The Morning When Marie Could See

Dear Diary,

For some reason, I felt like dressing up today, so I put on my Robin Hood outfit, complete with my hat and feather. Sister Mary Claire smiled when she saw me and said I looked as though I ought to be guarding Sherwood Forest instead of attending the Reading Club.

Then Father LeRoy, Sister Mary Claire, Robert, Mini, and I headed down to Indian Creek for our meeting.

We met again beside that enormous glacial rock on the bank, the one that has been sitting there longer than any of us can imagine. I climbed up on top with my book and notes while everyone settled themselves below.

Standing there in my Robin Hood clothes, with the wind tugging at my feather and Indian Creek flowing behind me, I felt rather grand—almost as though the big old glacial rock were my castle.

Then I opened my book and began my chapter summary.

The story today was about a girl named Marie Moreau.

Long before the happenings at Lourdes, Marie’s mother had been very ill when Marie was born. Her father prayed earnestly to the Blessed Virgin and afterwards insisted that his little daughter be named Marie in Mary’s honor. He even had her dressed in white for her first three years because white was Our Lady’s color.

Years later, when Marie was sixteen and attending school at the Convent of the Sacred Heart in Bordeaux, something terrible happened to her eyes. The doctors said one eye was already lost and the other was failing badly. Medicines, treatments, and sea bathing did nothing to help her, and her family feared that she would soon be completely blind.

Then Marie’s father happened to read about the cures taking place through the water from the Grotto at Lourdes.

His old confidence in Our Lady returned immediately.

“This is where we must knock,” he said.

The family began a novena and obtained some water from Lourdes. Marie herself did not have very much faith, and her mother was almost afraid to hope, but her father prayed with extraordinary confidence.

That night Marie soaked a bandage in the Lourdes water and placed it over her eyes before going to sleep.

The next morning she removed the bandage.

She could see.

Not dimly.

Not a little better.

She could see everything clearly.

Marie called for her sister Marthe and asked for a book because she wanted to make certain she could really read. She opened it and read perfectly.

Then her father and mother came rushing into the room.

“I can see! I can read! I am cured!”

The whole family knelt and thanked the Blessed Virgin.

Later the doctor who had treated Marie admitted that such a sudden and complete recovery was beyond anything medicine could explain. Marie went to Lourdes with her family to give thanks, and she wore blue and white in honor of Our Lady.

The part I liked especially came afterward.

Marie wanted her blue-and-white dress given to Bernadette.

Bernadette accepted it and wore it for years.

I stopped reading there for a moment.

“So they really were almost like sisters,” I said. “Both of them under the care of the Blessed Mother.”

Sister smiled.

“I think that is a lovely way to put it, Kathy.”

Just then Sister reached into her picnic basket and produced a dozen chocolate chip cookies.

That brought everyone’s attention back to Iowa very quickly.

She had brought enough so we could each have three cookies with cold milk.

Father looked at the cookies and said, “Now that is what I call proper preparation for theological discussion.”

Robert said he thought three cookies might also improve a person’s ability to understand miracles.

I told him that was probably not in the chapter.

Mini received a little treat of her own and watched every bite we took just in case somebody suddenly decided three cookies were too many.

Nobody did.

While we ate, the sky over Indian Creek began changing. The warm summer light disappeared, and dark clouds began piling up from the west. The cottonwood leaves turned their pale undersides toward the wind.

Then we heard thunder.

Not very close at first.

But close enough.

Father looked toward the sky and said, “I think Our Lady will forgive us for shortening today’s meeting.”

Before we packed up, Father gave us one more piece of news.

“Tomorrow,” he said, “the Reading Club is going on another excursion.”

“Where?” Robert asked.

Father smiled.

“I’m not telling.”

“Is there food?” I asked.

His smile became even bigger.

“I’m still not telling.”

Sister said she had never seen four people become so curious so quickly.

I think she was counting Mini.

Then another roll of thunder came across the creek, much louder than the first.

That settled everything.

We hurriedly packed the books and picnic things. Father gave us his blessing, and I said our little closing prayer:

“Dear Blessed Mother, thank you for watching over Marie so many years ago, and thank you for watching over us today. Help us to trust you even when we cannot see what God is doing. Please keep everyone safe in the storm—and thank you for our cookies. Amen.”

Father made the Sign of the Cross over us.

Then the wind began blowing in earnest.

Fortunately, we had three chocolate chip cookies apiece inside us.

New cookie energy.

Robert took off first, Sister gathered her skirts, Father carried the basket, and I scrambled down from the big rock in my Robin Hood outfit, holding onto my hat so the wind would not carry it all the way to Sioux City.

Mini raced alongside me as though she had been waiting all afternoon for exactly this opportunity.

Behind us Indian Creek was turning dark beneath the storm clouds.

And ahead of us was home.

And somewhere beyond tomorrow morning—

Father’s mysterious excursion.

I wonder where he is taking us.

The Traveler in Time

Saturday, August 15, 1957

Dear Diary,

Our Reading Club met along Indian Creek again today, and I think it may be one of my favorite places for us to meet.

Today is the Feast of the Assumption of Our Blessed Mother, so Father LeRoy reminded us before we began that this was a very special day for Mary. It seemed just right that our chapter today should also be about her help and about the gratitude people offered to her at Lourdes.

I sat on the enormous rock along the bank to read my chapter summary. Before I started, though, I asked Sister Mary Claire something I had been wondering about ever since our last meeting.

If a glacier nearly a mile high once covered this country, why didn’t it grind this great rock into little pieces?

Sister smiled and patted the rock beside me.

She said this rock was a traveler in time, just as all of us are. Thousands of years ago it became frozen inside a great glacier far to the north. When the glacier slowly moved south, the rock traveled along inside the ice almost like something packed safely in a suitcase. Then, when the glacier finally melted and could carry it no farther, it simply left the rock behind.

“So here it sits,” Sister said, “a glacial erratic—a very old visitor from Canada.”

I liked thinking about that. This rock had been sitting beside Indian Creek long before Father LeRoy, Robert, Sister, Mini, or I ever came along.

Then Father said perhaps our old rock had something to teach us about today’s chapter, too.

I read my summary.

The Bishop’s Commission carefully investigated the cures connected with Lourdes. They did not simply believe every story they heard. They visited people, questioned witnesses, and examined the facts.

One of the most remarkable cases was Madame Rizan, who had been terribly ill and partly paralyzed for more than twenty years. Her doctors believed she was dying. During her last night she asked for water from the Grotto at Lourdes.

The next morning her daughter brought some. Madame Rizan drank it and was washed with it.

Almost immediately she declared that she was cured.

Her strength returned. She got out of bed, dressed herself, knelt before a statue of the Blessed Virgin, and asked everyone to thank Our Lady with her.

Even years later she remained well.

One doctor readily admitted that something extraordinary had happened. Another doctor had refused to investigate the cure because he did not believe in miracles. The author told him that a scientist ought to examine facts first instead of refusing to look at them because they do not agree with what he already believes.

That gave us plenty to talk about.

Sister tapped the great rock beneath me and said, “Suppose nobody studied this rock because they had already decided a glacier could never have carried it here. They would miss the story written right in front of them.”

Father nodded.

“Truth isn’t afraid of being examined,” he said.

I looked down at that enormous old traveler beneath me and thought about Madame Rizan. One came quietly from Canada inside a glacier, and one wonderful morning in France brought a story that people would still be examining many years later.

Before we left, Sister opened the picnic basket.

Inside were chocolate chip cookies and a big jar of cold Jersey cow milk.

Robert said perhaps scientific investigation should always end with cookies.

Father said he wasn’t certain the Bishop’s Commission would agree, but he certainly did.

We ate beside Indian Creek while the water slipped past our old traveler in time.

Because it was the Feast of the Assumption, I kept thinking about Our Lady too. The old rock had traveled such a long way before coming to rest here, and I thought how all of us are travelers through time too, hoping one day to reach Heaven, where Mary already is.

I wonder how many stories are sitting quietly around us, waiting for someone to notice them.

Good night, Diary.

Kathy

When Litte Boy Dopped

 
I wasn’t born yet when Hiroshima happened—August 6, 1945—but it isn’t terribly far away in the way history can still feel close enough to touch. I didn’t serve in Vietnam either. My own “war background” comes from history books, documentaries, and old footage. Still, war found its way into my life: I lost two close friends in Vietnam, and I had two brothers who served there. So even if my knowledge is secondhand, the cost of war has never felt abstract.

And yet—out of everything I’ve read, watched, or listened to—this one video about Hiroshima has impacted me more than any book, movie, or story I’ve ever encountered.

It tells what happened that morning when a B-29 dropped an atomic bomb—“Little Boy”—over Hiroshima. In an instant, buildings were flattened for miles. Tens of thousands died immediately, and the suffering continued long after the blast. The scale is hard to hold in the mind. You almost can’t take it in without wanting to turn away.

But then the story narrows to one small place near the heart of the devastation: a rectory beside a church—Our Lady of the Assumption. Eight Jesuit missionaries were there. Close to the hypocenter. Close enough that it makes no sense what comes next.

They survived.

Four of the priests are known by name—Father Hugo Lassalle, Father Wilhelm Kleinsorge, Father Hubert Schiffer, and Father Hubert Cieslik. They were injured by shattered glass, but not crushed, not burned, not deafened. Their church lost its stained-glass windows, but it didn’t collapse. In a city where so much turned to rubble, it remained standing—one of only a few structures left upright.

What affected me most wasn’t only that they lived through the blast. It was what came after. Doctors warned them about radiation poisoning—about lesions, sickness, and slow deterioration. Many victims suffered horrific burns and sores. But the Jesuits, astonishingly, showed no lasting radiation effects. They were examined again and again—hundreds of times over the years—and the predicted consequences never came.

Father Hubert Schiffer, who was only thirty at the time, later described the moment. He had celebrated Mass early that morning and then sat down for breakfast. He had just sliced a grapefruit—such an ordinary detail, so human—when a flash lit the room. Then came the force. He said he was lifted from his chair and hurled through the air, battered and spun as if the wind itself had turned violent and personal. When he opened his eyes, he was on the ground. Around him: nothing. Whole sections of the city leveled as far as he could see. And he discovered, almost impossibly, that he was still alive—only a few pieces of glass in the back of his neck.

Years later, he told the story publicly and kept being asked the same question: Why were you spared? When so many died in an instant—or suffered afterward—why did this small community survive, and why without the radiation effects everyone expected?

Father Schiffer’s answer was simple and steady. He attributed it to devotion to the Blessed Mother, to the Rosary, and to living the message of Fatima. Not as a slogan, but as a daily practice—prayer, repentance, consecration, and fidelity in ordinary life. He believed they had been protected, as if sheltered under a mantle.

The video includes that haunting reconnaissance photo taken after the bombing: the church standing amid the flattened city. It looks almost like a signpost in a wasteland. And there are the priests—small figures in the street—staring out over miles of ruin, giving thanks that they were spared to continue God’s work.

I don’t watch that and feel triumphant. I feel sobered. I feel the weight of what human beings can do to one another—and then, right beside it, the mystery of mercy. The story doesn’t erase the horror, but it plants a strange, stubborn light inside it: the reminder that prayer is not pretend, that grace is not an idea, and that God can still be present in the middle of a world that has gone utterly dark.

That’s why this has stayed with me. Not because I think I can explain it neatly, but because I can’t. And because, after all the books and films and arguments, this one testimony makes me want to pray—quietly, faithfully—like it matters.

Root Beer Floats by Indian Creek

Dear Diary,

It is about the hottest time of the whole Iowa summer, so today our Reading Club decided that the coolest place we could possibly meet was down by Indian Creek, on the grassy spot near the cave and not far from Shaggycoat’s lodge. The trees made plenty of shade, and the creek sounded cool even before we got near it.

After everyone settled down, Father LeRoy asked me to read my chapter summary.

My Chapter Summary

The troubles at Lourdes were finally quieting down, and Bishop Laurence’s Commission could begin its work without interference. Bernadette was questioned carefully and told her story simply and calmly, just as she always had. The Commissioners investigated the spring and the remarkable cures, listening to witnesses and doctors and accepting only what could be firmly established. Their purpose was not to prove a miracle, but to discover the truth.

Sister Mary Claire said that was the important part.

“Faith does not have to be afraid of careful questions,” she said. “If something is true, an honest investigation cannot hurt it.”

Father nodded and said there was a great difference between believing eagerly and believing wisely.

Then Robert suddenly said, “I think this meeting needs further investigation.”

He opened his big cooler.

Vanilla ice cream!

And underneath were cold bottles of root beer, tall glasses, straws, and everything else necessary for the finest root beer floats I think Indian Creek has ever seen.

Robert poured the root beer over the ice cream until the foam came right to the tops of the glasses. Then he reached into the cooler again and brought out a little dish he had packed especially for Mini. She got her very own scoop of plain vanilla ice cream, with no root beer of course.

I think Mini decided right then that Robert was the finest member of the Reading Club.

Afterward we all took off our shoes and stockings and went wading. Oh, that water was cold! We squealed at first, but pretty soon it felt wonderful.

I asked Sister Mary Claire, “How long do you suppose water has been running through Indian Creek?”

She looked up and down the valley and said that the answer went back farther than I could imagine, to the Ice Ages, tens of thousands of years ago.

She told us that enormous glaciers once covered great parts of this country. They moved slowly across the land, grinding rocks beneath them into gravel, sand, and the finest powder. When the ice melted, great streams carried much of it away. Later the prairie winds lifted some of that fine soil and laid it down across western Iowa, helping to make the deep, rich farmland we have today.

I tried to imagine our green Iowa countryside with great sheets of ice nearby, cold meltwater rushing through the valleys, and no farms, roads, churches, or cornfields anywhere. Then I looked down at Indian Creek sparkling around my bare feet and thought how very old this little corner of God’s world really is.

The afternoon was slipping away when Father LeRoy said, “I had better get home. There is still a Sunday sermon waiting for me.”

Before leaving, Father stood on the grassy bank, raised his hand, and gave all of us his blessing.

Then he started climbing the creek bank with Mini trotting faithfully behind him.

We watched until Father reached the top.

The instant Mini saw that he was safely there, she turned around and came racing straight back down the bank to Robert’s cooler!

We all laughed, and even Father turned around at the top of the hill and laughed with us.

It was one of those summer afternoons I wish could last forever—the shady creek, bare feet in cold water, root beer floats, good friends, Father’s blessing, and even a lesson about glaciers.

And Mini making absolutely certain Robert had not forgotten another scoop of vanilla ice cream.

Kathy

Truth, Ice Cream, and Father’s Perfect Cup of Coffee

Dear Diary,

This morning after Mass, we were all getting ready for the Reading Club when Father surprised us.

“No apple tree today,” he announced. “And no church basement either. Everybody into the Cadillac!”

Robert asked where we were going, but Father only said, “I am in need of a truly great cup of coffee.”

That was enough of an explanation for him.

We all piled into Father’s Cadillac and drove to Le Mars and the Wells Blue Bunny Ice Cream Shop. Mini sat close beside me and watched everything through the window. I think she knew we were going someplace wonderful.

Father had arranged the whole thing ahead of time. Behind the shop, the workers had placed a picnic table in the yard and covered it with a bright red-checkered tablecloth. There were napkins, spoons, cold water, and everything we needed for our meeting. It looked so cheerful and perfect that Mini and I could hardly believe it had all been prepared for us.

Father was handed a large cup of hot coffee almost as soon as we arrived. He took one sip, closed his eyes for a moment, and said, “Now this is coffee.”

We all laughed.

After everyone was seated, Father nodded for me to begin. I opened our book and read my shortened chapter summary.

Baron Massy, Jacomet, and several other officials who had opposed the events at Lourdes were transferred elsewhere. Bishop Laurence, meanwhile, wisely waited until the public excitement had calmed before beginning the Church’s official investigation.

On October 17, the commissioners came to Lourdes and questioned Bernadette. She spoke calmly and modestly, telling them about the Apparitions, the spring, Our Lady’s request for a chapel, and the words, “I am the Immaculate Conception.”

The commissioners then visited the Grotto and carefully examined the spring and the reported cures. They questioned the sick, their families, neighbors, witnesses, and doctors. Two physicians studied each case to decide whether the cure had a natural explanation or could only be explained by the power of God.

The investigation was very strict. Witnesses were allowed to speak only about what they had personally seen, and all doubtful stories were rejected. The commissioners wanted neither to accept miracles too quickly nor deny them too soon. They wanted only clear facts and the truth.

When I finished, Sister Mary Claire said she admired the patience of the Bishop. He had not rushed merely because people demanded an answer.

Robert said, “They investigated everything almost like detectives.”

Father held his coffee cup between both hands and replied, “That is because the Church has nothing to fear from an honest search for truth. A true miracle does not become less true because it is carefully examined.”

I thought about Bernadette standing before all those important men. She did not try to sound clever or impressive. She simply told them what had happened.

Sister said that humility and truth often walk together because a humble person does not need to add anything to the facts.

Then came the surprise food. The shop had prepared a great banana split for the whole club, with Wells Blue Bunny ice cream, sliced bananas, chocolate syrup, whipped cream, and bright red cherries. We each had our own dish too, and Mini received a little bowl of vanilla ice cream all her own.

Father was offered another cup of coffee. He accepted it at once.

The breeze stirred the red-checkered tablecloth, and the happy sounds from the ice cream shop drifted into the yard. It was certainly different from our usual meeting beneath the apple tree, but it felt just right.

Before we left, I led the closing prayer.

“Dear Blessed Mother, help us to love the truth and never be afraid to seek it honestly. Give us the quiet courage of Bernadette, the patience of Bishop Laurence, and hearts that trust God even when we must wait. Please bless all who are sick or suffering, and lead them closer to your Son, Jesus. Amen.”

Father raised his hand and gave us his blessing.

Then he finished the last of his coffee and said, “A good chapter, good ice cream, fine company, and excellent coffee. I believe this meeting has been a complete success.”

I believe so too.

Good night, dear Diary.

Kathy

Take me to YouTube

The Barriers Came

Dear Diary,

After Mass, our Reading Club gathered again beneath the apple tree behind St. Mary’s. Father LeRoy asked me to begin by reading the chapter summary and Mini sat right beside me.

The mayor of Lourdes finally announced that the decree against the Grotto had been revoked. His proclamation was read throughout the town with drums and trumpets, and notices were posted on the walls.

Jacomet and the policemen then went to the Grotto with axes and tools to remove the barriers. A large crowd had already gathered. Some people knelt in prayer, while others quietly waited. Many women prayed their rosaries, and some carried bottles to fill with water from the spring.

No one in the crowd touched the barriers. They waited for the officials who had put them up to remove them.

Jacomet gave a speech, claiming that he had always supported the people and had even pleaded their cause. The crowd listened in cold silence. Then he ordered his men to tear down the barriers and carry the boards away.

Soon the road to the Grotto was filled with people. They knelt before the rocks, sang hymns, prayed the Litany of the Blessed Virgin, and drank from the spring. At last, the faithful were free to pray at Massabielle again.

Robert said it was strange how quickly some officials tried to make themselves appear helpful after the struggle was over.

Sister Mary Claire said, “It is always better to admit that we were wrong than to pretend we were right all along.”

Then Sister surprised us with a beautiful pecan pie and freshly whipped cream. Everyone was delighted. Mini could not have pie, but she received a small dish of plain whipped cream.

When we finished, Father asked me to dismiss the club with prayer.

Dear Jesus,

Thank You for giving courage and patience to those who remained faithful during the persecution.

Help us to admit when we are wrong and never pretend that we did good when we did not.

May Our Lady of Lourdes strengthen all who suffer for their faith.

Bless our Reading Club, our families, and all who ask for our prayers.

Amen.

Father gave us his blessing, and we all went home thankful that the barriers had finally come down and the people were free to pray at the Grotto.

Kathy

The Emperor Opens the Grotto

Dear Diary,

After Mass, our Reading Club met beneath the apple tree as usual. The morning was warm and bright, and everyone seemed especially cheerful because today’s chapter brought such welcome news.

I read my chapter summary aloud. The newspapers that had attacked Lourdes had finally grown quiet. Their arguments had not stopped belief in the Grotto. Instead, all their writing had spread the news of the miracles throughout France and even into other countries. People from Italy, Germany, and farther away were asking for drops of water from the spring.

Still, the officials would not give up. M. Rouland, Baron Massy, Jacomet, and the guards continued trying to keep people away. They acted as though their own wishes were stronger than the Bishop, the people, the evidence, and even God.

Then two important men went to speak with Emperor Napoleon III at Biarritz. Petitions were also sent to him, asking that the people be allowed to pray at the Grotto, that the sick be allowed to seek healing, and that everyone be given the freedom to examine the events for themselves.

When the Emperor finally learned the whole truth, he became very displeased. He rang for a servant and sent a short message by telegraph. The order was clear: the decree against the Grotto was to be withdrawn immediately, and the people were to be given complete freedom.

For a moment, everyone under the apple tree was quiet. Then Robert said, “Well, it certainly took them long enough.”

Father smiled and said that human pride may delay the truth, but it cannot defeat it forever.

Sister Mary Claire said the chapter showed why we must never become discouraged when something is right. Things at Lourdes were finally beginning to straighten themselves out.

Then Father announced that we should celebrate. He had brought a large carton of Wells Blue Bunny vanilla ice cream and a can of Hershey’s chocolate syrup. Robert passed the bowls while Sister poured the syrup. Some of us had so much chocolate that the ice cream could hardly be seen.

Mini received a little bowl of plain vanilla ice cream. She ate it carefully at first, but soon her whole nose was white.

The discussion became very lively. We talked about liberty of conscience, the duty to seek the truth, and how God can use even opposition to spread His work. Father said that the enemies of Lourdes had tried to silence the story, but had instead carried it throughout the world.

When the bowls were empty, I closed our meeting with this prayer:

Dear Lord Jesus,

Thank You for giving courage to those who defended the truth at Lourdes. Help us to remain faithful when others oppose what is right. Keep us humble, patient, and brave, and grant freedom to all who seek You with sincere hearts. Through the prayers of Our Lady of Lourdes, lead us always closer to You.

Amen.

Father raised his hand and blessed us:

May Almighty God bless you, the Father, and the Son, and the Holy Ghost.

Amen.

Then we gathered the bowls and spoons while Mini searched the grass for one last drop of ice cream.

Good night, dear Diary.