HE STAYED
Dear Diary
This morning Robert picked us up early for Mass at St. Mary’s, and Mini was waiting at the door with her ears perked and her little bottom wiggling. She always knows when it’s Church day. The road was quiet as we rode along, and Sister Mary Claire pulled out a meditation she’d saved for today—the last Monday in June.
She read it softly, but the words stayed loud in my heart:
“Knowing that the hour was come when He would go to the Father, Jesus would not leave us… but found a means to remain with us in the adorable Sacrament of the Altar, to the end of time.”
Jesus stayed. Not just as a memory or a story, but really—truly—in the tabernacle at St. Mary’s. He’s there right now. Thinking of us. Waiting.
After Communion, I tried to kneel extra still, just to be near Him. I whispered: Jesus, I know You’re here. I want to stay too. When we got back in the truck, Sister showed Robert and me an old photo someone had sent her. It was from Quebec, Canada. There were people gathered outside a church, all kneeling down on the ground. No ceremony—just quiet, plain people kneeling because they knew Jesus was inside.
This morning Robert picked us up early for Mass at St. Mary’s, and Mini was waiting at the door with her ears perked and her little bottom wiggling. She always knows when it’s Church day. The road was quiet as we rode along, and Sister Mary Claire pulled out a meditation she’d saved for today—the last Monday in June.
She read it softly, but the words stayed loud in my heart:
“Knowing that the hour was come when He would go to the Father, Jesus would not leave us… but found a means to remain with us in the adorable Sacrament of the Altar, to the end of time.”
Jesus stayed. Not just as a memory or a story, but really—truly—in the tabernacle at St. Mary’s. He’s there right now. Thinking of us. Waiting.
After Communion, I tried to kneel extra still, just to be near Him. I whispered: Jesus, I know You’re here. I want to stay too. When we got back in the truck, Sister showed Robert and me an old photo someone had sent her. It was from Quebec, Canada. There were people gathered outside a church, all kneeling down on the ground. No ceremony—just quiet, plain people kneeling because they knew Jesus was inside.
There is a glorious legend
Of the times now passed away,
Of the times when faith was brighter
Than it is in this our day—
That part always gives me goosebumps.
Sometimes I wonder if I was born too late. I think I would’ve knelt with them. Maybe I still can. Not in Quebec, and not out in the field—but right here in this day, in this Church, in this heart. That’s what Sister said too: “Jesus didn’t stay just for those old times. He stayed for ours.”
So tomorrow I’ll try to go inside St. Mary’s for just a minute—even if the candles aren’t lit and the pews are empty. I’ll kneel, and I’ll tell Him what the meditation reminded me: You give all You have—Yourself, Your Sacred Humanity, Your Divinity, Your infinite love. I want to give You back a little love too.
Dear Jesus,
Thank You for staying. Even when the world forgets, don’t let me forget. Let my little heart be Your kneeler.
Love,
Kathy
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