Dear Diary,
This morning’s walk to St. Mary’s felt like a soft whisper—the sky a pale blue and the breeze warm against my cheeks. Sister Mary Claire walked quietly beside me, and Mini stayed just ahead, her ears standing tall and alert, ready to greet any new friend who might appear. She didn’t find one, but her tail-less little wiggle said she was hopeful.
At Holy Mass, Father LeRoy read the Gospel about the mustard seed and the yeast. Sister called them the “quiet parables.” She said Jesus liked to speak in parables so the people would listen deeply—not just with their ears but with their hearts.
Jesus said the Kingdom of Heaven is like a mustard seed that grows into a great tree where birds come and rest. To be honest, I’m not sure I’ve ever seen a mustard tree before—but I do know what our old mulberry tree looks like near the chicken run. It’s tall and wide with big branches and always seems to have birds fluttering through it. So when I pictured the Gospel, I used my own tree instead. Maybe Jesus doesn’t mind if we imagine with what we know best.
And the yeast—it was already in the dough, Sister said. Hidden and working. I thought about all the little things I do each day that no one notices: feeding the chickens before breakfast, saying my morning prayers without skipping any lines, or just being near someone who’s feeling quiet. It might not seem like anything special, but maybe, just maybe, love is already rising in those moments.
After lunch, I went out with my sketchpad and sat near the coop. The chickens were bustling about as usual, pecking and clucking, while the mulberry leaves danced a little in the wind. I tried to sketch it all—just a few lines really. The tree, the coop, a few birds in the branches, and the chickens down below. I wrote “Mustard Seeds and Mulberry trees” at the top. It made me smile.
Dear Jesus,
Let my little acts of love—
quiet and hidden—
grow into something You can use,
like branches to rest in,
or dough that feeds someone’s heart.
Love,
Kathy 🐓🌳
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