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

 

The Little Drop That Could Not Be Stopped

September 5, 1957

Dear Diary,

There was a real chill in the air this morning when we met beneath the apple tree behind St. Mary’s. Summer is still here, but it certainly did not feel like it today. Father, Sister Mary Claire, Robert, and I all had our jackets on, and even Mini seemed pleased to settle close beside us instead of wandering very far.

Father looked at our copy of Our Lady of Lourdes and reminded us that we are almost at the end now.

“Only two tiny parts after today,” he said.

That made everyone a little quiet.

Then Father asked me to read my chapter summary.

My Chapter Summary

Today’s part compared the story of Lourdes to a tiny drop of water coming down from the mountains.

Men might try to stop such a little stream by piling up earth, stones, and even great walls. For a while they might think they had succeeded. But the water keeps coming. Little by little it rises until at last it finds its way through, and what was once a quiet stream may become a mighty torrent.

The author said that this was like Lourdes.

At first there was only Bernadette, a poor young girl kneeling at the Grotto. Then came a few women with flowers, an old farmer praying, and a handful of people carrying candles.

Officials tried to stop them.

But the faith of the people could not be stopped.

In time, the little gatherings became great processions. Pilgrims came from far away. A magnificent church rose above the Grotto, and people from throughout the Christian world came to Lourdes to pray.

The little drop had become a mighty river.

But the chapter ended with a warning too. God gives His gifts to us, but then He asks us to care for them. We must remain humble and faithful so that we do not spoil through pride or carelessness what God has begun.

When I finished, Robert said he liked the part about the water finding its way through the wall.

Father nodded.

“Human beings sometimes imagine that they can stop what God intends to accomplish.”

Sister said she especially liked the final lesson.

“A gift from God still has to be treasured,” she said. “We cannot simply receive something beautiful and then forget to care for it.”

I thought about that for a while.

Perhaps our Reading Club is a little like that too. It began with only a few books beneath an apple tree. Now it has given us so many afternoons together, so many prayers, discussions, trips, treats, and things I never would have learned by myself.

Then Sister opened her basket.

Inside was a beautiful chocolate pie with a graham cracker crust and a thick whipped topping.

That improved everyone's spirits immediately.

Sister cut large pieces for us, and Robert poured the milk. The pie was rich and creamy, and the graham cracker crust was just right.

Mini received a little dish of whipped cream all her own.

She looked into the dish, looked at Sister, and then began licking so happily that Robert said Mini had officially approved today's refreshments.

After our discussion, Father reminded us that tomorrow we would meet again after Sunday service.

“And since we are so close to finishing,” he said, “I think we should have a potluck dinner.”

That caused quite a discussion of its own.

Sister said she would bring something. Robert immediately began making plans, and I started wondering what I could contribute. Father said the only rule was that no one was to turn the potluck into a competition.

Robert looked disappointed.

Before we left, Father asked me to say our closing prayer.

We bowed our heads beneath the apple tree.

Dear Lord,
thank You for the good things You begin in our lives.
Help us to care for Your gifts with humble and grateful hearts.
Keep our faith strong, and never let pride or fear keep us from following You.
Bless our Reading Club and everyone gathered here.
Amen.

Father gave us his blessing.

As we gathered our books, I looked at the apple tree, the church, and our little meeting place.

The book may almost be finished.

But somehow I do not think our Reading Club is.

Perhaps a little beginning, cared for properly, can keep growing for a very long time.

Just like that tiny drop of water.

Love,

Kathy

Not the End After All

September 4, 1957

Dear Diary,

We met beneath the apple tree behind St. Mary’s again today. The afternoon was warm and peaceful, and every so often a little breeze stirred the leaves above our heads. Mini settled beside my chair as though she knew exactly where a faithful member of the reading club belonged.

Father asked me to begin by reading my chapter summary. Today we talked about what Lourdes was like eleven years after the Blessed Virgin appeared to Bernadette. The wild place around the Grotto had changed so much. A great church was rising above the rock, pilgrims were coming from faraway places, and the little spring Mary had revealed continued to flow. It seemed wonderful to think that something which began with one poor girl kneeling in the mud had grown into a place of prayer and hope for the whole world.

We had a very good discussion afterward. Sister Mary Claire said that the buildings and crowds were important, but the greatest change could not be seen with the eyes. It was the change within the hearts of all the people who came to Lourdes seeking God.

For our treat, Sister brought a plate of her chocolate chip cookies, baked just right—soft in the middle and a little crisp around the edges. Robert brought a quart of cold Jersey milk, and we passed it around in little cups. Sister had wisely made a special cookie for Mini without any chocolate chips. Mini ate it happily and then lapped up a little dish of Jersey milk. Afterward, she carefully searched the grass for any crumbs that might have escaped her notice.

I think we were all feeling a little sad because we are nearing the end of Our Lady of Lourdes. Father must have noticed, because he smiled and said, “Finishing one book does not mean the reading club is finished.”

Those words cheered everyone at once.

Father said he would like the reading club to continue. He asked each of us to begin thinking about what book we might read next. Everyone may choose one title, and after all the suggestions have been given, we shall cast our votes.

Robert immediately looked as though he already had three books in mind. Sister laughed and reminded him that Father had said one title from each person. I do not know yet what book I shall choose, but I want it to be something that will help us love God more and give us plenty to talk about beneath the apple tree.

When it was time to leave, Father asked me to read our closing prayer. We bowed our heads, and I prayed:

“Dear Lord, thank You for our reading club, for the lessons we have learned, and for the happy hours we have shared together. Bless each person gathered here, and guide us as we choose our next book. May everything we read lead us closer to You. Amen.”

As we gathered our books and cups, the reading club no longer felt as though it were ending. It felt as though another wonderful story was waiting just around the corner.

Love,

Kathy

The Last Chapter Begins

 

Dear Diary,

We met again today under the apple tree beside St. Mary’s, and somehow everything seemed a little quieter than usual.

The sun was warm, the leaves over us rustled when the breeze came through, and our chairs were all in their familiar places. Father LeRoy was there, Sister Mary Claire and Robert too, and Mini settled down close beside me.

But I think all of us were thinking the same thing.

Today we began the first part of the last chapter of Our Lady of Lourdes.

I did not like the sound of those words very much.

We have spent so many wonderful days together reading this book—under the apple tree, beside Indian Creek, in the clubhouse when it rained, and even riding along in Father’s car—that it hardly seems possible that the story can really be coming to an end.

Mini must have noticed that something was different too. Usually she is watching for squirrels or wondering whether anyone has dropped something good to eat, but today she just lay beside my chair with her chin on her paws as if she were melancholy with the rest of us.

Father looked around at everybody and smiled.

“Well, Kathy,” he said, “we had better not mourn the end before we have finished the story. Let us hear what happened at Lourdes.”

So I opened my notebook and read my summary.

Years had passed since Bernadette first knelt before the rough Grotto of Massabielle. The lonely place she had known had changed almost beyond recognition.

A great church was rising above the rocks where the Blessed Virgin had appeared. The steep hillside had been covered with grass, shrubs, flowers and winding paths. Roses, violets and daisies grew where once there had been only rough earth and stone.

The Grotto itself had become a sanctuary. An iron railing protected it, a golden lamp hung above, and candles burned there day and night.

The miraculous spring still flowed.

Its water now filled great basins, and a place had been prepared where the sick could bathe. Roads had been built so pilgrims could reach the Grotto more easily. Even the stream and part of the river had been moved so that the growing crowds could come safely to Massabielle.

And the most wonderful thing was that these enormous works were being paid for largely by the little offerings of ordinary people.

A copper coin here.

A gift of thanksgiving there.

Offerings from people who had been healed, comforted, or brought closer to God.

The author said something I liked very much: God did not force anyone to give. He wanted gifts freely offered by people who loved Him.

When I finished, nobody spoke for a moment.

Then Sister Mary Claire said, “Think how it began. One poor girl kneeling in the mud before a place most people hardly noticed.”

“And now there is a church rising above it,” Robert said.

Father nodded.

“That is often how God works,” he said. “Something may begin very quietly. So quietly that the world thinks it is nothing. But if it truly belongs to God, we should not be surprised at what may grow from it.”

I looked up through the branches of our apple tree.

That made me think about our Reading Club.

We certainly had not built a basilica.

We had only gathered beneath a tree with some old books, a few chairs, plenty of questions, and usually something good to eat.

But I wondered if little things could grow too.

Maybe Robert would remember these meetings when he was old.

Maybe I would.

Maybe someday I would hear the name Lourdes and remember Father sitting beneath this apple tree, Sister explaining something I could not understand, Robert reading ahead when he was not supposed to, and Mini waiting patiently for her share of the refreshments.

Then Robert announced that there was one more matter requiring our immediate attention.

From his cooler he produced great vanilla ice-cream cones.

“A nickel apiece,” he said proudly.

They were enormous for a nickel.

Mine was already beginning to melt down one side before I had taken three bites.

Mini suddenly recovered from her melancholy.

Robert had remembered her too and brought out a little dish of plain vanilla ice cream. She cleaned it so carefully that Father said perhaps Mini had decided the last chapter was not entirely bad after all.

We laughed, and that helped.

I am still a little sad tonight, Diary.

The book is nearly finished.

And perhaps these wonderful summer meetings really are drawing toward their end.

But today’s chapter reminded me that an ending does not always mean something disappears.

Bernadette’s days at the Grotto ended long ago, but what began there kept growing.

Maybe that is the important thing.

Some things stay with us after the chairs are folded, the books are closed, and the last nickel ice-cream cone is gone.

And perhaps that is how a little Reading Club under an Iowa apple tree can last forever too.

Good night, dear Diary.

Love, Kathy 

 

The Faith of a Child

Dear Diary,

We met under the apple tree again today for our Reading Club. The morning had that nice late-summer feeling to it, with the leaves stirring every once in a while and little patches of sunlight moving around on our books.

Father LeRoy had told us he might be a little late, so Sister Mary Claire said we should go ahead without him. Robert carried the chairs out, Mini found her usual place where she could keep an eye on everybody, and I began my chapter summary.

Today’s chapter was about a boy named Jules Lacassagne and his father, Roger.

Jules had been sick for two whole years. At first he could hardly swallow solid food, and later the doctors discovered that his throat had become so terribly narrowed that he could live only on liquids. He grew thin and pale, and even the finest doctors in Toulouse and Bordeaux could not cure him.

But Jules had read about Lourdes.

He became completely certain that the Blessed Virgin could help him. He told his mother, “Send me to Lourdes, and you will see I shall be cured.”

His father did not really believe in miracles, but he loved his son so much that he was willing to try anything. So in February they traveled to Lourdes.

Jules prayed in the chapel and at the Grotto. A priest consecrated him to the Blessed Virgin, and afterward Jules washed himself with the spring water and drank some of it.

Then his father handed him a biscuit.

After two years of being unable to eat solid food, Jules swallowed it.

“Papa! I am swallowing the biscuit. I am able to eat. I was sure of it, for I had faith.”

He ate another, and another.

His father hurried off to send one word by telegram to Jules’s mother:

“Cured.”

And Jules remained well.

When I finished reading, nobody said anything for a little while.

Then Robert said, “The boy seemed to have more faith than everybody else put together.”

Sister Mary Claire smiled. “Sometimes children do.”

That started quite a lively discussion.

Robert wondered why Jules could believe so completely when his father could hardly believe at all. Sister said perhaps Jules had received the grace to trust simply, without needing to understand everything first.

I said I thought the most beautiful part was that Jules had carried the thought of Lourdes quietly in his heart for eight months. Nobody encouraged him very much, but he never forgot.

Sister nodded.

“Faith can grow very quietly,” she said. “Sometimes the deepest things are happening when nobody else notices.”

Just then we heard a car door shut beside the church.

“There’s Father,” Robert said.

Father came around the corner carrying a big cardboard tray and looking rather pleased with himself.

“I hope,” he announced, “that the theological discussion has not advanced beyond the point where refreshments may still be admitted.”

Dairy Queen!

He had brought Oreo Cookie Blizzards for everybody.

Sister laughed and said that perhaps this was the first recorded Reading Club discussion in which St. Vitus’ dance, Lourdes, miracles, the Blessed Virgin, and Oreo cookies had all appeared in the same hour.

Mini received no Oreo Blizzard, of course. Father had remembered her too. Hers was a little dish of plain vanilla ice cream with a vanilla wafer stuck in the top.

Mini ate the wafer first.

Robert said that proved she understood the proper order of things.

When our Blizzards were nearly gone, Father returned to the chapter.

He said that perhaps the greatest miracle in the story was not only what happened to Jules.

“Notice what happened to the father,” he said.

Jules received back his health, but his father received something too. A man who had trusted only what he could see and explain suddenly found himself standing before something he could not explain away.

Sister said that was why the author wrote that the Blessed Virgin had given Jules temporal life, but had helped lead his father toward the life that lasts forever.

I liked that very much.

Maybe sometimes God answers one person’s prayer and, hidden inside the answer, there is another gift meant for somebody else.

The afternoon breeze began rustling the apple leaves above us, and one apple dropped into the grass with a little thump.

Father stood and gave us his blessing.

On the walk home I kept thinking about Jules saying, “I was sure of it, for I had faith.”

I don’t think faith always means being sure that God will give us exactly what we ask for.

Maybe it means being sure that, whatever happens, we can still put ourselves into His hands.

And perhaps that is the kind of faith I would like to have.

Dear Blessed Mother, help me to trust Jesus simply and lovingly, especially when I cannot see what He is doing. Help me remember that no prayer offered with love is ever forgotten.

Amen.