The River from the Sanctuary

Dear Diary

It was 22 degrees this morning, and six inches of snow blanketed the countryside like a white comforter, with more still falling thick and steady. The world looked so still that even the trees seemed to be holding their breath. Robert’s pickup pulled up at the end of the walk, already warm inside from the mile drive down from his farm. The heater was humming, and a soft fog clung to the edges of the windows.

Mini made a brave leap into the cab but needed a gentle push from me when her short legs sank into the snow. Sister laughed softly, brushing the heavy flakes from her veil, and Robert said, “We’ll have this place thawed in no time.” Mini curled right between us, her fur still damp and snow-speckled, her eyes half closed from the cozy heat.

The road to St. Mary’s was clean but narrow, with snow still swirling in the wind. Every field we passed lay quiet under the deep white, the fence posts standing like little sentinels. Smoke rose straight up from a few farm chimneys, and I thought how nice it was to live where people still watched out for one another.

Inside St. Mary’s, the stove was snapping and crackling, and the smell of melting snow on our boots filled the air. Father LeRoy read from the Prophet Ezekiel about the river flowing from the temple—how it made the salt waters fresh and brought life wherever it went.

In his homily, Father said that God’s grace is like that river—always flowing, even when we can’t see it, turning every frozen heart into something alive again. “Under every snow-covered field,” he said, “the promise of spring is waiting.” I thought of that as I watched the sunlight try to break through the swirling flakes outside the stained-glass windows, coloring the snow in soft shades of rose and blue.

On the way home, the snow sparkled so bright we had to squint. Robert kept one hand steady on the wheel, and Sister hummed a hymn softly under her breath. Mini was asleep on my lap, snoring just a little. Everything felt peaceful and safe, as though that holy river had reached right into our hearts.

Evening Prayer:

Dear Jesus, let Your grace flow through my soul like the river from Your temple.

Melt what is cold in me, and help me bring warmth and kindness to others.

Bless Sister, Robert, and our dear little Mini tonight.

Amen.

Love, Kathy