Dear Diary
46 degrees
Robert’s pickup came rumbling down the lane early this morning, piled high with firewood for St. Mary’s. The air was frosty, and our breath puffed like smoke as Sister Mary Claire and I hurried out with our gloves on. Mini trotted right beside us, wagging her little bottom, thinking it was quite the adventure. Robert tipped his hat and said with a grin, “We’ll have the church stove fed for a week!” What a guy!
When we got to the church, the chill inside felt sharper than outdoors. Without wasting a minute, Sister and I pitched in full force, unloading wood from the back of the pickup and stacking it by the sacristy wall. Robert kept saying, “You girls sure work like champs!” I carried the smaller pieces, and Sister took the heavier ones, her cheeks pink from the cold. Mini guarded the tailgate like she was the foreman. Before long, we had the pile neatly stacked and ready for Father LeRoy to use through the week.
When Mass began, the stove already had a good fire going. The warmth spread through the plaster walls, and the smell of oak filled the church. Father LeRoy spoke about the Gospel of the day — the Pharisee and the tax collector. He said it wasn’t the proud one who pleased God, but the humble man who beat his breast and asked for mercy. Sister whispered softly, “It’s the heart that bends low that God lifts high.”
On the ride home, the pickup was empty but our hearts were full. Robert said the wood would make “holy heat,” and Sister laughed. Mini curled up on my lap, tuckered out from all her supervising.
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