Dear Diary
This morning I read a poem Sister Mary Claire tucked into my All for Jesus book. It was about a time long ago, when men’s hearts were burning brighter for Heaven than maybe they do now. It made me feel like crying in the nicest way, like how I sometimes do when I think about Jesus in the Tabernacle waiting for me.
The poem told the story of St. Dominic—how the earth had grown so dark with sin, and he was praying in his lonely cell. But in the silence of night, Our Lady came to him! She was holding Baby Jesus, and She smiled at Dominic. She didn’t give him a sword or an army—but something better. She gave him the Rosary.
She said it was the weapon that would scatter evil, but it wasn’t made of metal or fire—it was made of prayers. Just prayers, and love.
That part made my heart feel like a little bell ringing. I looked over at my own Rosary lying beside the grotto rock and picked it up with new hands. Like it was made of silver and fire and angel light all at once. I said just one decade, slow and soft, and asked Our Lady to help me love her Rosary more.
Sometimes I wish I could have lived in those olden days when miracles happened in cells and glens and chapels. But maybe Sister is right—Our Lady is still visiting, still giving the same Rosary to anyone who will carry it like a sword for Heaven.
Even me.
Goodnight, dear diary.
Love, Kathy
Dear Blessed Mother,
I want to be like St. Dominic, brave in prayer.
Let your Rosary be my sword,
and help me pray it with my whole heart.
Please watch over Sister Mary Claire, and Mini too,
and everyone who forgets to pray.
Amen.
This morning I read a poem Sister Mary Claire tucked into my All for Jesus book. It was about a time long ago, when men’s hearts were burning brighter for Heaven than maybe they do now. It made me feel like crying in the nicest way, like how I sometimes do when I think about Jesus in the Tabernacle waiting for me.
The poem told the story of St. Dominic—how the earth had grown so dark with sin, and he was praying in his lonely cell. But in the silence of night, Our Lady came to him! She was holding Baby Jesus, and She smiled at Dominic. She didn’t give him a sword or an army—but something better. She gave him the Rosary.
She said it was the weapon that would scatter evil, but it wasn’t made of metal or fire—it was made of prayers. Just prayers, and love.
That part made my heart feel like a little bell ringing. I looked over at my own Rosary lying beside the grotto rock and picked it up with new hands. Like it was made of silver and fire and angel light all at once. I said just one decade, slow and soft, and asked Our Lady to help me love her Rosary more.
Sometimes I wish I could have lived in those olden days when miracles happened in cells and glens and chapels. But maybe Sister is right—Our Lady is still visiting, still giving the same Rosary to anyone who will carry it like a sword for Heaven.
Even me.
Goodnight, dear diary.
Love, Kathy
Evening Prayer
Dear Blessed Mother,
I want to be like St. Dominic, brave in prayer.
Let your Rosary be my sword,
and help me pray it with my whole heart.
Please watch over Sister Mary Claire, and Mini too,
and everyone who forgets to pray.
Amen.
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