felt like it was reaching down inside me, like a bell that keeps ringing even after you can’t see it swinging anymore.

He spoke about Jesus at the Last Supper, and about the apostles — His own friends — and how He knew they would be afraid. Father said Jesus didn’t stop loving them because they were weak. He looked at them with truth in His eyes, and still He stayed with them. Still He fed them. Still He prayed for them.

And then… I don’t know how to explain it, but I sort of floated away inside my thoughts. It was like I was sitting in the pew, and also somewhere else at the same time.

I could see it — a room lit in gentle shadows, a long table, and Jesus there, not harsh, not angry, but serious in a way that is almost more tender than smiling. His hand lifted as He spoke, like He was trying to gather their hearts back to Him before the night scattered them. The apostles leaned in, troubled and slow to understand, like men who can feel a storm coming but don’t know where to stand.

And in my imagination, Sister Mary Claire and I were across the room, holding on to each other, and I was hanging onto Mini too — the three of us watching, quiet as can be. I felt a little shiver in my heart, not from cold, but from how real it seemed: Jesus loving them so much, and still warning them, because love doesn’t pretend the hard things aren’t coming.

Father’s homily made me wonder about my own bravery. Not the brave that runs toward danger like in storybooks… but the brave that stays close. The brave that keeps loving. The brave that doesn’t disappear when things get frightening inside.

Could I be strong?

Could I be faithful?

Could I stay near Jesus when it would be easier to drift away like smoke?

Tonight, when the house got quiet, I kept thinking of that table and that look on His face. And I decided I’m going to keep my Sacred Heart badge close to me — right on my bedside table — so when I wake up and when I fall asleep, I’ll remember that Jesus is near, and He wants my heart to stay with His.

Evening Prayer:

Dear Jesus,

When I am weak, please be my strength.

When I feel afraid, please be my courage.

Let me stay close to You like a little lamp that won’t blow out.

Teach my heart to be faithful — not all at once, but day by day,

until I can love You bravely.

Amen.

Love,

Kathy 💙

Mailbox Pickup & Jesus Prays for Us

Dear Diary,

The yard was muddy today, so Robert picked us up at the mailbox for evening Mass.

Mini came too, of course. She acted like muddy paws were part of her job, and she sat there on her towel looking proud, ears alert, like she was guarding us all the way to church.

At Mass, Father LeRoy based his homily on today’s meditation about Jesus’ pontifical prayer—how Jesus prayed to His Father for His followers. Father said Jesus wasn’t asking that we be taken out of the world, but that we be protected from the spirit of it.

He explained that the “spirit of the world” is when comfort, attention, and getting our own way starts to matter more than God. Father told us Jesus wants our hearts to stay simple and clean—full of faith, hope, and love—and ready to turn away from sin, even from the shadow of it.

Then Father spoke about how Jesus also prayed that we may be one—one family in the Church, one heart and one soul—because our Head is Jesus, and He desires peace and love among His people.

Father said unity doesn’t start with big speeches. It starts with little choices: gentle words, quick forgiveness, doing our duties without dragging our feet, and not stirring up trouble where peace should live.

When we came home, I kept thinking how sweet it is that Jesus actually prayed for us like that—so carefully, so lovingly—before He suffered. It made me want to answer His prayer by trying harder tomorrow.

Evening Prayer

Dear Jesus, thank You for praying for me. Please guard my heart from the world’s proud spirit. Make me love what You love, and help our home and our parish be one—peaceful, faithful, and kind. Amen.

Love,

Kathy

Muddy Mini and Careful Steps

 
Dear Diary,

At Mass, Father LeRoy based his homily on today’s meditation—Jesus’ great prayer before His Passion. Father said Jesus knew His hardest hour was coming, and still He lifted His eyes to the Father and prayed—first to do the Father’s will, and then for His own, because He loves us and wants us kept close to God. Father explained that trusting Jesus isn’t only for bright, easy days. It’s for the days that feel slippery and mixed-up too—when you can’t go where you want, and you have to take careful steps and simply do the next right thing. He said if Jesus could pray with such love on the night before His suffering, then we can offer Him our little troubles and stay close to Him instead of getting fretful.

By afternoon the warm-up really came, and that’s when everything turned messy. The snow went soft and shiny and then it all started to melt at once, and the yard looked like it couldn’t decide if it was winter or spring. Sister told me to stay put except for the chicken house, because the path to the cave was steep and slick and too risky to walk.

Mini, though, had other ideas. She started down the way toward the cave like she was on an important mission, and before I could call her back she slipped and rolled in the soft mud—one whole little tumble, ears and paws and all. That settled it: the cave was officially off limits until things dry up.

Evening Prayer:

Sweet Jesus, thank You for being with me today. When my plans get stopped and everything feels messy, help me to trust You and do the next right thing with a peaceful heart. Keep Sister Mary Claire, Father LeRoy, and our little farm safe tonight, and let Mini rest easy after her warm bath. Amen.




Love,

Kathy

Take, O Lord, Even This Cold Morning

Dear Diary,

This morning felt almost friendly compared to the last few days. It warmed up to 30 degrees, which still sounds cold on paper, but it made such a difference. Everything outside was frozen solid—the ground hard as a board, the water pails crusted over, and the fence rails rimmed with ice—but at least the air was breathable. I didn’t feel like my lungs were cracking when I took a deep breath. Mini stood beside me with her ears up, sniffing the cold like she was checking to see if winter was finally behaving itself.

After a bit, Robert picked us up as usual and right on time. Mini came too, of course, sitting nice and steady like she knows church rides are important business. The truck was still chilly inside, but it warmed as we went along, and it felt good just knowing we were headed to Mass. Sister Mary Claire was quiet, holding the meditation, and I hadn’t read it yet—I just watched the frosty fields go by and wondered what Jesus might ask of me today.

At church, Father LeRoy’s homily followed the meditation so closely it felt like he was answering the thoughts I didn’t even know how to say yet. He talked about how the prayer “Take, O Lord” isn’t only about giving Jesus the nice parts—our prayers, our good intentions, or the things we’re proud of—but also the cold, stiff parts of our days. He said we can offer Him our tiredness, our impatience, the chores we do when we don’t feel like it, and even the parts of ourselves that still feel frozen. Father said Jesus doesn’t ask us to warm ourselves up first; He asks us to hand everything over, trusting that He knows what to do with it. Sitting there, I thought about the frozen ground outside and how spring will soften it without the earth doing anything at all.

Tonight, as the house settled and the cold pressed against the windows again, I tried to remember that. I don’t have to fix everything before I give it to Jesus. I can just give it.

Evening Prayer

Sweet Jesus,

Take, O Lord, all that I am today—my small efforts, my cold hands, my wandering thoughts, and even the parts of my heart that feel stiff and slow. Teach me to trust You with everything, not just the easy things. Warm what is frozen in me, and help me rest in knowing that You will make something good of it all. Amen.

Love, Kathy

Staying Close to Jesus

Dear Diary,

Robert picked us up as usual and right on time. Sister Mary Claire and I hurried out with Mini, and she hopped in like she’d been waiting for this ride all morning, sitting up nice and proper with her ears alert.

At Mass, Father LeRoy explained that today’s meditation was from Jesus’ words at the Last Supper, when He tells us to abide in His love, and that His joy can be in us, and our joy can be full. Father said “abide” means stay close, like staying near the light when it’s dark, or staying near someone you trust when you feel small. He told us Jesus isn’t offering a quick happy feeling—He’s offering His own deep joy, the kind that comes from living inside His love.

Father LeRoy said the way we stay in that love is by keeping Jesus’ commandments, not like chores we dread, but like loving paths that keep our hearts joined to His. And he said this fits so perfectly with the Eucharist, because Jesus didn’t only talk about love—He stayed with us. He remains in the tabernacle, and He comes to us in Holy Communion, so we can truly remain with Him. Father said every time we come to Mass, we are answering Jesus’ invitation: “Stay with Me. Remain in My love.”

I tried to listen extra carefully, because I don’t want Jesus to offer me His love and joy and have me act like it’s not a big deal. On the ride home, Sister Mary Claire spoke softly about how obeying Jesus isn’t meant to feel like fear—it’s meant to feel like love. Little things, like being patient when chores take longer than I want, or being gentle when somebody is tired, are ways to stay close to Jesus all day.

Tonight, when it got quiet, I remembered Father saying that joy grows when we remain—when we keep coming back to Jesus instead of drifting off. So tomorrow I’m going to try to do my duties with a willing heart, and when I start to feel crabby or hurried, I’ll whisper, “Jesus, help me abide in Your love.”

Evening Prayer:

Dear Jesus, thank You for inviting me to abide in Your love. Please help me stay close to You all day, not just at Church. Teach me to keep Your commandments with love, and to find my joy in You. Help me be kind and patient, even in small hidden ways. Jesus, let Your joy be in me, and make my joy full. Amen.

Love,

Kathy