Dear Diary,
The sky is pink and lavender tonight, with streaks of orange brushing the tops of the trees. The crickets are starting their chorus, and Mini is stretched out at the end of the bed, paws twitching in her sleep like she’s chasing something in a dream. It’s one of those quiet evenings that makes you think back on the whole day with a thankful heart.
We went to early Mass this morning, and Robert offered to drive us home afterward. Sister Mary Claire invited him to stay for breakfast, and he said yes with a smile. It felt special—like the kind of morning that starts off wrapped in grace.
She made scrambled eggs and toast, and while we ate, she asked if we could talk about the Gospel. Robert looked surprised at first but happy, too. So we listened as Sister Mary Claire read it aloud:
“A sower went out to sow…”
I pictured Jesus sitting in a little boat just off the shore, His voice carrying over the water to the big crowd gathered to hear Him. The part about the seeds really stayed with me. Some landed on the path, some on rocky ground, some among thorns—but only the seeds that fell on rich soil grew strong and bore fruit.
Robert said he sometimes feels like his heart is the rocky kind—ready at first but then full of distractions. I told him I understood. I do, because I’ve felt that way too. Sister Mary Claire said the important thing is to let God keep working the soil of our hearts, even if it takes time. She said grace is like rain—it softens us little by little.
All afternoon I kept thinking about what kind of soil I am. I want to be the kind that listens and grows and shares something good. Maybe not a hundredfold yet, but something.
Evening Prayer:
Dear Jesus, thank You for Your Word today and for helping me listen. Please clear away the stones and thorns in my heart, and make me good soil. Let something grow in me that brings You joy. Bless Sister Mary Claire, and Robert, and little Mini too. May we all hear You clearly and follow You closely.
Love,
Kathy
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