July 2, 1956
Dear Diary,
This morning I read the meditation from The Love of the Sacred Heart of Jesus for Men, and something inside me sort of stopped and settled in when I got to the part about our Blessed Mother. It said that Jesus gave His very own Heart to Mary, and now she’s full of His tenderness, always watching over us, always praying. The writer even said, “He desires us to see Mary, that we may understand better His own Heart.”
I liked that part especially. It made me think that when I go to the grotto and kneel by Our Lady’s statue, it’s not pretend. She really does see me. And maybe, in her motherly way, she leans close and listens to what I whisper in my heart—even the things I don’t know how to say.
So Mini and I packed a little tin of oatmeal cookies and walked to the cave. The path was soft and familiar under our feet, and the birds sang less and less as we got deeper under the trees. We stopped first at Shaggycoat’s lodge, where he came padding out with his wet nose and sleepy eyes. I gave him a piece of cookie, and Mini barked once as if to say, “Don’t forget me!” I scratched Shaggycoat behind the ears and told him he’s still part of our little crew, even if he’s more mud than manners sometimes.
Then we slipped into the sanctuary cave, and I lit a small candle at the grotto. The statue of Our Lady looked especially soft in the candlelight, and I thought she looked like Sister Mary Claire a little bit—or maybe Sister looks like her. I told Mary everything: about my worries for Vreni’s sick cousin, how I want to be good, and how I hope Jesus knows I love Him even when I’m distracted. I asked her to carry it all to His Sacred Heart.
It was nearly dark by the time I realized how long we’d stayed. The shadows outside had grown long and blue, and even Mini seemed to know it was time to go. She led the way out with her ears perked, and I didn’t say a word until we reached the edge of the cornfield. I just kept thinking how lucky I was to have a cave, a grotto, a corgi, and a Mother who watches from Heaven.
I know Sister Mary Claire will ask where we’ve been, and I’ll just say, “With Our Lady,” and she’ll understand exactly.
Evening Prayer:
O Sacred Heart of Jesus, so full of love and mercy,
I give You my own small heart tonight.
And dear Blessed Mother, who watches from Heaven,
thank You for your prayers and protection.
Keep us all close to your Son,
and help us to love Him more each day.
Love,
Kathy
This morning I read the meditation from The Love of the Sacred Heart of Jesus for Men, and something inside me sort of stopped and settled in when I got to the part about our Blessed Mother. It said that Jesus gave His very own Heart to Mary, and now she’s full of His tenderness, always watching over us, always praying. The writer even said, “He desires us to see Mary, that we may understand better His own Heart.”
I liked that part especially. It made me think that when I go to the grotto and kneel by Our Lady’s statue, it’s not pretend. She really does see me. And maybe, in her motherly way, she leans close and listens to what I whisper in my heart—even the things I don’t know how to say.
So Mini and I packed a little tin of oatmeal cookies and walked to the cave. The path was soft and familiar under our feet, and the birds sang less and less as we got deeper under the trees. We stopped first at Shaggycoat’s lodge, where he came padding out with his wet nose and sleepy eyes. I gave him a piece of cookie, and Mini barked once as if to say, “Don’t forget me!” I scratched Shaggycoat behind the ears and told him he’s still part of our little crew, even if he’s more mud than manners sometimes.
Then we slipped into the sanctuary cave, and I lit a small candle at the grotto. The statue of Our Lady looked especially soft in the candlelight, and I thought she looked like Sister Mary Claire a little bit—or maybe Sister looks like her. I told Mary everything: about my worries for Vreni’s sick cousin, how I want to be good, and how I hope Jesus knows I love Him even when I’m distracted. I asked her to carry it all to His Sacred Heart.
It was nearly dark by the time I realized how long we’d stayed. The shadows outside had grown long and blue, and even Mini seemed to know it was time to go. She led the way out with her ears perked, and I didn’t say a word until we reached the edge of the cornfield. I just kept thinking how lucky I was to have a cave, a grotto, a corgi, and a Mother who watches from Heaven.
I know Sister Mary Claire will ask where we’ve been, and I’ll just say, “With Our Lady,” and she’ll understand exactly.
Evening Prayer:
O Sacred Heart of Jesus, so full of love and mercy,
I give You my own small heart tonight.
And dear Blessed Mother, who watches from Heaven,
thank You for your prayers and protection.
Keep us all close to your Son,
and help us to love Him more each day.
Love,
Kathy
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