The day the children had been waiting for finally arrived. At noon, Lucy, Jacinta, and Francis stood near the green oak tree, happy and eager to see the Lady again. About sixty people had come to watch. The children’s parents had been unsure about letting them go, but at last they gave permission.
As they waited, the children prayed the rosary. Then Lucy saw the bright light and called out, “She is coming!” They hurried toward the oak tree. There was the beautiful Lady, surrounded by the same lovely light.
Later, the priest’s warning troubled Lucy deeply. She wondered whether what they had seen could be the devil’s work. Frightening dreams disturbed her sleep, and her heart grew heavy with worry. At last, she decided she would not return to the Cova da Iria.
Jacinta cried, and Francis begged her to come, but Lucy was too afraid. She was only ten years old and carrying such a heavy burden. Even on this painful path of faith, she needed kindness, comfort, and understanding.
Rain again! Harvesting was at a standstill, and everyone seemed to be watching the sky for a change. Our Reading Club met in the church basement, where Sister was busy at the stove making biscuits and butter gravy. Mini shook the raindrops from her coat before settling near my chair, her nose already working.
While the biscuits baked, I read my summary of the end of Chapter Four.
“On May 13, 1917, Lucy, Francis, and Jacinta took their sheep to the Cova da Iria after Sunday Mass. They ate lunch, prayed the rosary, and began building a little stone house for a game.
“Suddenly, they saw a brilliant flash, although the sky was clear. Thinking a storm was coming, they gathered the sheep. Another flash stopped them, and near a young oak tree they saw a beautiful Lady dressed in radiant white.
“She reassured them and told Lucy that she came from Heaven. She asked the children to return on the thirteenth of each month for six months, promising to tell them who she was in October. She assured them that they would go to Heaven, adding that Francis must pray many rosaries.
“The Lady asked whether they would offer sacrifices and accept suffering for the conversion of sinners and in reparation for offenses against God and the Immaculate Heart of Mary. The children willingly agreed. She promised that God’s grace would sustain them.
“When she opened her hands, a wonderful light filled their souls, and they knelt in adoration. Before departing, she asked them to pray the rosary devoutly every day for peace in the world and the conversion of sinners.”
I put down my paper.
“Their day began so ordinarily,” I said. “Mass, sheep, lunch, and a game.”
“And they answered so willingly,” Sister added, bringing the biscuits to the table.
Father LeRoy nodded. “Remember the promise that went with their answer: God’s grace would help them. We can ask for that help in our own difficulties, too.”
We thought of the farmers waiting for their fields to dry, with so much work still ahead.
“We’ll remember them in our prayers,” I said.
Then Sister ladled butter gravy over the warm, split biscuits. Dear Diary, Sister’s butter gravy must be about the best gravy ever made. I asked how she made it and wrote down her simple recipe:
Sister’s Butter Gravy
4 tablespoons butter
3 tablespoons all-purpose flour
2 cups milk
Salt and black pepper to taste
Melt the butter in a skillet over medium-low heat. Stir in the flour and cook for one to two minutes, stirring constantly. Slowly whisk in the milk until smooth. Simmer gently, stirring, until thickened, about three to five minutes. Season to taste. Add a splash more milk if needed, and spoon over hot biscuits.
“Nothing very fancy,” Sister said.
Father took another spoonful. “There’s no improvement I can suggest.”
Mini sat beside him, remembering their last meeting and that fortunate double-yolk egg. This time I offered her a tiny crumb of plain biscuit. She checked Father’s hands afterward, just in case.
Before we left, Father raised his hand in blessing.
“May almighty God bless you, the Father, and the Son, and the Holy Spirit.”
“Amen,” we answered.
Then I offered a short prayer:
Dear Jesus, thank You for this warm table and the kindness we share. Bless the farmers waiting through the rain. Help us say yes to You with willing hearts, and teach us to pray faithfully for peace. Mary, our Mother, keep us close to your Son. Amen.
It was raining again so our Reading Club continued The Fatima Story today in the Church basement. Sister and I brought hard-boiled eggs, and there was toast and butter to go with them. But first, I read my chapter summary.
“Several months after his first appearance, the angel returned to Lucy, Francis, and Jacinta in the garden behind the well. He called himself the Angel of Portugal and asked them to pray, offer sacrifices for sinners, and pray for peace in their country. His words helped the children understand how deeply God loved them and how they could love Him in return.
“Throughout the summer, they continued tending their sheep while making prayer part of their days. In autumn, the angel appeared a third time, surrounded by brilliant light and holding a chalice beneath a suspended Host. He taught them a prayer to the Holy Trinity and gave them Holy Communion. Afterward, they remained in prayer, filled with peace. Finally, they gathered their sheep and went home, tired but joyful.”
For a moment, we were quiet.
“The sheep still had to be brought home,” Sister said. “That little detail stayed with me.”
“With all that had happened, they still had their ordinary work to do,” I agreed.
Father LeRoy nodded. “And ordinary duties give us plenty of opportunities to love God—being patient, helping willingly, remembering someone who needs our prayers.”
We talked about how a small kindness can require a little sacrifice: giving someone our time, taking a turn at an unwelcome chore, or holding back an unkind word.
“I could work on doing a chore without announcing how much trouble it is,” I admitted.
That earned a gentle laugh around the table.
Then we passed the toast and eggs. Wouldn’t you know it—Father LeRoy peeled his egg, broke it open, and found a double yolk!
“Well now!” he said, looking thoroughly pleased. “Your hens have been generous, Kathy.”
Mini appeared beside his chair so promptly that I wondered whether she had been counting eggs all along.
“And I see someone has come to admire it,” Father added.
He broke off a small piece of plain egg and offered it to her. Mini accepted with the greatest delicacy, then sat gazing up at him as though he had just become her favorite member of the Reading Club.
“There goes my faithful companion,” I said.
“Only as far as the egg,” Sister replied.
Before we left, I offered our closing prayer.
Dear Jesus, thank You for loving us through the ordinary moments of our days. Teach us to pray faithfully, to help willingly, and to offer our little difficulties with love. Bring peace to our country and draw wandering hearts close to You. Bless our Reading Club, our homes, and dear Mini. Help us remember You when there is work to do as well as when we are quiet in prayer. Amen.
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.
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.
