The Ride Home

Dear Diary,

The thermometer by the kitchen window read forty-six this morning, and the wind cut like a knife when we went out to meet Robert by the gate. His old pickup groaned to life, and when Sister Mary Claire asked if the heater was working, he gave a sheepish grin and said, “Not since last winter.” Mini hopped up onto the seat, then straight into Sister’s lap where she could fog the window with her breath. Her warm little body made the ride bearable as the truck rattled down the gravel road toward St. Mary’s.

Father LeRoy’s homily today was about angels. He said most of us picture them flying with wings as wide as clouds, but that’s only a picture to help our minds. The truth, he told us, is that angels don’t travel through space like we do at all. They are where they will to be—there in an instant. He said that’s how we should act when God stirs our hearts—without delay, like the angels moving at the speed of love.

Then he explained how angels can be in one place without taking up any space at all—like the soul that fills our whole body but cannot be measured. It made me think of how God’s grace can fill a heart without making a sound.

And even though they are invisible, Father said, angels can move the world—helping, protecting, and sometimes warning us when we stray. “They are spirit,” he said, “yet they touch what is real.” I thought about that all afternoon—how maybe our prayers reach them in ways no one can see, and how close heaven must be when I whisper a prayer.

The ride home was quieter. Mini slept with her nose against the cold glass, and I watched the corn stubble gleam silver under the pale sky. Even the fields looked like they were listening.

Evening Prayer

Dear Guardian Angel,
keep watch beside my bed tonight.
Help me act quickly when God calls,
and see His light in all

Dear Diary,

The thermometer by the kitchen window read forty-six this morning, and the wind cut like a knife when we went out to meet Robert by the gate. His old pickup groaned to life, and when Sister Mary Claire asked if the heater was working, he gave a sheepish grin and said, “Not since last winter.” Mini hopped up onto the seat, then straight into Sister’s lap where she could fog the window with her breath. Her warm little body made the ride bearable as the truck rattled down the gravel road toward St. Mary’s.

Father LeRoy’s homily today was about angels. He said most of us picture them flying with wings as wide as clouds, but that’s only a picture to help our minds. The truth, he told us, is that angels don’t travel through space like we do at all. They are where they will to be—there in an instant. He said that’s how we should act when God stirs our hearts—without delay, like the angels moving at the speed of love.

Then he explained how angels can be in one place without taking up any space at all—like the soul that fills our whole body but cannot be measured. It made me think of how God’s grace can fill a heart without making a sound.

And even though they are invisible, Father said, angels can move the world—helping, protecting, and sometimes warning us when we stray. “They are spirit,” he said, “yet they touch what is real.” I thought about that all afternoon—how maybe our prayers reach them in ways no one can see, and how close heaven must be when I whisper a prayer.

The ride home was quieter. Mini slept with her nose against the cold glass, and I watched the corn stubble gleam silver under the pale sky. Even the fields looked like they were listening.

Evening Prayer

Dear Guardian Angel,
keep watch beside my bed tonight.
Help me act quickly when God calls,
and see His light in all things.

Love,

Kathy

Dear Diary,

The thermometer by the kitchen window read forty-six this morning, and the wind cut like a knife when we went out to meet Robert by the gate. His old pickup groaned to life, and when Sister Mary Claire asked if the heater was working, he gave a sheepish grin and said, “Not since last winter.” Mini hopped up onto the seat, then straight into Sister’s lap where she could fog the window with her breath. Her warm little body made the ride bearable as the truck rattled down the gravel road toward St. Mary’s.

Father LeRoy’s homily today was about angels. He said most of us picture them flying with wings as wide as clouds, but that’s only a picture to help our minds. The truth, he told us, is that angels don’t travel through space like we do at all. They are where they will to be—there in an instant. He said that’s how we should act when God stirs our hearts—without delay, like the angels moving at the speed of love.

Then he explained how angels can be in one place without taking up any space at all—like the soul that fills our whole body but cannot be measured. It made me think of how God’s grace can fill a heart without making a sound.

And even though they are invisible, Father said, angels can move the world—helping, protecting, and sometimes warning us when we stray. “They are spirit,” he said, “yet they touch what is real.” I thought about that all afternoon—how maybe our prayers reach them in ways no one can see, and how close heaven must be when I whisper a prayer.

The ride home was quieter. Mini slept with her nose against the cold glass, and I watched the corn stubble gleam silver under the pale sky. Even the fields looked like they were listening.

Evening Prayer

Dear Guardian Angel,
keep watch beside my bed tonight.
Help me act quickly when God calls,
and see His light in all things.

Love,

Kathythings.

Love,

Kathy

Stand up Straight

Dear Diary,

It was 50 degrees this morning when Sister Mary Claire and I hurried to the gate with Mini trotting between us, her short legs moving fast on the gravel. The sky was cloudy and gray, and WNAX radio said the high would only reach 55 degrees—a good day to stay indoors, perhaps—but we were on our way to morning Mass.

Robert pulled up in his pickup and leaned out the window with his usual grin. “Morning, girls,” he said. Before I could even ask, he hopped out, scooped up Mini in his strong hands, and lifted her into the cab. She wasted no time—scrambled across the seat straight to the passenger door and right onto Sister Mary Claire’s lap. Mini pressed her nose to the cold window, fogging it up with her warm breath as she watched the fields and telephone poles go by. Every now and then she’d lick a little circle clear to see better, which made Sister laugh softly.

When we reached St. Mary’s, the church felt chilly as a cellar. The stove sat cold, and Father LeRoy hadn’t come yet. “Looks like he’s sleeping in today,” Robert said with a grin, and began stacking kindling to start a fire. Sister walked over to the rectory and tapped gently on the door, and soon Father appeared, a bit tousled but smiling, thanking her for waking him.

By the time Mass began, the stove was crackling, and warmth filled the little church. Father’s voice was calm and kind as he spoke on the Gospel of the woman who had been bent over for eighteen years. He said that Jesus showed how love is greater than rules, and mercy is never bound by the clock. “Each of us,” he said, “is bowed under something—but Jesus calls us to stand straight in His grace.” I pictured that woman standing tall and joyful again, and it made my heart feel light.

After Mass, Robert checked the stove one last time while Sister and I tidied the pews. Outside, the clouds hung low, and we decided it was a fine day to stay home with books and cocoa while Mini napped nearby.

Evening Prayer:

Dear Jesus, thank You for lifting what bends me low and for filling each gray day with Your gentle light. Help me to stand straight in Your love.

Love,

Kathy

The Firewood of Humble Hearts

 
Dear Diary

46 degrees

Robert’s pickup came rumbling down the lane early this morning, piled high with firewood for St. Mary’s. The air was frosty, and our breath puffed like smoke as Sister Mary Claire and I hurried out with our gloves on. Mini trotted right beside us, wagging her little bottom, thinking it was quite the adventure. Robert tipped his hat and said with a grin, “We’ll have the church stove fed for a week!” What a guy!

When we got to the church, the chill inside felt sharper than outdoors. Without wasting a minute, Sister and I pitched in full force, unloading wood from the back of the pickup and stacking it by the sacristy wall. Robert kept saying, “You girls sure work like champs!” I carried the smaller pieces, and Sister took the heavier ones, her cheeks pink from the cold. Mini guarded the tailgate like she was the foreman. Before long, we had the pile neatly stacked and ready for Father LeRoy to use through the week.

When Mass began, the stove already had a good fire going. The warmth spread through the plaster walls, and the smell of oak filled the church. Father LeRoy spoke about the Gospel of the day — the Pharisee and the tax collector. He said it wasn’t the proud one who pleased God, but the humble man who beat his breast and asked for mercy. Sister whispered softly, “It’s the heart that bends low that God lifts high.”

On the ride home, the pickup was empty but our hearts were full. Robert said the wood would make “holy heat,” and Sister laughed. Mini curled up on my lap, tuckered out from all her supervising.

The Fig Tree and Patience of God

Dear Diary

It was only 51 degrees when Robert’s pickup came rattling up to the gate this morning. The sky looked tired and gray, and the cornfields were nearly bare, just rows of stubble stretching toward the horizon. Mini jumped into the pickup with her little wiggle of excitement, as if she hadn’t done it a hundred times before. She nosed around on the seat until she found her place beside me, sitting so straight you’d think she was heading to Mass on her own.

Inside St. Mary’s, the air was cool and still, and I could smell the faint scent of candle wax. Father LeRoy read the Gospel about the fig tree that bore no fruit, and I tried to picture it standing lonely in an orchard, waiting for another chance. He said that Jesus told this parable to remind us that God is patient — always giving us another year, another season to grow good fruit in our lives.

Father said that sometimes we feel barren like that fig tree, with nothing to show, but God never gives up on us. He tends our hearts the way a gardener tends his soil — turning it over, fertilizing it with grace, and waiting patiently for something to bloom. He said that even when our hearts are slow to bear fruit, God’s mercy keeps us standing.

When we came out of Church, the wind carried the smell of damp earth. Robert said it wouldn’t be long before the first frost, and Sister Mary Claire agreed, pulling her coat tighter. Mini trotted ahead of us, chasing the leaves that skittered across the gravel road like little brown birds.

Evening Prayer:

Dear Jesus, thank You for being patient with me.

Help me to bear good fruit and to grow in kindness and love.

Let my heart be soft soil for Your grace.

Amen.

Love, Kathy

Reading the Signs of the Time

The morning began gray and cool, with a sky that looked unsure of itself. Sister Mary Claire, Mini, and I rode with Robert in his pickup to Church, the windows misty with the promise of rain. The air inside St. Mary’s felt hushed and still as Father LeRoy began the Gospel from Saint Luke, where Jesus told the crowds they could read the signs of the weather but not the signs of the times.

Just as Father LeRoy started his homily, a clap of thunder shook the church walls, and all at once the light dimmed until only the candles seemed awake. The rain poured down in sheets against the windows, so loud that Father LeRoy had to raise his voice a little. He smiled kindly and said, “Sometimes the Lord sends a storm to help us see what He means.”

He spoke about how we’re quick to notice clouds or sunshine, yet sometimes slow to notice the stirrings in our hearts — those quiet signs that tell us to forgive, to make peace, or to return to prayer. The thunder seemed to join his words like a drumbeat from Heaven, and I thought maybe Jesus uses storms to remind us how near He always is.

When Mass ended, the rain still fell, but softer now, and the windows glowed with light behind the clouds. Mini, who had sat so still between my legs through the whole storm, gave her little shake and looked up at me as if she understood every word.

Evening Prayer:

Dear Jesus, help me notice Your signs before the storm begins.

Let my heart be calm, even when thunder rolls.

Amen. 

Love, Kathy

Fire Upon the Earth

Dear Diary,

This morning it was 32 degrees, and frost glistened on the porch rail and pasture fence. Robert picked us up in his pickup for Mass, and the cab heater worked hard to keep the windows clear.

Father LeRoy read from Luke 12:49–53, where Jesus said He came to set the earth on fire. In his homily, Father told us that this fire is the burning love of God—a love that changes hearts and sometimes divides families when some follow Christ and others turn away. He said the fire Jesus brings is meant to purify the world, not destroy it.

The wood stove at the front of the church was roaring to beat the chill from the plaster walls. I could feel the warmth slowly spreading through the pews. Mini sat between my legs under the pew, her head resting on my boots. Every once in a while, her ears twitched when the logs popped in the stove. Sitting there beside Sister Mary Claire, I thought about how the love of Jesus really is like that fire—quiet at first, then growing warmer and stronger the longer we stay near Him.

Evening Prayer:

Dear Jesus, let Your holy fire warm my heart,

and help me spread Your light wherever I go.

Amen.

Click on Image to Read 

"Ready for the Master’s Coming"

Dear Diary,

Brrr! We woke to a hard frost this morning, and by the time we got to Church the coat rack looked ready to give up under everyone’s heavy coats. Sister Mary Claire’s wool one nearly tipped it all over when Robert helped her hang it up. The cold didn’t stop anyone from coming though — the Church was full and smelled of wet mittens and wood smoke from the stove.

Father LeRoy read from the Gospel of Luke 12:39–48, about being ready for the Lord, “for at an hour you do not expect, the Son of Man will come.” He said we don’t know when Jesus will return, so we should try to live every day as if He might come this very hour. Father said a good steward takes care of what’s been given to him — not just his work, but also his soul, his family, and even the little kindnesses that God puts in front of him. Sister Mary Claire whispered that this means even feeding the hens on a cold morning counts if it’s done with love.

When we got down to the cave later, the thermometer read 27 degrees! Mini didn’t seem to mind — her fur is thickening up fast for winter. No ice yet at the spring since the water moves too quick, but before long, watch out little fish! Shaggycoat wasn’t hiding from the cold today. He was chewing on a stick near the creek’s edge, and when he saw us, he hurried right over and got his carrot reward. Mini wagged her whole bottom in greeting.

The air down by the cave was so still, except for the stream running like a hymn. I said a small prayer for everyone to be ready and steady in heart, just like Father LeRoy said.

Evening Prayer

Dear Jesus, thank You for today’s Gospel and for teaching me to be ready for You.

Help me be faithful in little things and trust You in all seasons.

Keep Sister Mary Claire, Mini, and all my friends warm and safe tonight.

Amen.

Love,

Kathy

Sweet Jesus

Dear Jesus,

Thank You for choosing to die for us and for deciding the exact day and time to do it. I believe You planned every part of Your suffering and gave up Your life out of love for us.

Please help me love You with my whole heart, be truly sorry for my sins, and stay close to You when I’m tempted or having a hard time. Let my thoughts, words, and actions show that I belong to You. Help me gladly do the good things You want me to do.

Sweet Jesus, please hear my prayer. Amen.

"Keep Your Lamps Burning"

Dear Diary,

It was 62 degrees this morning, cool enough that Sister Mary Claire wrapped her shawl around her shoulders, but not too chilly for a good walk to Church. Robert’s pickup was on the blink again, so we set off down the gravel road on foot, with Mini trotting happily beside us. Her little fur coat is thickening for winter now, and she looked so pleased with herself—like she knew she was dressed just right for the day. The air smelled fresh, and the sun was only beginning to warm the fields.

At Mass, Father LeRoy talked about today’s Gospel where Jesus tells us to “gird our loins and light our lamps.” He said that means we should always be ready for the Lord, even when we don’t know when He will come. Father said it’s like keeping our hearts burning bright, full of love and kindness, so when Jesus knocks, we can open right away. He reminded us that the Lord blesses those who are watchful—not worried watchful, but loving watchful. He said being prepared doesn’t mean fear; it means living each day doing small good things with a happy heart, because we never know when Jesus might pass by.

When we walked home, Sister Mary Claire said she thought that maybe keeping our lamps lit also means not letting our faith grow dim when things feel quiet or ordinary. I liked that. Even the little chores and walks can be part of waiting for Jesus.

Evening Prayer:

Dear Jesus, help me keep my lamp shining bright with love for You.

Let my heart stay ready and my soul be light.

Love,

Kathy

"Rich in What Matters"

Dear Diary,

It was 52 degrees when Robert pulled his pickup up to the garden gate this morning. The sky looked pale and thin, like the sun was trying to shine through a wool blanket. Sister Mary Claire buttoned her coat tight and helped me lift Mini into the cab. Robert leaned out his window with his usual kind smile and said, “Morning, girls! Cold one, but we’ll beat the freeze yet.” Then he laughed softly and waited while we climbed in. Mini sat between us, warm as toast, her ears twitching every time the truck rattled over a bump.

At Mass, Father LeRoy read from the Gospel of Luke—about the rich man who tore down his barns to build bigger ones so he could store all his grain and goods. But then, God called him a fool because he had stored up treasure for himself and not for God.

Father explained that sometimes we think we’ll be safe if we have enough things—food, money, clothes—but those things don’t last. He said our real riches are the ones we build in Heaven: kindness, prayer, love, and sharing what we have with others. Sister whispered that our barns should be in our hearts, filled with goodness instead of grain. I liked that thought very much.

On the way home, Mini curled up by my coat and sighed, the way she does when she’s sleepy and content. Robert said the frost might come tonight, so we’d better cover the garden one more time. I’ll help after supper. The air smells like cold earth and woodsmoke—autumn’s kind of perfume.

"The Widow Who Never Gave Up"

Dear Diary,

It was 40 degrees this morning when Robert pulled into the yard with his pickup, the windows fogged from the cold. Sister Mary Claire and I hurried out, our breath puffing white in the frosty air. Mini tried to jump into the truck, but the step was too high, so I lifted her up and set her gently on the seat between us. Robert chuckled and said, “That’s one pampered passenger,” as he turned the truck toward St. Mary’s. The heater groaned and rattled, but it took the edge off the chill as we rode down the gravel road through the gray October morning.

At Mass, Father LeRoy read the Gospel about the widow who kept asking the judge for justice until he finally listened to her. Father said that Jesus told this story to remind us to keep praying and not give up, even when it feels like God is quiet. “Faith,” he said, “isn’t proved by quick answers but by hearts that keep praying.” I liked that very much—it made me think that Jesus treasures every prayer, even the ones that seem small.

It didn’t warm up much all day, so Mini and I went to the cave instead of Bernadette’s Spring. The air inside was cool but still, and I lit a little candle by Our Lady’s grotto. I said the Litany of Our Lady and then prayed the Rosary, thinking about the widow who kept going back to the judge. I asked Mary to help me pray like that—with patience, faith, and trust. Mini stayed curled beside me, her little head resting on my knee while the spring bubbled softly nearby.

Dear Jesus, help me to keep praying with faith, even when I don’t see answers right away. Teach me to trust You like the widow did, and to rest in Your peace. And dear Mary, please keep my prayers close to your heart tonight.

Amen.

Love, Kathy

"Peace to This Household"

Dear Diary,

The morning began cool and gray, with the fields wrapped in fog and a few golden leaves sticking to the wet grass. Robert’s pickup came slowly down the road, tires crunching on the gravel, and he waved for us to hop in. Mini dashed ahead, her paws splashing through little puddles. Sister Mary Claire and I climbed into the cab, and the three of us rode together to St. Mary’s.

At Mass, Father LeRoy read the Gospel where Jesus sent out seventy-two disciples in pairs to preach and bring peace to the towns He would visit. Father said that Jesus wanted them to trust completely in God—to travel light, without extra things, and to greet each person with peace. He explained that when Jesus said, “Peace to this household,” He meant more than a friendly hello. He meant bringing the calm of Heaven wherever they went. “When we truly carry Christ inside,” Father said, “we don’t just talk about peace—we bring it with us.” I liked that very much. It made me think about how even small kindnesses can spread God’s peace.

Later this afternoon, Sister Mary Claire and I walked down to Bernadette’s Spring. The fog had lifted, and the water ran clear and bright toward Indian Creek. We sat on the mossy bank while Mini chased a leaf floating in the stream. I listened to the bubbling of the spring and thought about what Father said—that Jesus wants us to bring peace wherever we go. The spring seemed to be doing that all by itself, spreading its calm water through the meadow and into the creek, just as His peace flows from one heart to another.

Evening Prayer:

Dear Jesus, help me to be like one of Your little messengers, bringing peace wherever I go. Let my heart be as steady as the spring and as gentle as Your love. Thank You for Sister Mary Claire, for Mini, and for the quiet gift of this day.

Amen.

Love, Kathy

“The Quiet Flow of God’s Love”

 
Dear Diary,

The morning started cold and bright, with a little frost on the grass and the kind of sunshine that makes the whole world sparkle. Sister Mary Claire and I had just finished buttoning our coats when Robert’s pickup came rattling down the road. He stopped right by the house and called, “Hop in before you freeze!” Mini ran ahead of us and jumped right into the cab the moment Robert opened the door. She settled herself proudly in the middle of the seat, as if she had been invited first. We all laughed, and Robert said, “Looks like I’ve got a new foreman.”

At Mass, Father LeRoy read from the Gospel of St. Luke where Jesus told the people to beware of the leaven of the Pharisees. Father said that the leaven meant hypocrisy—pretending to be good on the outside while the heart is far from God. “It’s better,” he said, “to be small and honest before God than to look perfect and proud.” He reminded us that God knows even the tiniest things—He sees the sparrows, and He knows every hair on our heads. “So do not be afraid,” Father said, “for you are precious to Him.”

This afternoon, I found a little time to walk down to the cave. The air inside was cool and still, and the small stream whispered softly near Our Lady’s grotto. I knelt and prayed the Rosary, thinking about what Father said—how God sees even the smallest things, and how I want my heart to stay simple and true. When I finished, I listened to the gentle bubbling of the spring and thought how its clear water never stops flowing—just like God’s love, quiet and steady, always there.

Evening Prayer:

Dear Jesus, help me to stay honest and kind in all I do. Let my heart be clean and full of love, and never afraid, knowing You see and care for me always.

Amen.




Love, Kathy

Bernadette's Spring

Thursday, October 16, 1956

Dear Diary,

This afternoon, Sister Mary Claire and I walked down to Bernadette's Spring the one that feeds into Indian Creek. The air was cool and smelled like wet grass, and the trees along the creek were turning yellow and gold. The water from the spring bubbled up so clear that we could see the pebbles on the bottom. Sister said the spring reminded her of the one at the Lourdes Grotto, and she smiled when she told me both springs flow about the same—quietly, steadily, and full of life. Mini followed along the bank, splashing her little paws and chasing floating leaves.

Earlier at Mass, Father LeRoy read the Gospel where Jesus spoke to the Pharisees, warning them that they honored the prophets but did not follow their teachings. Father said Jesus was trying to open their hearts so they could see that it is not enough to know God’s words—we must live them. “Faith isn’t only in our heads,” he said, “it has to reach our hands and hearts.”

Sitting beside the spring, Sister Mary Claire explained it to me in her gentle way. She said that truth and love are like the spring’s water—they must flow outward, not stay hidden or still. “When we keep God’s love moving in us,” she said, “it brings life to everything it touches.” I liked that very much. I watched the water sparkle and thought maybe the spring itself was teaching the same lesson.

Evening Prayer:

Dear Jesus, help me to keep Your love flowing in my heart like Bernadette’s Spring—clear, steady, and kind. May my words and actions bring Your goodness to others, just as the water brings life to the creek.

Amen.


Love, Kathy

“Washed Clean Within”

Dear Diary,

It rained all morning, steady and cold, and the yard was filled with puddles that reached clear up to the porch steps. The air smelled like wet earth and corn husks, and the sky was the color of pewter. Mini looked out the door and gave a little sigh—there wasn’t a single dry spot for her anywhere. When Robert’s pickup came rolling down the road, he pulled right up to the end of the house sidewalk so we wouldn’t have to splash through the puddles. He leaned out the window and called, “No walking in this weather today!” Sister Mary Claire and I climbed in quickly, and Mini shook herself off before curling up between us on the seat.

At Church, Father LeRoy read from the Gospel where Jesus spoke to the Pharisee who wondered why He didn’t wash before eating. Father said Jesus was teaching that God cares more about the heart than about how clean our hands are. “It’s not enough to look good on the outside,” Father told us. “A pure heart—filled with love, honesty, and kindness—is what makes us truly clean before God.” I thought about that as I watched the rain slide down the church windows, thinking how God can wash our hearts clean too, just like the rain washes the earth.

When we got home, Robert waited until we were safely on the porch before driving away through the mud. Sister Mary Claire made tea while Mini and I sat by the window listening to the soft patter of rain. Everything felt peaceful and good.

Love, Kathy

Wednesday — Prayer for Mercy and Compassion
The Litany of the Blessed Virgin Mary
Night Prayer
Printable Prayers

“Clean Inside and Warm Within”

Dear Diary,

It was only 45 degrees this morning, and I could see my breath when I went out to feed the hens. The grass was frosty around the edges, and even Mini didn’t stay outside long. Just as Sister Mary Claire and I were getting ready to bundle up for the walk to the mailbox, we heard Robert’s pickup coming down the road. He drove right into the yard and called out the window, “No sense freezing this morning! Hop in!” I was so thankful not to have to make that cold walk.

At Church, Father LeRoy read the Gospel about how Jesus told the Pharisees that they cleaned the outside of the cup and dish but forgot about what was inside. Father said that Jesus was teaching us that what really matters is our heart—that being clean on the inside, where our thoughts and love come from, is what pleases God most. “We can look good on the outside,” Father said, “but it’s kindness, honesty, and prayer that make us truly clean.” I thought about how I want to keep my heart tidy for Jesus, the way Sister keeps the altar cloths—fresh and white.

When Robert drove us home, I noticed two big metal tubes in the back of his pickup. I asked what they were, and he grinned. “For the John Hathaway room in the cave, little lady,” he said. “You’re getting a new wood burner stove—straight from Vermont!” I almost couldn’t believe it! My very own stove for the cave! I think I said “Oh!” about three times before remembering to thank him properly. Sister Mary Claire smiled and said that now the cave would stay warm even in winter. Mini wagged her whole body as if she understood.

Love, Kathy

“The Sign of Jonah”

Dear Diary,

The morning was cool and bright, and the fields were shining with dew when Sister Mary Claire and I walked down the gravel road to St. Mary’s for Holy Mass. Mini trotted happily beside us, her little feet pattering on the stones. The church bell was ringing softly as we came near, and the autumn air smelled like wood smoke and dry corn husks.

Father LeRoy read the Gospel where Jesus said that no sign would be given to the people except the sign of Jonah. Father explained that the people wanted proof before they would believe, but Jesus wanted them to understand that He Himselfwas the sign. Just as Jonah called the people of Nineveh to turn their hearts to God, Jesus calls us to do the same. Father said we don’t need miracles to know God is near—love and faith are His greatest signs.

This afternoon, I went to the cave with Mini. The air inside was cool and still, and the sound of the little stream echoed softly against the walls. I knelt before Our Lady’s statue and prayed the Joyful Mysteries of the Rosary. I thought about the angel’s visit to Mary, and how she said yes without needing any sign at all. When I finished, I said the Litany of Our Lady, and the cave felt so peaceful that even Mini lay very still beside me.

Love, Kathy

“The Thankful Heart”

Dear Diary,

The sun peeked through the morning fog just as Robert’s pickup came rattling down the road toward the end of our driveway. Sister Mary Claire and I were already waiting, and Mini was wagging so hard her whole body wobbled. Robert leaned over and opened the door, saying, “Hop in, church bells will be ringing soon.” The air was crisp and clean, and the fields looked golden in the early light.

At Mass, Father LeRoy read the Gospel about the ten lepers who asked Jesus to heal them. Father said that only one came back to say thank you, and that Jesus noticed. He told us that being thankful is one of the best ways to show our love for God. “Faith that forgets to thank,” Father said, “is only half alive.” He reminded us that every blessing we have—our home, our family, even the air we breathe—is a gift meant to turn our hearts toward gratitude. I thought of how often I forget to thank God for small things, like sunshine or Mini’s happy bark.

After supper, Sister Mary Claire and I listened to Bishop Robert Barron’s Sunday Sermon on my little transistor radio. His voice came through soft and steady, talking about how gratitude opens the door to grace. He said the thankful leper not only received healing but also friendship with Christ—and that thanksgiving always leads us closer to Him. Mini lay between us on the rug, her ears twitching now and then, while the fire popped in the stove. I felt calm and warm inside, thinking how wonderful it is that God listens even to little hearts like mine.

Love, Kathy

“Listening Like Mary”

Dear Diary,

The morning was gray and cool, and I could see my breath when I went outside. Sister Mary Claire and I waited by the mailbox for Robert, and Mini sat beside me, her little bottom wiggling when the pickup came up the road. Robert smiled and said it felt like fall for sure. I think he’s right—the air smells like leaves and corn husks now.

At Church, Father LeRoy read the Gospel "While Jesus was speaking, a woman from the crowd called out and said to him, “Blessed is the womb that carried you and the breasts at which you nursed.” He replied, “Rather, blessed are those who hear the word of God and observe it.” Father said that Jesus wasn’t saying His Mother wasn’t blessed—He was showing why she is. Mary listened to God and did what He asked her to do. Father said that when we listen to God in our hearts and try to do what is right, we are blessed too. I liked that because it makes me feel that even small things—like being kind or saying my prayers—matter to God.

This afternoon, Mini and I went to the cave again. The air inside was cool and smelled damp, and I wondered how much longer we could come before it got too cold. I knelt by Our Lady’s grotto and said my Rosary, then prayed the Litany of Our Lady. I said it slowly, so I could think about each name—“Mother of Good Counsel,” “Comforter of the Afflicted,” “Queen of Peace.” The candle flickered, and Mini lay beside me, her eyes half closed, as if she were praying too.

“A Heart Filled with Light”

Dear Diary,

The sky was heavy with clouds this morning, and the wind smelled like rain. Sister Mary Claire wrapped her shawl tight around her shoulders as we waited by the mailbox for Robert. Mini wagged her whole bottom when his pickup came rattling down the gravel road. Robert smiled and said, “Hop in, girls, we’ll beat the rain yet.” Mini sat between us on the seat, her paws tucked neatly, watching the gray fields roll past.

At Church, Father LeRoy read from the Gospel of St. Luke about how Jesus cast out a demon, and the people accused Him of using evil power to do it. Father said in his homily that Jesus wanted everyone to understand that good and evil cannot live in the same heart, just as a house divided cannot stand. When we let Jesus rule our hearts, he said, His light drives away every dark corner. Father told us, “If you fill your heart with prayer, charity, and truth, there will be no empty room left for evil to come back in.”

After dinner, Mini and I walked down to the cave before the rain began. The air inside was damp and sweet, and the sound of dripping water echoed softly. I knelt at Our Lady’s grotto, lit the little candle, and prayed the Sorrowful Mysteries slowly, bead by bead. When I finished, I said Our Lady's Litany, whispering each holy name that praises her. I thought of Father’s words about keeping our hearts full of goodness, and I prayed that mine would always belong to Jesus and His Mother. Mini rested beside me, half asleep, her ears twitching at the cave’s quiet sounds.

Love, Kathy

Knocking on Heavens Door

Dear Diary,

This morning was chilly and gray, and a little fog hung over the pasture when we met Robert at the mailbox. Mini hopped right into the cab, and I sat between her and Sister Mary Claire. Robert said the air smelled like rain, but I thought it smelled like October—kind and quiet. The church bell was still ringing when we pulled up to St. Mary’s, and Mini gave one soft bark, as if to say she was glad to be there too.

Father LeRoy read from the Gospel of St. Luke about the man who kept knocking on his friend’s door at midnight. He told us that Jesus wants us to pray just like that—persistently and trustfully—never giving up even when Heaven seems silent. “God is never annoyed by your knocking,” Father said. “He opens the door at the right time, and gives not just bread, but Himself.” I liked that very much. Sister Mary Claire whispered afterward that even a simple prayer said with faith is like tapping gently on God’s heart.

After chores this afternoon, Mini and I went to the cave. The air inside was cool and still, and the little stream trickled softly at the grotto. I lit the tiny candle near Our Lady’s statue and knelt to say The Rosary I prayed slowly, thinking about each mystery as if I could see them through Mary’s eyes. When I finished, I said the Litany of the Blessed Virgin Mary—one title at a time—until the cave felt filled with her gentle presence. Mini lay beside me, her head on her paws, watching the candlelight dance on the stone wall.

Love, Kathy

Teach Us to Pray

Dear Diary,

It was cool and still this morning, with the corn stalks standing quiet in the fields like rows of golden sentinels. Sister Mary Claire, Mini, and I walked down the gravel road to meet Robert’s pickup for Holy Mass. Mini sat between us in the cab, her ears straight out like airplane wings whenever the wind slipped through the cracked window.

At Church, Father LeRoy read from the Gospel of St. Luke where the disciples asked Jesus to teach them to pray. Jesus gave them the beautiful words we all know so well—the Our Father. Father said that prayer is like breathing for the soul, and the Our Father is the most perfect breath of all, because it was taught by Our Lord Himself. He reminded us that each time we pray it, we’re speaking to God as His children—trusting Him for our daily bread, forgiveness, and protection.

After dinner, Mini and I went to the grotto. The little stream murmured softly, and the statue of Our Lady looked peaceful under the gray autumn sky. I sat on the rock and practiced Mary’s Little Litany, the one I’m trying to memorize. I said each line slowly, looking up at her gentle face. Mini laid down beside me, her chin on her paws, as if she, too, were listening. I whispered St. Bernard’s Memorare first, the way I always do, and it made me feel so close to Mary—as though she were right there beside me, nodding kindly.

Love, Kathy

The Better Part

Dear Diary,

It was 37 degrees when Robert’s pickup rumbled into the lane this morning, its headlights like little suns in the cold mist. I wrapped my scarf tight and lifted Mini up first—she gave a shiver but looked proud to be going to church all the same. Sister Mary Claire climbed in beside me, and we huddled close on the seat while Robert said the heater was “trying its best.” You could see our breath in the cab, curling up like little prayers.

The fields looked sleepy under a gray sky, and the fence posts were tipped with frost. By the time we reached St. Mary’s, the bell was already ringing, and it felt so good to step into the warm air that smelled faintly of candles and pine polish.

The Gospel reading was from Luke 10:38–42—about Jesus visiting Martha and Mary. Mary sat quietly at His feet, listening, while Martha hurried about with all the serving. When Martha asked Jesus to tell her sister to help, He gently said, “Martha, Martha, you are anxious and worried about many things. There is need of only one thing. Mary has chosen the better part.”

Father LeRoy spoke softly in his homily today. He said Martha’s work was good and necessary, but her heart was too restless. He told us that Jesus doesn’t want us to stop serving—but to serve with peace, not worry. “The better part,” he said, “is to sit close to Christ in all you do—to make every chore, every kindness, a way of listening to Him.”

Sister Mary Claire smiled at that, and I thought how much she reminds me of both sisters—Martha in her busy hands and Mary in her quiet prayers. On the ride home, Robert said the creek had skim ice already, and Mini pressed her nose to the cold window like she was checking for herself.

I think I’ll try to be more like Mary this week—listening while I work, letting my heart stay still even when my hands are busy.

Love, Kathy

The Good Samaritan and the Grotto

Dear Diary,

Robert pulled up by the mailbox this morning, his pickup shining from the dew. Mini wagged her whole little self when she saw him. Sister Mary Claire and I climbed in, and I sat in the middle with Mini between us on my lap. The windows were a bit foggy, and the heater hummed softly while we rode the gravel road to St. Mary’s for Holy Mass.

Father LeRoy read from the Gospel of Saint Luke about the Good Samaritan. He said that loving God and loving our neighbor are really the same thing, and that mercy is the proof of true faith. “Do this and you shall live,” he said, looking right at us as if he wanted each heart to take those words home.

On the way back, Robert didn’t say much at first, but after a while he said, “Seems like being a neighbor ain’t about fences, is it, Sister?” She smiled and answered, “It’s about the heart that crosses over them.” We all laughed a little, and Mini gave a happy bark like she agreed. Robert dropped us off at the mailbox again, gave a wave, and said he’d bring over some kindling next time around.

Later in the afternoon, I went with Mini down to the grotto cave. The air was cool and still, and the little stream whispered near the grotto steps. I lit a candle before Our Lady and tried to recite the Blessed Virgin Mary from memory. Mother most pure… Mother most chaste… The words echoed softly against the stone walls. I asked the Blessed Mother to help me love my neighbors the way her Son taught in today’s Gospel—to stop when others walk by, to be gentle even when no one sees.

Mini rested by the candlelight, eyes half closed. For a moment, it felt as though mercy itself filled the cave like warm air after rain.

Evening Prayer

Dear Jesus, help me to love You with all my heart, and to see You in everyone who crosses my path.

Let me be kind, like the Good Samaritan, and gentle, like Your Mother at the grotto.

Amen.




Love,

Kathy

Faith Like a Mustard Seed

Dear Diary,

It was 63 degrees this morning, bright and cool with the scent of dried corn in the air. When Robert’s pickup stopped at the lane, Sister Mary Claire and I climbed in, and Mini scrambled right up after us. Sister sat by the window, Mini and I in the middle, and Robert started down the gravel road toward St. Mary’s.

The radio was already tuned to Bishop Barron’s Sunday Sermon. His voice came clear and gentle through the hum of the engine as he spoke about faith—how even if it’s only the size of a mustard seed, it can do great things. He said faith grows when we trust God in the ordinary moments of life and serve Him without seeking reward.

By the time we reached the churchyard, the mist had lifted and the bell was ringing. Father LeRoy’s homily was on the same Gospel. He said that when we do what is right and humble ourselves before God, that’s when faith takes root deep inside our hearts.

On the way home, Sister said, “Kathy, Bishop Barron and Father LeRoy both spoke of faith as something living—it grows by use.” Robert nodded and said, “That’s what keeps a person steady when the wind blows the other way.” Mini gave a soft yawn and rested her head against my arm.

When we reached the mailbox, Robert stopped and waved as we climbed out. The pickup rattled down the road, leaving only a trail of dust behind. The fields were golden and quiet, and I thought again about that tiny mustard seed—so small, yet filled with all the strength of heaven.

Evening Prayer:

Dear Lord, help my faith to grow, even if it begins as small as a mustard seed. Teach me to trust You in the little things and to serve You gladly each day. Let my heart rest steady in Your care. Amen.

Love,

Kathy

Blessed Are the Eyes That See

Dear Diary,

It was already 70 degrees when Robert pulled up at the end of the driveway this morning. Mini barked once as if to say she was ready for Church, and Sister Mary Claire climbed in with her little Gospel book already open. On the way, she read today’s passage from Saint Luke — about the seventy-two disciples returning full of joy because even the demons obeyed them in Jesus’ name. Jesus told them not to rejoice because of that, but because their names were written in Heaven.

Sister said softly that it’s easy for us to feel proud when something goes right, but the true joy is belonging to God — that’s what Jesus meant. Then she smiled and read again the part about how God reveals Himself to the childlike. She said that doesn’t mean being childish, but trusting and humble, like children who listen with open hearts.

At Mass, Father LeRoy’s homily made it even clearer. He said Jesus was rejoicing because the disciples were beginning to understand that everything good comes from the Father through Him. “The wise and the proud,” Father said, “often miss Heaven’s simplest gifts — the ones seen best through childlike eyes.” I thought about that during Communion and wondered if maybe that’s why I notice small things — like the light in the grotto, or Mini’s quiet sighs — and feel God there.

This afternoon, the air turned warm and golden, so Sister and I decided to visit the cave while we could, before the weather turns cold like the radio said it would. Inside, the air was cool and smelled of earth and pine needles. The light in the grotto was especially lovely — a thin beam of sunshine slipping through the crack above and falling right on the little statue of Our Lady. It made the stone sparkle and the trickling water look alive, as if Heaven itself were breathing into that small corner. Sister said it reminded her of the Holy Spirit finding His way into every open heart, no matter how hidden. I just sat there, feeling wrapped in that light.

Mini lay beside me with her chin on my shoe, watching the glow move across the walls. It was one of those moments that felt full — like we were seeing something precious that prophets and kings longed to see.

Evening Prayer:

Dear Jesus, thank You for this gentle day and for showing Yourself in ways a child can understand. Keep my heart small enough to see You, and write my name forever in Heaven. Amen.

Love,

Kathy

Robert's Promise

 

Dear Diary,

This morning the air was cool, just 63 degrees, and Robert picked us up in his truck for Holy Mass. Sister, Mini, and I climbed in, and Mini curled up at my feet as we rode along the gravel road.

At Church, Father LeRoy read from the holy Gospel according to Luke. Jesus spoke of Chorazin and Bethsaida and how they had not turned their hearts to God, even after mighty deeds. Father explained that when we hear the Word and see God’s goodness, but turn away, we risk losing the greatest gift of all—our closeness to Him. He said we are blessed here at St. Mary’s, for even in our small church we hear His Word each day, and that is something we must never take for granted.

On the ride home, Sister said that the Gospel teaches us to listen with our hearts. Robert nodded and added that he sometimes feels God speaking through the land and the chores, and it’s up to him to answer by living rightly. His words stayed with me as the truck rumbled along the gravel road.

At the end of the driveway, Robert let us out and promised to bring a little firewood over next time. I thought of Father’s homily and how listening to God means answering with love. Robert’s promise seemed like just that—hearing God in his heart and answering with kindness toward us.

Evening Prayer

Dear Jesus,

Help me to always listen with my heart when You speak.
Let me never turn away from Your Word, but treasure it as the greatest gift.

Keep our home in Your peace tonight.

Love,

Kathy

The Birthday Girl

Dear Diary

This morning Robert gave us a ride to church. The pickup was warm and cheerful, but when we arrived, the church itself looked dark and still, even though there were cars outside. Sister and I wondered if maybe we were early or if something was wrong. We walked up the steps, pushed open the heavy door, and Sister reached for the switch.

The moment the lights flicked on, the whole church filled with voices singing “Happy Birthday!” to me! My eyes filled right up with tears, and I felt the biggest little smile spread across my face. Mini let out two quick barks, then sat down firmly on my foot — her way of showing me her love and saying, “This is my girl!”

It was such a surprise that I hardly knew what to do but bow my head. I felt so very loved, right there in the house of God.

Today’s Gospel reading was from Matthew 18:1-5, 10. Jesus told His disciples that whoever wants to be the greatest in Heaven must become like a child. He even placed a child in their midst to show them.

When Father LeRoy stood to preach, he paused and looked toward me. His voice was warm as he said, “Today Our Lord calls a child into the midst of His disciples, and how fitting it is on Kathy’s birthday. She is one of our own little ones, and through her joy and trust we are reminded of what the Kingdom of Heaven looks like. The angels who watch over every child surely rejoice today, for in Kathy we glimpse the simplicity and love Christ asks of us all.”

I felt my cheeks burn red, but my heart swelled with gladness. For a moment I thought of all the little ways I could keep my heart childlike — helping Sister, playing with Mini, and whispering prayers to Mary. Maybe those are the very things Jesus loves most.

Evening Prayer

O dear Jesus, thank You for this birthday, for Father LeRoy’s words that wrapped my heart in Your love, for the surprise of the parish singing to me, for Mini’s two happy barks and her warm little paws, and for the blessing of being Your child.

Keep me always small in my own eyes, but great in Yours through love and trust.

Amen.

Love,

Kathy 

Breakfast at the Breakfast Club

Dear Diary,

Robert picked us up this morning in his pickup, saying 54 degrees was far too cold for walking. Sister Mary Claire agreed, and I was glad when he pulled up by the mailbox. The truck was already warmed, and Mini hopped right in as if she had been waiting all along. I tucked close to Sister while Robert drove us to St. Mary’s.

At Mass, Father LeRoy preached on today’s Gospel where Jesus said, “Foxes have dens and birds of the sky have nests, but the Son of Man has nowhere to rest his head.” Father explained that Jesus wanted us to know following Him takes real commitment. It’s not about being comfortable or waiting until everything in life is settled. It’s about trusting Him first, before all else.

Father said it’s easy to say, “I’ll follow You tomorrow, Lord,” but tomorrow never seems to come. We can’t look back at what we’re leaving behind, like someone who starts plowing a field but keeps turning around. The rows would be crooked. To follow Jesus, we must keep our eyes forward, steady on Him, just like Robert keeps his eyes on the gravel road so the truck doesn’t wander.

After Mass, Robert drove us over to the Breakfast Club. The cousins had the griddle hot and ready, and soon our table was filled with fried eggs, thick slices of toast, and steaming coffee with Kalona cream. Mini curled under the table, her ears sharp as if she hoped for a dropped crumb. Hayden came by with a wink, saying the yolks looked like sunshine on a plate, and Caleb refilled our cups. Sister laughed that no one could ever leave the Breakfast Club hungry.

As I buttered my toast, I thought about what it means to give up everything to follow Jesus. I don’t have much, but sometimes I still catch myself worrying over the little things—like missing out on some fun or wishing for more comforts. Sister reminded me gently that those little worries aren’t worth clinging to. When we keep our eyes on Jesus, we never really lose anything at all. Instead, He fills us with more than we could ever imagine. That made me feel light inside.

Evening Prayer

Dear Jesus, thank You for calling me to follow You. Help me not to look back, but to keep my eyes on You, like straight rows in the field. Give me courage to put You first, even when it’s hard. Amen.

Love,

Kathy

Morning at Camp Littlemore Farm

 

Dear Diary,

This morning it was 52 degrees, crisp and cool, as we all walked back to the farm from Holy Mass. The air smelled of damp earth and the fields readying for harvest. Mini trotted happily between us, her little bottom wagging with each step. Father LeRoy walked with Sister Mary Claire, and Robert and I followed close behind.

Sister said she was glad Father and Robert could come for breakfast, since the hens have been laying more brown eggs than we can use. We all laughed as I told about gathering another basket full just yesterday.

When we got home, Sister warmed the bread in the oven and poured fresh coffee, and I helped by beating the big golden yolks with Kolona whipping cream. Soon the table was set, and we all sat down together. Father LeRoy said no one could ask for a better start to the day than farm eggs, Sister's homemade Wonder Bread, and coffee with cream thick enough to sit on top.

As we ate, Sister spoke about the Gospel. Jesus was on His way to Jerusalem, but the Samaritan village wouldn’t welcome Him. James and John wanted to call fire down from heaven, but Jesus rebuked them and went on. Father nodded and said the Lord’s way is peace, not anger. Robert added that it means we don’t waste our time trying to fight people into faith—we just keep walking forward, like Jesus did, steady toward God’s will.

I thought about that while buttering my bread. It reminded me of the hens—if one nest is already taken, they don’t fight about it, they just move along to the next. No fussing, just going on. And Mini, wagging under the table, only cared about being near us, not about who said no to her. I want to follow Jesus like that—peacefully, without complaint.

Evening Prayer

Dear Jesus, thank You for the gift of Your peace. Help me to walk forward with You and not grow angry when things are hard. Teach me to welcome others with kindness and to trust You always. Amen.

Love,

Kathy

Jesus saw Nathanael

Dear Diary,

It was 61 degrees this morning, cool enough that Sister Mary Claire pulled her shawl a little closer on our walk to St. Mary’s. Mini trotted ahead with her proud little strut, like the show dog she thinks she is. Father LeRoy read the Gospel about Nathanael, and I thought it was strange that Jesus already knew him before they ever met.

On the walk home, I asked Sister how that could be. She said Jesus knows each of us that way, even before we are called. “He sees the good in us, just as He saw Nathanael under the fig tree,” she explained. I asked if that meant He saw me under the mulberry tree where I like to sit with Mini. Sister laughed and said yes, even there. She said Jesus loves when we are honest with Him, like Nathanael who had no duplicity.

The sun felt warm on our backs, and the gravel crunched underfoot. Sister told me that following Jesus means trusting that He will show us “greater things” in our lives, even little ones like keeping the cave snug for winter or helping Father LeRoy with church tasks. I liked that. It makes me feel like our small chores are part of something bigger.

When we reached our drive way, Mini gave one last shake of her ears and darted ahead, and I whispered to myself, “Rabbi, you are the Son of God.” It felt like the best way to finish the morning.

Evening Prayer:

Dear Jesus, thank You for seeing me and loving me as I am. Help me to be truthful in all things and to follow You with a heart that trusts. Show me the greater things You have planned. Amen.

Love,

Kathy

Sunday Sweep

 
Dear Diary,

Sister Mary Claire and I went to Mass last night, so today was spent at home, and we listened to Bishop Barron’s homily on the little Swiss radio. He reminded us of Pope Benedict’s words—that the Church does three things: it worships God, it spreads His word, and it serves the poor. Then he said the Gospel about the rich man and Lazarus is meant to bother us. Are you indifferent to the sufferings of the poor? What are you doing, concretely, to help them?

Sister said gently that helping doesn’t always mean something big. Sometimes it’s just sharing what you have, or stopping to listen when someone is lonely. She said even a cup of warm soup or a kind word can be love enough to keep someone from feeling forgotten.

The rest of the day we cleaned the cave. Clifford’s heavy wooden door made all the difference—it kept the autumn breeze and leaves outside, so we could sweep and dust without everything blowing back in. Sister polished the prayer corner until the little grotto sparkled, and I tidied the shelves. Mini darted in and out with her airplane ears, carrying sticks as if they were treasures, proud to be part of the work.

Sister said even cleaning the cave can be a prayer if we do it with thankful hearts. I thought of Lazarus—how cold the ground must have been for him—and I whispered to God that if anyone ever came by our cave in need, we would welcome them in.

Evening Prayer

Dear Lord,

Keep me from being blind to others who are hurting.

Teach me to share what I have, however small,

and to love with both my hands and my heart.

Bless Clifford’s door that keeps us warm,

and bless Mini, who keeps us smiling.

Amen.

Love,

Kathy

A Solid Door for Winter

Dear Diary

This morning at Holy Mass Father LeRoy read from the Gospel of Luke where Jesus told His disciples that the Son of Man would be handed over to men. They didn’t understand, and Sister Mary Claire explained on our walk home that sometimes God hides the meaning of things until we are ready to understand. She said the disciples’ hearts were not ready yet, but Jesus wanted them to remember His words so that when the time came, they would know it was all part of God’s plan.

As we walked, Mini trotted ahead, sniffing every dried leaf in the ditch, her little bottom wiggling as happy as ever. The air was chilly, and I could feel that fall is giving way to cold days. Sister said the seasons remind us of God’s timing too—there is a right season for everything, even for understanding.

When we reached home, Clifford, the handyman Sister found, was already busy at the cave. He is a tall man with broad shoulders and rough hands, the kind of hands that have fixed many things. His overalls were worn but neat, and he had a way of working steady without a lot of talk. Clifford built a solid wood door for the entrance, with strong hinges and a latch, so the wind won’t whistle in this winter.

He stood back and gave a nod when the door shut tight and sure. “That’ll hold up just fine for you girls,” he said with a quiet smile. Sister sighed and told me later, “No one else could have done it.” I thought that was true. The cave already feels snugger, as if John Hathaway himself would be glad for such good work.

I felt a peace, knowing the cave will be ready for winter nights, with the fire’s glow and the prayers we will offer there.

Evening Prayer

Dear Jesus, thank You for Your words, even when I don’t understand them right away. Help me to trust like the disciples, and wait for the time when You will make things clear. Bless Sister Mary Claire, Clifford for his sturdy door, and little Mini who keeps me smiling. Keep us warm and safe in Your love.

Amen.

Love,
Kathy