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.

Wednesday - After the Blizzard

Dear Diary, 

This morning the blizzard was finally over, and everything looked so bright and still, like the whole world had been tucked in under a thick white quilt. The temperature was 34 degrees, and the snow had a heavy, wet feel to it. We waited and watched for the snowplow, but it came just a little too late for Church. Sister said it couldn’t be helped, and that sometimes God keeps us close to home for a reason.

Not long after, dear Robert came with his tractor and loader, just like he always does, and he cleared our driveway so we could at least move about again. The big scoop of the loader made such satisfying sounds pushing the snow aside, and Mini barked a little at it but stayed close to me.

The rest of the morning and into the afternoon, Sister Mary Claire and I worked together digging out paths and tidying up what the storm had left behind. My boots felt heavy with snow, and my cheeks got rosy from the cold, but it felt good to be outside again.

Later in the afternoon, we came in and warmed ourselves, and Sister read to me the meditation for today—The Scourging at the Pillar. She read slowly, and I could almost see it in my mind, Jesus standing there so quietly, even though He was hurt so badly.

Sister said that even though Jesus was completely innocent, He allowed Himself to be treated like the lowest of all, even like a slave, because of how much He loves us. She told me that sometimes love doesn’t look strong on the outside—it can look quiet and patient, like Jesus standing there without complaining.

She explained that when we think about His suffering, it should make our hearts feel sorry for our sins, but also very grateful, because He chose to go through all of it for us. She said that even the hard things we go through—like the cold, or being stuck at home, or when things don’t go our way—can be little ways to stay close to Him if we offer them up with love.

I kept thinking about how the meditation said His whole body was like one great wound, and how His Precious Blood fell to the ground. It made me feel very quiet inside. Sister said that when we feel that way, it means our hearts are listening.

She also said that Jesus didn’t have to suffer so much, but He chose to, so we would never doubt His love, and so we would have courage when we have our own troubles. She smiled and said, “When something is hard, Kathy, you can remember—Jesus has already gone much farther for you.”

Tonight I am trying to remember that when things feel uncomfortable or unfair, I can be patient and offer it to Jesus, just like He accepted everything with love.

Mini is already curled up, all warm and sleepy after our long day, and the house is quiet again after the storm.

Evening Prayer

Dear Jesus,

Thank You for loving me so much that You were willing to suffer for me.

Please help me to be patient when things are hard, and to remember Your love when I feel uncomfortable or tired.

Make my heart gentle and thankful, and help me to offer even little things to You with love.

I want to stay close to You always.

Amen.

Love,

Kathy

After the Blizzard

DearDiary, 

The blizzard let up today, but it is still very cold, only single digits, and the road hasn’t been cleared, so we stayed home again.

Mini sat by the window watching the snow drift and flicked her little ears when the wind stirred. Everything outside looks quiet and white, like the world is resting.

Sister Mary Claire and I read the meditation about Pilate. He asked, “What evil hath He done?” and still let Jesus be punished.

I asked Sister why he would do that if he knew Jesus was innocent.

She said softly, “Because he was afraid, Kathy. He wanted to please everyone instead of choosing what was right.”

That stayed with me. I thought about how sometimes even I know what is right but hesitate.

Sister said that Jesus stood there quietly and took everything with love. She told me that loving Him means trying to stay calm and patient, even when something feels unfair.

The chickens were all safe and tucked in, and Omelette looked content on her roost.

Tonight feels very still. Before bed, we prayed, and Sister said part of the Divine Office. It made everything feel peaceful, like the whole day was placed in God’s hands.

Evening Prayer

O my Jesus, help me to be brave and choose what is right. Teach me to be patient and quiet like You, and to trust You in all things.

Love,

Kathy

The Blizzard’s Last Hold

Dear Diary, 

The blizzard still has its grip on Camp Littlemore tonight. The thermometer outside the kitchen window read four degrees above zero, and the wind keeps sweeping the snow across the fields like white smoke. The radio says the storm is still moving through, but Sister Mary Claire smiled and told me that however long winter tries to hold on, spring is already right behind it.

This afternoon we read the meditation from The Circling Year about Pilate asking the crowd what he should do with Jesus. The people shouted so loudly, “Crucify Him!” that Pilate gave in, even though he knew Jesus had done nothing wrong. Sister said the saddest part was that Pilate knew the truth but did not have the courage to follow it.

I thought about that while the wind rattled the windows today. It must have been terrible for Jesus to stand there while everyone shouted against Him. Sister explained that the meditation teaches us not to be half-hearted like Pilate, but to choose what is right even when it is hard. She said Lent is a time to learn to carry our little crosses with Jesus.

Mini stayed close to the stove most of the afternoon, curled up in a tight little circle. When she did step outside she came right back in again, with snowflakes clinging to her whiskers. The chickens are tucked safely on their roost in the coop, and the drifts are piled high against the fence. Everything at Littlemore Farm is snug and quiet even though the storm is still racing across the fields.

Before supper we stood by the window and looked toward the road that leads to St. Mary’s, now completely hidden by the blowing snow. Sister reminded me that the people of the parish are probably all huddled safely in their homes tonight just like we are.

She said storms always look strongest right before they pass.

Tonight that made me think about the cross too. The crowd thought they had won when they shouted for Jesus to be crucified, but Sister said the cross was really the beginning of the greatest victory the world has ever known.

So even while the wind is howling tonight, I think spring must be getting ready somewhere just beyond this storm.

Evening Prayer

Dear Jesus,

You stood quietly before Pilate while the crowd shouted against You.

Please give me a brave heart so I will always choose what is right and stay close to You.

Watch over all the families of St. Mary’s parish tonight, and keep them warm and safe in this terrible blizzard. Protect the farmers, travelers, and anyone who may be caught out in the storm. Guard our little farm too, and keep the animals safe in their shelters.

And when this last winter storm finally passes, please help us remember that Your light is always stronger than the darkest wind or snow.

Amen.

Love,

Kathy

Fourth Sunday of Lent and Snowed-In

Dear Diary,

This morning the thermometer said 27 degrees, and the wind was howling so hard that the snow was flying sideways past the windows. The blizzard the radio warned about yesterday has truly come. The announcer said the roads are shut, and even Church was canceled for this Fourth Sunday of Lent. That hardly ever happens, but the snow is piling up in great drifts.

Still, all is well at Camp Littlemore Farm.

After chores and making sure the chickens had feed and fresh water in the coop, Sister Mary Claire and I decided we would have a little church right here at home. Sister set the radio on the table, and Mini curled up at our feet like she knew something important was happening.

We listened to Bishop Barron’s homily on the radio. He spoke about the story of the man born blind from the Gospel. Sister explained it to me afterward while the wind rattled the windows.

She said that the man in the story is meant to be all of us. We are born into a world that is sometimes dark because of cruelty and sin. It is like being born without sight. But then Jesus comes and says something wonderful: “I am the light of the world.”

Sister said that means Jesus doesn’t just teach us about light—He actually gives us light, helping us see what is good and true.

I looked out the window then. Everything was white with blowing snow, and it was hard to see very far at all. It made me think how easy it is to lose our way when we cannot see clearly. But if Jesus is the light, then even in a blizzard like today, we are not really lost.

Mini lifted her head when the radio finished and wagged her little bottom. I think she believed church was over.

Tonight the wind is still singing around the house, but inside it feels peaceful. I am thankful that even when the roads close and we cannot reach church, the light of Jesus still reaches us.

Evening Prayer

Dear Jesus,

You are the Light of the World.

Please shine your light into my heart so I may see what is right and good.

Help me never walk in darkness but always follow you.

Bless our little farm, Sister Mary Claire, Mini, and all those traveling in the storm tonight.

Amen.

Love, Kathy

The Day the Snow Came Sideways

Dear Diary,

Today it was 31 degrees, and the sky looked like it had something serious in mind. The radio said there was a winter storm watch, and before long the snow began flying sideways past the windows like little white birds that had lost their way. Sister Mary Claire looked out at it for a while and said it might be wiser to wait and go to Church tomorrow instead, when the storm might pass. I was glad she said that because the wind was howling so hard it rattled the old window frame.

Even though we stayed home, I kept thinking about today’s meditation called “Barabbas Is Preferred to Jesus.” Sister explained it to me at the table while the snow kept blowing harder and harder outside. She said it must have been very sad for Jesus to stand there so quietly while the people chose Barabbas, who was a criminal, instead of Him. Just a few days before they had shouted Hosanna and wanted Him to be their king, and then suddenly they changed their minds.

Sister said sometimes people can be like that when they forget God and start thinking more about themselves than about what is right. She told me the meditation is asking us a question in our hearts: Do we choose Jesus, or do we choose something else instead?

I sat there thinking about that for quite a while. Jesus stayed silent and humble even when people treated Him unfairly. Sister said His Heart was still praying the whole time. That made me feel a little ashamed because I sometimes complain when small things bother me.

Before supper I went out to the chicken coop to make sure the hens had plenty of food and water before the storm got any worse. The wind pushed the snow right across the yard and into my coat sleeves. The chickens were already tucked in on their roost, warm together above the straw and clucking softly in the dim light.

When I came back inside, I brushed the snow from my coat and boots and warmed my hands by the stove while Mini stayed close beside me, happy to be back in the warmth.

As the snow kept sweeping across the yard, I thought again about the crowd choosing Barabbas instead of Jesus. I hope that when my own little choices come during the day, I will remember to choose Jesus and stay faithful to Him.

Dear Jesus,

I am sorry for the times I choose my own way instead of Yours.

Help me to be faithful and not change like the crowd did.

Teach my heart to love You more than anything else, and to stay close to You even when it is difficult. Amen.

P.S. I checked the chicken house one more time before dark, and Omelette was tucked safely on her roost between two other hens. She gave a soft little cluck when she saw me, as if to say everything was just fine in there despite the storm.

Love,

Kathy ✧

The Silent Road to Church

Dear Diary,

Robert could not pick us up for Church this morning, so Sister Mary Claire and I walked. It was one of those bleak March days when winter does not seem quite ready to let go. The gravel road was wet and muddy in places, and the snow lay in thin patches across the fields. Mini trotted ahead of us, her little paws splashing through the puddles while the cold wind blew across the open land.

Sister Mary Claire held my hand as we walked along the road toward St. Mary’s. The sky was pale and gray, and the bare trees stood quietly on both sides of the road like they were waiting for spring.

While we walked, Sister began explaining today’s meditation about Jesus at the Court of Herod. She said that when Jesus was brought before Herod, the king asked Him many questions because he hoped to see a miracle. But Jesus did not answer him at all. Sister said Jesus could see that Herod’s heart was not sincere. He only wanted to satisfy his curiosity.

The road stretched ahead of us and everything was very quiet except for the sound of our boots on the wet gravel. Sister Mary Claire said that sometimes Jesus speaks to people many times through their conscience or through the advice of others, but if they keep ignoring Him, their hearts can grow hard. That is why Jesus remained silent before Herod.

Mini stopped for a moment and looked back at us as if she wanted to make sure we were still following her.

When we arrived at Church, Father LeRoy spoke about the same meditation in his homily. He said that when Herod mocked Jesus and dressed Him in a white garment, Jesus accepted the humiliation with patience. Father said that our pride often makes it hard to accept correction or even small embarrassments, but these little sufferings can help make our souls stronger if we offer them to God.

On the walk home the road looked even quieter than before. The gray sky and the bare trees made everything feel still, and I kept thinking about Jesus standing silently before Herod while people laughed at Him. The whole world must have seemed very cold and lonely then, yet He accepted it all for love of us.

Tonight before bed I said a small prayer.

Dear Jesus,

please help me listen when You speak to my heart.
Do not let me grow proud or stubborn.
Teach me to accept little humiliations quietly just as You bore mockery with patience before Herod.

Let me always follow Your voice.

Amen.

Love,

Kathy.

Source:  The Circling Year