This morning was gray and still, the kind of November quiet that makes your heart slow down and listen. Robert’s pickup was warm as toast—he’s proud of that new heater—and Mini curled up on Sister Mary Claire’s lap for the ride to St. Mary’s. The cornfields looked bare and silvery under the cold sky, and I thought of how everything seems to sleep, waiting for spring.
At Mass, Father LeRoy’s homily was about the holy souls in purgatory—the faithful departed who are being cleansed in God’s mercy before they see Him face to face. He said love never ends at the grave, it only deepens. He spoke about St. Thomas Aquinas too, how he taught that the soul is the “form of the body”—the light God breathes into each of us that doesn’t die when our body does. Sister Mary Claire whispered afterward that it’s like the wick that keeps the flame alive. I liked that. It made me think how prayers are like little sparks sent upward to brighten the souls still waiting.
This afternoon the wind rattled the windows, so we stayed close to the stove. Sister brought out her old hymn and prayer book from Sister Doloretta, and together we prayed the Litany of Loreto for the holy souls. Mini lay at our feet, her chin resting on her paws, as if she understood every word. We prayed slowly, with pauses between the “pray for us,” so each name we remembered might drift heavenward like incense.
After supper, we listened to Bishop Barron’s radio sermon. He said All Souls Day is a feast of friendship—that we pray not out of duty, but out of love, because the Church is one family stretching from earth to Heaven. I thought that was the nicest way to say it.
Evening Prayer:
Dear Jesus,
hold close the souls who wait in Your mercy.
Let our prayers be gentle lights
guiding them safely home to You.
Love,
Kathy
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