A Quiet Kind of Sadness

 

Dear Diary,

Today I think I understood something a little better, even though it made me feel sad.

When I said the prayer again—“O most holy and afflicted Virgin”—I started to feel why it sounds the way it does. It isn’t just words. It feels like kneeling right beside Our Lady while she stands at the Cross.

It says she watched the “agony of thy expiring Son” and that her whole life was full of sorrow, and I think that’s what I was feeling today—not just sadness, but a kind of love that hurts because it cares so much.

And when I said, “look down with a mother’s tenderness and pity on me,” I almost felt like I wanted her to see me and understand. Not just my little troubles, but that I want to love Jesus too, even when it’s hard or sad.

The part that stayed with me the most was when it said she “drank so deeply of the chalice” of Jesus’ suffering. That means she didn’t turn away. She stayed. And maybe that’s what we are doing right now in Lent—staying with Him, even when it hurts our hearts.

I think my sadness today was not just being sad… it was being close.

Close to Jesus.

Close to Our Lady.

And maybe that’s why the Church lets us walk through all of this again, even though it’s already over—so we don’t forget how much love was in it.

I still whispered, “When will Easter come?”

But now I think… we are walking toward it together.

Tonight I will listen to my recording again and try to stay there quietly, not rushing away.

Evening Prayer:

O most holy and afflicted Virgin, help me to stay with you at the foot of the Cross, and to love Jesus even when my heart feels heavy. Amen.

Love,

Kathy

The Little Spruce and a Little Light at the End of the Day

Dear Diary,

Today Sister Mary Claire and I worked on planting the little dwarf Alberta spruce she bought at Christmas. We put it by the cave entrance, high above the creek water where the ground is safe, with rich fertile silt left there long, long ago. I thought it was just the perfect place for it. Someday it may look like a little green guard standing at the door of the cave.

Shaggycoat was given very strict instructions to leave it alone. Sister made a hoop of chicken wire around it, just to help him remember. He watched us in a very serious way, as if he wanted to be part of the planting too, but we told him this was one bit of cave business he must not touch.

By evening I sat down quietly and copied the German version of St. Bernard’s Memorare. I worked slowly by lamplight, trying to make each word neat, and at the same time I was working on memorizing it too. The German sounds so different from the English prayer I already know by heart, but somehow it still feels the same inside, like Our Lady understands the love in it no matter what language it is said in. Sister Mary Claire said that was a lovely thing to notice, and I thought so too.

It felt like such a peaceful ending to the day, with the little spruce planted at the cave and the prayer spread out before me in my notebook. It truly seemed like a little light at the end of the day.

A Little Light at the End of the Day

Remember, O most gracious Virgin Mary, that it has never been known that anyone who fled to your protection, implored your help, or sought your intercession was ever left unaided.

With that trust in my heart, I come to you now.
I hurry to you like a child, and I stand before you, knowing I am weak, but hoping you will help me.

O dear Mother, please do not turn away from me.
Listen kindly to my little prayer, and hear me as I call to you from this world that can sometimes feel sad.

Help me in all my needs, now and always, and most of all when I need you the most.

O loving,

O gentle,

O sweet Mother Mary, stay close to me.

Amen.

A Little Light at the End of the Day

Dear Diary, 

Tonight, after everything had grown quiet, I sat on the edge of my bed with my little prayer book in my hands, and Mini curled up close beside me. The room felt soft and still, like it was just waiting for a prayer.

Sister Mary Claire came and sat with me, and we said the Memorare together—the English one I already know by heart. I didn’t even have to look down at the page, and it felt nice saying it so easily.

Then Sister showed me the old German page she had already translated for me, and we read that one too. I told her it sounded a lot different—but somehow it still felt the same.

Sister smiled and said it really is the same prayer. She explained that the Latin is the original, and the English one I know is a faithful translation, but the German one is a little fuller—like someone speaking more from the heart, adding tender words to stay longer with Our Lady.

I liked that very much.

When we read it again, I noticed the way it stretches out the prayer just a little, like it doesn’t want to hurry away. It felt warm and close, like sitting beside someone you love and not wanting to leave.

Mini lifted her head for a moment while we were reading, like she was listening too, and then she tucked herself closer into the blanket.

I told Sister I want to learn that version too—even though I already know the English one—because the German one sounds so beautiful, and I want to understand it more and more. She said that was a lovely idea, and that knowing both might help the prayer grow even deeper in my heart.

So tonight I made a little resolution:

I will try to memorize the German Memorare too, just a little at a time, and say it with love.

Before I turned out the light, I whispered the prayer again from memory, and it felt like a small light glowing in the dark—quiet and steady.

That’s what I want to call it:

A Little Light at the End of the Day.

Dear Mother Mary,

please stay close to me tonight,

and help me remember that I am never alone.

Amen.

Love, Kathy

Morning Offering with Mary

 

Dear Jesus,

You came down from Heaven to be close to us, and I love You for that.

Blessed Mother,

you believed God, and because of your yes, blessing came into the world.

Please help me to believe like you do.


Hail Mary…

you are full of grace, and the Lord is with you.

Blessed are you, and blessed is Jesus, your Son,

who made everything and loves us so much.

Holy Mary, Mother of God,

please pray for me now,

and when it is time for me to go to Heaven.

Dear Mother Mary,

help me stay close to Jesus,

help me see what is right,

and take away anything that pulls me from Him.


And one day,

please take my hand

and lead me safely to Heaven.

Amen.

Recording Omni Die

Dear Diary, 

Tonight felt extra special. After supper, Sister Mary Claire and I sat close together at the table with the little tape recorder she found at the thrift store. Mini was curled up nearby, watching us with her soft eyes, like she knew something important was happening.

Sister helped me with the words from that old German book—the St. Marien-Buch. The pages are a little yellow and worn, but the prayers feel so alive, like they’ve been loved for a very long time. She told me the hymn is called Omni die, which is Latin. She said it means “every day,” and I liked that very much because it feels like something I can do—love Our Blessed Mother every single day.

It also made me think how people long ago were saying these same words, maybe in little churches or by candlelight, and now I was saying them here at our table.

I tried to read slowly and gently, just like Sister said, so it would sound nice when I played it back. I got a little nervous at first, but then I imagined Our Blessed Mother listening, and it made me feel calm again.

Mini stayed so still the whole time, only giving a tiny sigh once, like she was resting in the prayer too.

When I finished, I pressed the stop button and we listened to it together. My voice sounded small, but kind of sweet too. Sister smiled at me and said it was just right.

I think I like this little recorder very much. It feels like a way to keep prayers safe, like tucking them into a box to listen to again later.

Dear Blessed Mother, please help me love you every day, just like the hymn says, and stay close to Jesus always.

Love, Kathy

Before Bed with Bishop Barron

 

Dear Dairy,

Before bed, Sister Mary Claire and I listened to Bishop Barron’s homily together, and Mini curled up nearby like she was listening too. The part that stayed with me most was that Jesus wept. Sister said it shows how tender His Heart is, and how He does not stay far off from our sorrow.

She told me that sometimes Jesus seems to wait, but that does not mean He is absent. He is still loving us and working, even when we do not understand. I liked that very much.

Tonight I want to remember that Jesus comes close to us in our sadness, and that He can bring life even into the hardest places.

Dear Jesus, help me trust You always. Bless Sister Mary Claire, Mini, and our home tonight. Amen.

Love, Kathy

Reggie and My Tape Recorder

Dear Diary,

Tonight after supper, Sister Mary Claire sat with me and read a story from a very old little book called True Stories for First Communicants. She told me it was first published in 1949, and as she read, I held my new tape recorder very carefully and decided I would make a recording of it all by myself. I wanted to keep the story just the way she read it.

Here is what I recorded:

 

TRUE STORIES FOR FIRST COMMUNICANTS published in 1949.

REGGIE

A few years ago in a large convent school you might have seen a happy band of children getting ready for their First Holy Communion. Such little mites they looked, nine boys and seven girls, the youngest only six, the eldest eight years old. Though they were so young they were very much in earnest, all trying to fill their hearts with beautiful flowers for Little Baby Jesus. Day after day they would come running in to tell Sister of some fresh flower just added to the rest. It would be: “Sister, I gave a penny to a poor boy coming to school!” or: “Sister, I turned the rope three times instead of jumping,” or a fidgety little mite would say: “Sister, I never looked round once the whole lesson,” and so on, each wanting Sister to know how much he or she was trying.

The First Communion Day was to be on the 25th of March, the beautiful Feast of the Annunciation. Now all preparations were made. Each little soul had been washed in the Precious Blood of Our Dear Lord in Confession the day before, and the great morning of the 25th had come. Such a beautiful spring morning it was. One by one the children arrived, the little girls in their white dresses with their snowy veils and wreaths of roses on their heads, and the little boys in nice suits. As they came in, each sat quietly in a little chair in class, until all were ready. One little lad, in changing his shoes, had soiled his fingers and asked if he might go and wash them. “I couldn’t go to Holy Communion with dirty fingers, could I, Sister?” he said as he went. Alas! how little Sister or he thought what that little act would cost him.

As he was washing his fingers he spied a little cup just beside the basin. Without a thought he filled it to the brim and took a long refreshing drink, then, running quickly back to the others he sat down contentedly in his chair. Two minutes later there was a knock at the door. Sister was wanted. One of the servants was there; she came to say she thought—she wasn’t sure, but she thought—she had caught sight of one of the little gentlemen taking a drink of water. Sister’s heart sank within her. Could it be true? Returning to the children she said quietly: “Did any little boy forget and take a drink of water?”

Poor little Reggie! In an instant it flashed into his mind what he had done. With the remembrance came the temptation not to tell, but it was only for a moment. No, he would be brave. White as his little suit, and trembling from head to foot, he looked up at the Sister. “Oh, Sister, I did—I never thought. Oh, Sister, what can I do?” Tenderly drawing the child to her side Sister tried to comfort him, telling him that he need only wait till to-morrow. But the poor little fellow seemed quite stunned, unable to realise what it all meant.

Then they went up to chapel in procession. Reggie knelt beside Sister. What were his thoughts as he knelt there in that beautiful chapel, watching the priest and listening to the sweet singing? Presently the bell rang for the Elevation. Then the children made aloud their short “Acts before Holy Communion.” The longed-for moment had at last arrived. Slowly and reverently the little ones went up to the altar rails—all but Reggie. Only then did the truth really dawn upon him—Baby Jesus could not come into his heart. All would receive Him, only he would be left out. Poor little Reggie, he burst into passionate sobs, startling all in the chapel. He was obliged to be taken out that the others might not be disturbed.

All that day he joined with the others in their games and amusements. Such a sad little face he looked among the others whose hearts were overflowing with peace and happiness.

But the next morning very early, when all his little companions of the day before were still in bed, Reggie’s father and mother brought him once more to the convent. No music and singing to be heard to-day. All the music was in Reggie’s heart as at last Baby Jesus entered it for the first time. How much he had to tell Him—all about the long weeks of preparation and then about the bitter disappointment of the day before. But how happy he was now, and how quickly the moments flew.

“I had to finish talking to Jesus all the way out of chapel!” he said. But I don’t think he or his little companions could ever forget that they must be “fasting from midnight.”

After I finished recording, I just sat very still. Sister said Reggie loved Jesus so much that even when he made a mistake, he told the truth right away. I think Jesus must have been very close to him.

I held my little tape recorder and imagined that maybe someday someone else might listen to this and love Jesus more too.

Evening Prayer

Dear Jesus, please help me to be brave like Reggie and always tell the truth. Stay close to me, especially when I come to You. I want my heart to be ready for You always.

Love,

Kathy