Dear Diary,
This morning felt soft and early, like the world was still rubbing its eyes. Robert picked us up as usual and right on time at the mailbox, and we all squeezed in together—Sister Mary Claire, Mini, and me—ready for early Mass. Mini sat properly between us like she always does, part of our little trio.
At Mass, Father LeRoy brought today’s meditation from The Circling Year right into his homily. He explained how Our Lord calls us not just to believe in Him quietly, but to follow Him bravely—especially when it costs us something. He said that Lent is like walking behind Jesus on a narrow road. Sometimes we want to step off to the side where it’s easier, but love keeps us close behind Him. Father’s voice grew gentle when he reminded us that even small sacrifices, offered with love, are beautiful to God. I thought about that very hard.
After Mass, Robert surprised us by turning toward town instead of home. We ended up at the Breakfast Club in Littlemore! All four cousins were there—Hayden, Caleb, Sasha, and Max—busy as could be. The place smelled like coffee and warm syrup.
Caleb himself served the waffles, tall and golden on our plates. And then he said something that made my eyes widen. He churned the butter himself! He even imported the churn all the way from England. Imagine that—an English butter churn in Littlemore! He brought out a pat of butter shaped neatly from his own butter form, and when it melted over the hot waffles it tasted fresh and rich and almost sweet. Wow. It was such a treat.
When we were leaving, Caleb handed us a whole stick of his butter to take home. We thanked him kindly, but next time we will not accept it without paying. Good butter and good work deserve it. Still, what a generous heart.
The ride home was peaceful. The sun was climbing higher, and the roads looked brighter than they had in the early morning. Mini rested her chin on Sister’s lap, perfectly content. I kept thinking about Father LeRoy’s words—that love follows close behind Jesus, even on narrow roads. Maybe today that narrow road is simply being grateful and trying to do better tomorrow.
Tonight, the butter is in our icebox, and my heart feels warm.
Evening Prayer
Dear Jesus,
Help me to follow close behind You, even when the road feels narrow or hard.
Bless Father LeRoy, and bless Robert for always bringing us safely to Church.
Bless the four cousins and especially Caleb for his kindness and his butter churn from England.
Teach me to give generously and to receive gratefully.
And may everything I do tomorrow be done for love of You.
Amen.
Love,
Kathy
Dear Diary,
All morning I could hardly settle myself because Chapter Nine was waiting for me. I wanted to read it in the cave — in my own little grotto — where the words about Lourdes seem to breathe better somehow.
It was still a chilly 27 degrees, so I bundled up in my coat and wool cap and filled a small sack with sticks. As I walked the worn path toward the cave, I imagined I was like little Bernadette along the Gave River, gathering bits of wood before she ever knew Heaven would touch that rocky place. The cold made it feel almost real — as if something important might happen.
Inside, the cave was quiet and gray with winter light. I knelt and set the sticks into the small stove Robert installed last fall. I’m so thankful for that stove. Soon the fire caught, and a soft crackling began, warming the stones and my stiff fingers. Mini curled close beside it, her little red-and-white body tucked neatly, ears alert but peaceful.
Then I opened Chapter Nine.
This was the chapter where the Lady appears in such splendor. The book described her standing above the grotto rock, clothed in white that seemed to shine without hurting the eyes, a blue girdle at her waist, and a rosary of white beads falling from her hands. The light around her was gentle but glorious — not like sunlight, but something purer. I could almost see it flickering against the stone walls of my own cave.
When the book said Bernadette fell to her knees in awe, I felt my own heart kneel. I looked up at the rough stone ceiling of our cave and imagined that same holy brightness filling it. For a moment, the firelight danced along the rocks, and I thought how easily Heaven could choose a poor, simple place to show its beauty.
Mini lifted her head and looked at me as if she sensed the quiet had grown deeper.
I thought about how Our Lady chose a little girl, not a queen or scholar. She chose a cold grotto, not a palace. That makes me feel that perhaps she does not mind my small cave along Indian Creek. Perhaps she even smiles at it.
When the light outside began to fade, I closed the book slowly. I pressed it to my chest and thanked Our Lady for coming to Bernadette — and for letting me read about it here, beside a little stove in Iowa.
Tonight I prayed this:
Evening Prayer to Our Lady of Lourdes
Dear Blessed Mother of Lourdes,
You who stood in light above the rocky grotto, please stand quietly in my heart tonight.
Make my soul simple like Bernadette’s, bright with faith even in cold and ordinary places.
Help me to pray the Rosary as you held it in your gentle hands.
Watch over Mini, Sister, and our little farm, and keep us close to your Son, Jesus.
Amen.
Love,
Kathy 💙
Dear Diary,
Today felt like a true Sunday—quiet, bright, and set apart. After Mass, we came home and kept the day gentle. The chores were only the necessary ones, and then Sister Mary Claire let the house settle into that peaceful Sunday stillness. Mini stayed close, following us from room to room like she always does, as if she knew it was the Lord’s Day too.
Later, we turned on the radio and listened to Bishop Robert Barron. I love how he explains things, because he makes big words feel plain and true, like you can hold them in your hand. He talked about how, on this Second Sunday of Lent, the first reading about Abraham and the Gospel story of the Transfiguration fit together like two parts of one lesson.
Bishop Barron said God made us to go out from ourselves—not to stay curled up in our own wants and worries, but to step out and see how wide and beautiful God’s world really is. He said Abraham had to leave what was familiar and safe and go where God led him, even without knowing the whole plan. And then, up on the mountain, Peter, James, and John saw Jesus shining in glory for a moment—almost like God let them peek at what is truly real and bright, so they would have courage for what was coming.
Bishop Barron explained that the more a person clutches onto their own way—wanting to stay comfortable, wanting to be in charge, wanting things to go just how they like—the smaller their heart gets. But when you let go, when you stop grabbing and hanging on to everything, you actually become more alive. He said that is part of what salvation is—Jesus saving us by pulling us out of our cramped little self and leading us into something bigger.
I thought about that for a long time. I know what it feels like when I’m holding on too tight—when I’m stubborn, or wanting my own way, or feeling sorry for myself. It makes my insides feel crowded. But when I say, “Alright, Jesus, I’ll trust You,” it feels like stepping into fresh air.
Bishop Barron even said that salvation has something to do with adventure—not adventure like running away, but adventure like following God when you don’t know the whole road yet. Like Abraham. Like the Apostles coming down the mountain after seeing Jesus shining, and still having to walk into hard days with trust.
Tonight I want to try letting go of my little “me-first” ways, even if it’s only in small things. Maybe that is how you start becoming more alive.
Evening Prayer
Dear Jesus,
Help me to come out of myself and follow You with a brave heart.
When I want to cling to my own way, teach me to let go.
Let Your light shine in my life the way it shone on the mountain.
Bless Sister Mary Claire, and bless dear little Mini.
Keep us faithful through Lent and close to You always.
Amen.
Love,
Kathy
Dear Diary,
It was 22 degrees today, bright and biting cold. Sister Mary Claire and I spent most of the day catching up on housework and chores. There were floors to sweep, dishes to wash, and everything to put back into order. It felt good to be busy, even if my hands were a little pink from the cold water.
All through the day I kept thinking about today’s meditation from The Circling Year—how Jesus allowed Himself to be taken and did not resist, even when His friends scattered in fear. He stayed steady and obedient. While I worked, I tried to remember that. Sometimes I want to hurry or complain, but Jesus bore far more and did it quietly.
When it was time for Vigil Mass, Robert picked us up and drove us to Church, and of course Mini came along too. The church felt warm after the sharp air outside. Father LeRoy explained the meditation so clearly. He said real strength is quiet and faithful. Jesus could have defended Himself, but He chose love instead. Father said courage often looks small from the outside, but it is very big in the eyes of God.
After Mass, Robert brought us home, and Sister Mary Claire invited him in for hot chocolate. We had baked Nestlé Toll House chocolate chip cookies earlier, and by then they were all cooled but still sitting neatly on the wire rack. When we lifted the cookies right off the rack, they were perfect—just crisp enough at the edges and soft in the middle. Robert took a bite, smiled, and called them “Baked Right Cookies.” That made us all laugh.
The recipe says to bake them 10 to 12 minutes, but Sister Mary Claire always takes them out at 9 minutes to make them just right. She says you must watch carefully and trust your eyes more than the clock. I think that is true about other things too.
Here is the recipe we used:
Nestlé Toll House Chocolate Chip Cookies
2¼ cups flour
1 teaspoon baking soda
1 teaspoon salt
1 cup butter
¾ cup sugar
¾ cup brown sugar
2 eggs
1 teaspoon vanilla
1 package (12 oz.) semi-sweet chocolate morsels
Cream butter and sugars. Add eggs and vanilla.
Mix dry ingredients and combine.
Stir in chocolate morsels.
Bake at 375° for 10–12 minutes (or 9 minutes if you want them just right). Cool on a wire rack.
Tonight I feel thankful for warm kitchens, good teaching, and cookies baked just right.
Evening Prayer
Dear Jesus,
Help me to be faithful in small things and brave in quiet ways.
When I feel tempted to run from what is hard, help me stay near You with trust.
Bless Sister Mary Claire, Father LeRoy, Robert, and dear little Mini.
Keep our home warm and our hearts steady.
Amen.
Love,
Kathy
Dear Diary,
It was 35 degrees this morning and muddy everywhere. The snow is giving way, and the ground has that soft, messy feel where your boots want to stick and slip at the same time. Sister Mary Claire and I met Robert at the mailbox, and Sister carried Mini so she would keep her little feet clean for Church. Mini looked perfectly content in Sister’s arms, like she knew she was being protected from the mud on purpose.
On the way to Church we talked about today’s meditation from The Circling Year. It was about the Garden, when they came to take Jesus, and Peter drew his sword and struck the servant—Malchus—and cut off his ear. I can almost see it in my mind: Peter stepping forward so fast, his heart hot and brave, wanting to protect Our Lord the best way he knew how. Sister said it is a frightening thing, how love can be true and still become rough when it doesn’t listen.
Father LeRoy brought that right into his homily. He said Peter’s zeal was real—Peter loved Jesus—but Peter acted before he prayed. Father said that in Lent we are learning the difference between fighting for Jesus in our own way and following Jesus in His way. And Jesus did not praise the sword. He told Peter to put it away. Then, as if His Heart could not bear even one wound in the middle of His own sorrow, Jesus healed the ear that had been cut. Father said that is the lesson: when our temper, our quick words, or our “I’ll fix it right now” spirit hurts someone—even if we meant well—Jesus wants healing, not winning.
On the ride home with Robert, Sister and I kept talking about it. I told her I feel like Peter sometimes, especially when I think something is unfair. I want to jump in and fix it right away, and I feel strong in my mind, like that must be courage. Sister said courage is real, but Lent teaches courage with gentleness. She said, “Kathy, the Lord does not need our sharpness. He asks for our faithfulness.” Mini sat with us like part of the conversation, clean paws tucked up, looking from one face to the other.
I keep thinking about Jesus healing Malchus’ ear—how calm He was, how kind, even while He was being taken away. I want to be like that. I want my love to be more like His.
Evening Prayer
Dear Jesus,
When I feel quick and bold like Peter, please help me to listen first. Put Your gentle hand on my heart before I speak or act. Teach me to love You without sharpness, and to choose healing over winning. Make me brave in the right way—quiet, faithful, and kind.
Amen.
Love,
Kathy
Dear Diary,
Father brought today’s meditation from The Circling Year right into his homily. It said that believing isn’t only something we say—it is something we must live, especially when following Jesus feels costly.
Father LeRoy spoke about the Garden, and how Our Lord let Himself be taken prisoner. Jesus could have stopped it, but He chose obedience and love. Father said Lent asks us to stay close to Jesus in that hour—when fear and confusion come—and not run away in our hearts. He said we can “keep watch” with Jesus by being faithful in small things: choosing prayer, choosing kindness, and returning our thoughts to God when they wander.
During the homily I held the old photograph from Gramma’s prayer book—only now I’m almost sure it is Gramma, when she was a little girl. She looks so much like me in it that it made my heart feel funny, like I was seeing myself in another time. The way she folds her hands, the way her eyes look up—she seems like she’s listening for God the way I try to.
I kept thinking: if Gramma was like me, then maybe she had wandering thoughts too, and still she learned to bring them back. Maybe she had days when she felt afraid inside, the way the disciples must have felt when Jesus was taken away. And maybe she whispered her prayers anyway, holding steady when everything felt uncertain. I imagined her kneeling quietly, loving Jesus, trying not to run away in her heart.
All at once Father was giving the final blessing. Sister Mary Claire tapped my shoulder and whispered, “Time to go.” I startled, then smiled, and slipped Gramma’s photograph back inside the prayer book like a little secret to keep safe. Mini stayed close with us as we walked out, as if she was helping me remember to keep watch.
Evening Prayer
Dear Jesus, as You were taken prisoner for love of us, help me stay close to You and not drift away. Help me live what I believe in the small, ordinary moments. And thank You for Gramma, who was so much like me—please let her prayers help me be brave and faithful too. Amen.
Love,
Kathy
February 25, 1957
Dear Diary,
Robert picked us up at the mailbox on his way to Church, just like always, and before we even reach the corner, we are already speaking about today’s Circling Year meditation. It is about Judas.
It sits heavy with me.
The meditation speaks about how Judas walks with Jesus, hears His voice, sees His miracles, even shares the bread—yet his heart drifts somewhere else. It says how frightening it is that a person can be so near to Our Lord outwardly and yet so far inwardly. Sister Mary Claire says that is what makes the story so serious. Judas does not begin as a villain. He begins as a chosen one.
Robert is quiet for a while and then says that perhaps Judas did not fall all at once. Perhaps it was small choices, small compromises, small loves that grew bigger than his love for Christ. That part stays with me. It makes the whole meditation feel close to home instead of far away in history.
At Mass, Father LeRoy speaks about it directly. He says the tragedy of Judas is not only betrayal, but that he stops trusting in mercy. He reminds us that Peter also falls, but Peter turns back. Judas turns away. Father says Lent is not given to frighten us, but to ask us gently: Where is your heart drifting? He says it very quietly, and it feels like the question lands right inside me.
On the ride home, the fields are wide and wintery, and I keep thinking how easy it would be to look steady on the outside but be wandering on the inside. I do not want that. I want my inside and outside to match.
Tonight the house is still, and I feel grateful for the warning hidden inside this Circling Year. The Church brings us back to Judas not so we can point at him, but so we can look at ourselves. And maybe turn back before it is too late.
Evening Prayer
Dear Jesus,
Keep my heart close to Yours.
If I begin to drift, please call me back.
Do not let small sins grow into something larger.
Give me Peter’s tears, not Judas’s despair.
Help me trust in Your mercy more than I trust in my fear.
Bless Father LeRoy, bless Robert, bless Sister Mary Claire, and bless Mini.
Hold us near You tonight.
Amen.
Love,
Kathy 🌾
