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 

The First Recording of Spring

Dear Diary,

Today felt like a little miracle—47 degrees on the very first day of Spring! The snow is finally giving up, and the air didn’t bite my cheeks the way it has for so long. It almost felt like the world was taking a deep breath again.

But the very best part of today was what Sister Mary Claire brought home from the thrift store. She found an old tape recorder—with a whole box of unused reels—and guess what? She gave them to me. All of them. Just like that.

I could hardly believe it.

We set it on the table, and when I pressed the buttons and saw the reels begin to turn, it felt like something very important was happening. Like my words could be kept safe and remembered. Sister said I could use it for prayers, or readings, or even my diary if I wanted.

So I made my very first recording.

I was a little nervous at first, but then I began with my morning prayer, just like always:

“I will begin and end each day with Jesus and Mary in my heart…”

As I said the words out loud, it felt different—stronger somehow. Like I wasn’t just thinking them, but really giving them to Jesus. I imagined Him right there, close to me, listening in that quiet, loving way of His. And I thought of Mary too, so gentle, helping me keep my thoughts where they belong.

I told them both that I want to stay close. That I don’t want to forget.

Maybe if I keep saying these prayers—maybe even recording them—my heart will start to feel more like theirs… full of love and peace.

Mini sat nearby the whole time, watching me like she knew something special was happening. Her little ears were perked up, and she didn’t even try to play.

Tonight I feel so happy and thankful. Like I’ve been given a little way to hold onto something good.

Evening Prayer

Dear Jesus, thank You for this beautiful first day of Spring, and for the gift of this recorder. Help me to use my words for You, and to keep You and Mary always in my heart. Please make my heart gentle and loving like Yours. Amen.

Love,

Kathy

The Thaw and the Thorn-Crowned King

Dear Diary,

This morning I woke up to the sound of water dripping from the roof. It wasn’t snow anymore, but a soft, steady dripping, like everything was slowly letting go. Sister Mary Claire said it was already 36 degrees, and it felt almost like a promise that spring was near.

Mini lifted her head and listened with me, her ears stretched out like little airplane wings. The whole farm felt quieter, but also alive again.

Before getting ready for Church, I went out to gather the eggs from the chicken coop. Long icicles hung from the roof, and drops of water fell one by one. When I opened the door, the hens hurried out to see the warmer weather, all curious and stepping into the slushy ground. They clucked and wandered just a little ways, like they were testing it.

Since they were so busy exploring, I just left them be after gathering eggs and went back in to get ready for Church.

Robert picked us up as usual and right on time on his way to Church. The roads were wet and slushy, and his truck made that familiar crunching sound. He said it felt good to be out again after the storm, and I think we all felt the same.

At St. Mary’s, everything seemed especially peaceful. It felt like coming home after being away.

In his homily, Father LeRoy spoke about the Crowning with Thorns. He said that Jesus didn’t just suffer pain, but also allowed Himself to be mocked and treated like nothing, and that He accepted it all out of love. He said sometimes the hardest thing is when our hearts are hurt, not just our bodies.

On the way home, Robert said he never thought about how much of it was done just to make fun of Jesus, and that it must have been a deep kind of hurt. Sister Mary Claire nodded and said that the crown of thorns was offered for all the pride and selfishness in the world.

When we got home, Sister explained it more simply to me. She said Jesus wore that crown to take away our pride, especially the kind that hides inside our thoughts and feelings. She told me that when I feel hurt or unnoticed, I can remember Him standing there so quietly, not pushing anything away.

She said loving Him means letting go of those feelings and trusting Him instead.

Right now Mini is curled up beside me, warm and sleepy, and everything feels good.

Evening Prayer

Dear Jesus,

When I think of Your crown of thorns, help me to be gentle and humble in my heart.
When I feel hurt or forgotten, remind me of Your quiet love.
Teach me to offer You even the smallest things with patience.

Help me to love You more each day.

All for Jesus,

Love, Kathy.