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.

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