The Angel of Peace

September 18, 2026

Dear Diary,

Our Reading Club met outside once more today, enjoying the pleasant weather while it lasts. A gentle breeze accompanied our gathering, and Father LeRoy joined us for lunch.

Thanks to Father and the Church oven, we enjoyed a cheese pizza topped with four eggs, their yolks still soft! We divided it carefully, enjoying the warm cheese and golden yolks, and thanked Father for such a delicious treat.

As usual, I read the summary of our chapter from The Fatima Story.

The children had taken shelter from heavy rain in a rocky hollow where they could still watch their sheep. After lunch and the Rosary, they were about to play when a rushing wind and a brilliant light startled them.

A beautiful young man, shining like crystal in the sun, approached through the air.

“Do not be afraid. I am the angel of Peace. Pray with me.”

Bowing his forehead to the ground, he repeated three times:

“My God, I believe, I adore, I hope in Thee and I love Thee! I beg pardon from Thee for those who do not believe, who do not hope, who do not adore, and who do not love Thee!”

He told them that the most holy hearts of Jesus and Mary would be moved by their prayer.

After he disappeared, the children remained filled with a sweet awareness of God’s presence. They had many questions, but one thing was certain: they must pray. Again and again, they bowed down and repeated his words.

Their example stayed with me. I do not need to understand everything before turning to God. I can begin by offering Him my faith, my trust, and my love.

Our afternoon also reminded me of Jesus waiting in the tabernacle. I wanted to visit Him before going home and pray for those who have forgotten His love.

Dear Jesus, help me to pray attentively and trust You with my questions.

Good night, dear Diary. May Jesus and Mary watch over all those I love, and may St. Joseph keep us in his care.

With love,

Kathy

 

Little Shepherds and Egg Salad Beneath the Apple Tree

Dear Diary,

The weather was so lovely today that we took advantage of it and held our Reading Club meeting beneath the apple tree. Robert and I sat across from Sister and Father, while Mini settled near the lunch basket. She seems to know exactly where a corgi is most needed.

I read the summary of Chapter Two aloud. Lucy had begun tending her family’s sheep in the hills, and Francis and Jacinta missed her terribly. When their mother allowed them to care for their own flock, the three children could spend their days together again.

“They made looking after sheep sound like a holiday,” Robert said.

“Work is often happier when it’s shared,” Sister answered.

We talked about how the children hurried through their rosary after lunch because they were eager to play and pick blackberries.

“I might have been thinking about the blackberries, too,” I admitted.

“Especially the big ones,” Robert added.

Sister smiled, but reminded us that prayer deserves our attention, just as a friend does when we are talking together. That made me think about the times I finish my prayers without remembering much of what I’ve said.

Father spoke about the children’s ordinary lives—their chores, games, and family evenings—and how little they knew of what God had prepared for them.

“We aren’t given every tomorrow at once,” he said. “We can ask for the grace to be faithful today.”

I liked that. The chapter’s ending made me wonder how much good could begin with a little faith, hope, and love in our own hearts.

Then we unpacked lunch: egg salad sandwiches and sliced tomatoes. Robert noticed that the egg salad was especially yellow.

There was a very good reason. Mini had been given some of the egg whites in her own little dish!

“I see someone has had a say in the sandwiches,” Father said.

Mini kept eating, quite satisfied with the arrangement.

We lingered beneath the branches after lunch, enjoying the pleasant weather and talking about the next chapter. Before we left, I read our closing prayer slowly, remembering Sister’s words.

Dear Lord, thank You for this beautiful day, our food, and our friendship. Help us to do our work willingly, pray with attentive hearts, and grow in faith, hope, and love. Blessed Mother, watch over our reading club and our families, and lead us closer to your Son. Keep us in Your care until we meet again. Amen.

Chapter One with Dunlap Jam

September 16, 2026

Dear Diary,

Another damp and chilly morning brought our Reading Club back to the church basement. Mini, my faithful Corgi, settled beneath my chair, keeping watch for anything that might fall from the table.

Four copies of The Fatima Story had been found in the church library, so everyone came prepared. I began by reading my chapter summary.

“Lucy, ten years old, and her cousins, Francis and Jacinta, are inseparable friends. Lucy is sensible and truthful, with her mother’s gift for storytelling. Jacinta is lively and tenderhearted, while Francis is quieter and very affectionate toward his sister. They play and dance, then rest behind the garden well, where Lucy tells stories about Jesus, His Mother, and the saints. Lucy has received her First Communion, and her cousins eagerly long to receive Jesus, too.”

“They sound like children we might know,” someone said. “Playing, dancing, even pouting!”

We smiled over Francis enjoying the dignity of being older, yet giving in to his little sister out of affection. Beneath my chair, Mini rested her chin on my shoe. She knows something about affectionate persuasion herself.

Another round of toast arrived. This time the butter was soft, and there was plenty of strawberry jam, made by Father LeRoy with Dunlap berries from his garden.

Father explained that Dunlaps were grown for taste, rather than for the store shelf. We certainly appreciated the difference. The jam tasted of summer, despite the weather outside.

The jar went around again. Mini’s ears rose at the clatter of plates, and I gave her a tiny corner of plain toast. She accepted it solemnly, then inspected the floor for further blessings.

Returning to our chapter, we talked about Lucy’s mother and the stories she shared.

“I wonder whether she knew how closely the children were listening,” I said.

That brought memories of our own mothers, grandparents, and teachers—the voices we still remember telling us about Jesus.

Jacinta’s words touched us all: “Poor Lord! I won’t sin any more. I don’t want Jesus to suffer.”

“She wanted to love Him better,” someone said simply.

Francis became quiet and thoughtful instead. We agreed that people take things to heart differently. Those who say the least may still be listening deeply.

Mini was now asleep, one paw across my foot. I took care not to disturb her.

We ended with the children’s longing for Holy Communion. Their eagerness stayed with me. I want to carry a little of it to Mass—to arrive with gratitude and take time to prepare my heart.

Before we cleared the table, I prayed:

Dear Jesus, thank You for our friendship and the food we shared. Help us to be truthful like Lucy, tenderhearted like Jacinta, and attentive like Francis. Bless those who teach children to love You. Renew our joy in Holy Communion, and help us carry Your kindness home. Bless Father LeRoy, our Reading Club, and dear Mini, whose faithful company brings me such happiness. Amen.

At the rustle of my coat, Mini woke and stretched, ready to lead me home. I tucked my book under my arm, grateful for a morning of good company, thoughtful conversation, and Father’s strawberry jam.

Love, Kathy

 

A New Story

 

Tuesday, September 15

Dear Diary,

The reading club met in the church basement today because the weather was cold and wet. Rain tapped at the windows while Father LeRoy hurried about with mugs of hot cocoa and plates of buttered toast. Since he had called the meeting before we could put together a list of books, he had chosen our new story himself: Our Lady of Fatima.

I thought the sudden meeting might spare me from giving a chapter summary. No such luck. Father was so eager to begin that he brought me a copy of the book last night. I read the first chapter before bed, though I would have liked one more evening to prepare.

I told the club about Fatima, the Portuguese village of stony hills where children helped their families by tending sheep. According to the story, the village was named for an Arab maiden who became a Christian and was buried in a chapel there more than seven hundred years ago. The monastery around the chapel disappeared, but the chapel remained, and houses gathered beside it.

The chapter then described the troubled years after Portugal’s revolutions, when people faced opposition to the practice of their faith. Even in Fatima, it said, some families had begun to neglect the evening rosary. But the chapter ended with a promise: Our Lady would come to that little village and choose three children to help bring her message of peace to a world troubled by war.

Father leaned forward as I reached that part, as though I might go on to the next chapter. I was relieved when he finally let me close the book. On the walk home, with the rain still falling, I found myself thinking about those three children. They must have believed they were simply going about another ordinary day with the sheep. I wonder what they thought when their lives began to change.

Good night, dear Diary.

The Last Page Under the Apple Tree

Dear Diary,

We met once more under the apple tree this morning, bundled in sweaters and jackets against the cool autumn air. I was grateful for another gathering in our familiar spot, though I had been dreading this meeting a little. We had reached the last chapter of Our Lady of Lourdes, and I simply didn’t want the book to ever end.

I read the chapter summary aloud through teary eyes. More than once, I had to pause and steady my voice.

Bernadette was no longer at Lourdes. She had entered the Sisters of Charity at Nevers, taking the name Sister Marie-Bernard. After all the crowds, questions, and excitement surrounding her, she had chosen a quiet life caring for the poor and sick. She wanted neither money nor recognition. Her treasure was in belonging to God and serving those who needed tenderness.

What touched me most was that her simplicity remained. Even through illness and suffering, she carried on with patience. Having delivered Our Lady’s message, she was content to step out of sight.

Then came that final thought: the very book that had told us so much about Bernadette would never be read by Sister Marie-Bernard herself.

I sat quietly for a moment after reading that. A few leaves stirred above us. It felt like watching someone dear walk away down a peaceful path, glad for her, but wishing she could stay a little longer.

Our discussion was especially tender today. We talked about how difficult it can be to do something good without wanting anyone to notice, and how Bernadette found a whole life’s purpose in humble service. I wondered aloud how often I overlook an opportunity to care for someone because I am busy thinking about something less important. This last chapter gave me plenty to carry home in my heart.

And then, of course, there was ice cream.

Robert had brought Dairy Queen soft serve, along with hot fudge tucked into a small thermos to keep it warm. Ice cream on a chilly morning might have seemed a curious choice, but the warm fudge tipped the scales toward comfort. With our jackets pulled close and that lovely chocolate melting into the soft serve, we were quite happy to linger beneath the apple tree.

Mini had a little dish of soft serve, too, and attended to it with a seriousness that made us all smile. Every so often, I looked down to see how the dish was coming along. There was very little left to wonder about!

None of us wanted this to be the end of our meetings. We agreed that we would keep gathering, although we still have to choose another book and find four copies of whatever we decide upon. That may take a little searching. For today, it was enough to know that there would be another meeting.

Before we said goodbye, we bowed our heads beneath the apple tree for a blessing:

“May the Lord bless us and keep us, guide us safely home, and help us carry the kindness we have shared into the lives of others. May Our Lady watch over us until we meet again. Amen.”

I closed my book gently afterward and held it in my lap a moment longer. I will remember this morning: the cool air on my cheeks, the warm fudge, our thoughtful conversation, and the dear company gathered beneath the branches.

I am still sorry to have finished the book. But tonight, when I think of Bernadette, I think of her tending someone sick, doing the small work before her with love. Tomorrow, I hope I will remember to do the same.

Our Lady of Lourdes, gentle Mother, pray for us. Bring comfort to the sick, courage to those who suffer, and peace to every troubled heart. Help me to follow Bernadette’s example of humility, patience, and faithful service. Watch over our little reading circle and all those we love, and lead us ever closer to your Son, Jesus. Amen.

Mary's Birthday Party

Mary's Cake Recipe

September 8, 1957

Dear Diary,

Today is the birthday of our Blessed Mother Mary. We had planned to read the epilogue of Our Lady’s Story of Lourdes, but Father LeRoy said it could wait until tomorrow.

“Today,” he told us, “we should give all our attention to Mary’s birthday.”

We gathered beneath the apple tree behind the church, where Father’s housekeeper had prepared a beautiful birthday cake. It was a tall lemon-and-blueberry cake with four golden layers and white cream-cheese frosting between them. Fresh berries surrounded a little statue of Mary dressed in blue, and ten white candles stood in a circle to represent the ten decades of the Rosary. A cold jar of Robert’s Jersey milk completed our little feast.

Father’s housekeeper told us how she made the cake. She began with two round white cakes. After slicing each cake in half, she brushed the layers with thawed lemonade concentrate. Then she stirred lemon extract into the cream-cheese frosting and spread it between the four layers. She frosted the top, arranged the fresh berries around Mary, and added the candles. Sister Mary Claire said we must write the recipe down because such a lovely cake ought to become a yearly tradition.

Before Father lit the candles, we each offered a quiet Hail Mary as our birthday gift to Our Blessed Mother. Then we sang “Happy Birthday.” Father said that Mary does not need earthly presents, but she is always pleased when her children remember her with love and try to please her Son.

The cake tasted wonderful—soft and lemony, with sweet frosting and berries. The cold Jersey milk went perfectly with it. Mini sat beside me looking hopeful until she received a little dish of Jersey milk. That made her feel included in the party too.

Father reminded us that Mary’s birthday is a happy day for the whole world, because the little girl born on this day would one day become the Mother of Jesus—and our heavenly Mother as well.

We ended our celebration by praying another Hail Mary together, and Father gave us his blessing beneath the apple tree.

The epilogue will still be waiting tomorrow. Today belonged to Mary.

Happy Birthday, dear Blessed Mother!

Love,
Kathy

Where Are They Now?

September 7, 1957

Dear Diary,

After Mass this morning, our reading club met beneath the apple tree for the potluck dinner we had planned.

Sister Mary Claire brought a large pot of good old-fashioned Iowa chili. Father LeRoy supplied bread and butter, and we had warm blackberry cobbler with cream for dessert. Robert also brought a bottle of cold Jersey milk.

His other contribution surprised everyone. He arrived with a platter of tacos and a little brass handbell. When Father asked what he called his unusual dish, Robert rang the bell and announced, “Taco Bell!”

Nobody had ever heard of such a thing in 1957. We laughed and decided that Robert had invented both the food and the name.

Mini received a bowl of plain ground beef with a little dab of cream. She seemed to think the potluck had been arranged especially for her.

When dinner was finished, I read Part Six, which we called “Where Are They Now?” It told what had become of many of the people we had met throughout the story.

Those who had been miraculously healed were still in good health. Their continued recovery remained a living witness to the mercy shown at the Grotto.

Bishop Laurence was still serving as Bishop of Tarbes, and Father Peyramale had recovered from his illness. He remained the beloved Curé of Lourdes, always ready to help whenever there was good to be done.

We also learned that Bernadette’s mother died on December 8, 1866, the Feast of the Immaculate Conception. Bernadette’s father remained a poor miller, supporting his family through the work of his hands. Although a magnificent church was rising at Lourdes, the Soubirous family continued to live quietly and humbly.

Father said that the miracles did not end when the people returned home. Each healed person carried the story of Lourdes into the years ahead.

Now we have only one more meeting before we finish Our Lady of Lourdes. We will read the short epilogue together. I am thankful that we still have one final gathering beneath the apple tree to look forward to.

We ended with a prayer, thanking Our Blessed Mother for guiding our reading club and asking her to lead us always closer to Jesus.

Just as I said “Amen,” Robert rang his little bell once more.

Mini looked up quickly. I believe she thought it meant second helpings.

Love, Kathy