The Last Chapter Begins

 

Dear Diary,

We met again today under the apple tree beside St. Mary’s, and somehow everything seemed a little quieter than usual.

The sun was warm, the leaves over us rustled when the breeze came through, and our chairs were all in their familiar places. Father LeRoy was there, Sister Mary Claire and Robert too, and Mini settled down close beside me.

But I think all of us were thinking the same thing.

Today we began the first part of the last chapter of Our Lady of Lourdes.

I did not like the sound of those words very much.

We have spent so many wonderful days together reading this book—under the apple tree, beside Indian Creek, in the clubhouse when it rained, and even riding along in Father’s car—that it hardly seems possible that the story can really be coming to an end.

Mini must have noticed that something was different too. Usually she is watching for squirrels or wondering whether anyone has dropped something good to eat, but today she just lay beside my chair with her chin on her paws as if she were melancholy with the rest of us.

Father looked around at everybody and smiled.

“Well, Kathy,” he said, “we had better not mourn the end before we have finished the story. Let us hear what happened at Lourdes.”

So I opened my notebook and read my summary.

Years had passed since Bernadette first knelt before the rough Grotto of Massabielle. The lonely place she had known had changed almost beyond recognition.

A great church was rising above the rocks where the Blessed Virgin had appeared. The steep hillside had been covered with grass, shrubs, flowers and winding paths. Roses, violets and daisies grew where once there had been only rough earth and stone.

The Grotto itself had become a sanctuary. An iron railing protected it, a golden lamp hung above, and candles burned there day and night.

The miraculous spring still flowed.

Its water now filled great basins, and a place had been prepared where the sick could bathe. Roads had been built so pilgrims could reach the Grotto more easily. Even the stream and part of the river had been moved so that the growing crowds could come safely to Massabielle.

And the most wonderful thing was that these enormous works were being paid for largely by the little offerings of ordinary people.

A copper coin here.

A gift of thanksgiving there.

Offerings from people who had been healed, comforted, or brought closer to God.

The author said something I liked very much: God did not force anyone to give. He wanted gifts freely offered by people who loved Him.

When I finished, nobody spoke for a moment.

Then Sister Mary Claire said, “Think how it began. One poor girl kneeling in the mud before a place most people hardly noticed.”

“And now there is a church rising above it,” Robert said.

Father nodded.

“That is often how God works,” he said. “Something may begin very quietly. So quietly that the world thinks it is nothing. But if it truly belongs to God, we should not be surprised at what may grow from it.”

I looked up through the branches of our apple tree.

That made me think about our Reading Club.

We certainly had not built a basilica.

We had only gathered beneath a tree with some old books, a few chairs, plenty of questions, and usually something good to eat.

But I wondered if little things could grow too.

Maybe Robert would remember these meetings when he was old.

Maybe I would.

Maybe someday I would hear the name Lourdes and remember Father sitting beneath this apple tree, Sister explaining something I could not understand, Robert reading ahead when he was not supposed to, and Mini waiting patiently for her share of the refreshments.

Then Robert announced that there was one more matter requiring our immediate attention.

From his cooler he produced great vanilla ice-cream cones.

“A nickel apiece,” he said proudly.

They were enormous for a nickel.

Mine was already beginning to melt down one side before I had taken three bites.

Mini suddenly recovered from her melancholy.

Robert had remembered her too and brought out a little dish of plain vanilla ice cream. She cleaned it so carefully that Father said perhaps Mini had decided the last chapter was not entirely bad after all.

We laughed, and that helped.

I am still a little sad tonight, Diary.

The book is nearly finished.

And perhaps these wonderful summer meetings really are drawing toward their end.

But today’s chapter reminded me that an ending does not always mean something disappears.

Bernadette’s days at the Grotto ended long ago, but what began there kept growing.

Maybe that is the important thing.

Some things stay with us after the chairs are folded, the books are closed, and the last nickel ice-cream cone is gone.

And perhaps that is how a little Reading Club under an Iowa apple tree can last forever too.

Good night, dear Diary.

Love, Kathy 

 

The Faith of a Child

Dear Diary,

We met under the apple tree again today for our Reading Club. The morning had that nice late-summer feeling to it, with the leaves stirring every once in a while and little patches of sunlight moving around on our books.

Father LeRoy had told us he might be a little late, so Sister Mary Claire said we should go ahead without him. Robert carried the chairs out, Mini found her usual place where she could keep an eye on everybody, and I began my chapter summary.

Today’s chapter was about a boy named Jules Lacassagne and his father, Roger.

Jules had been sick for two whole years. At first he could hardly swallow solid food, and later the doctors discovered that his throat had become so terribly narrowed that he could live only on liquids. He grew thin and pale, and even the finest doctors in Toulouse and Bordeaux could not cure him.

But Jules had read about Lourdes.

He became completely certain that the Blessed Virgin could help him. He told his mother, “Send me to Lourdes, and you will see I shall be cured.”

His father did not really believe in miracles, but he loved his son so much that he was willing to try anything. So in February they traveled to Lourdes.

Jules prayed in the chapel and at the Grotto. A priest consecrated him to the Blessed Virgin, and afterward Jules washed himself with the spring water and drank some of it.

Then his father handed him a biscuit.

After two years of being unable to eat solid food, Jules swallowed it.

“Papa! I am swallowing the biscuit. I am able to eat. I was sure of it, for I had faith.”

He ate another, and another.

His father hurried off to send one word by telegram to Jules’s mother:

“Cured.”

And Jules remained well.

When I finished reading, nobody said anything for a little while.

Then Robert said, “The boy seemed to have more faith than everybody else put together.”

Sister Mary Claire smiled. “Sometimes children do.”

That started quite a lively discussion.

Robert wondered why Jules could believe so completely when his father could hardly believe at all. Sister said perhaps Jules had received the grace to trust simply, without needing to understand everything first.

I said I thought the most beautiful part was that Jules had carried the thought of Lourdes quietly in his heart for eight months. Nobody encouraged him very much, but he never forgot.

Sister nodded.

“Faith can grow very quietly,” she said. “Sometimes the deepest things are happening when nobody else notices.”

Just then we heard a car door shut beside the church.

“There’s Father,” Robert said.

Father came around the corner carrying a big cardboard tray and looking rather pleased with himself.

“I hope,” he announced, “that the theological discussion has not advanced beyond the point where refreshments may still be admitted.”

Dairy Queen!

He had brought Oreo Cookie Blizzards for everybody.

Sister laughed and said that perhaps this was the first recorded Reading Club discussion in which St. Vitus’ dance, Lourdes, miracles, the Blessed Virgin, and Oreo cookies had all appeared in the same hour.

Mini received no Oreo Blizzard, of course. Father had remembered her too. Hers was a little dish of plain vanilla ice cream with a vanilla wafer stuck in the top.

Mini ate the wafer first.

Robert said that proved she understood the proper order of things.

When our Blizzards were nearly gone, Father returned to the chapter.

He said that perhaps the greatest miracle in the story was not only what happened to Jules.

“Notice what happened to the father,” he said.

Jules received back his health, but his father received something too. A man who had trusted only what he could see and explain suddenly found himself standing before something he could not explain away.

Sister said that was why the author wrote that the Blessed Virgin had given Jules temporal life, but had helped lead his father toward the life that lasts forever.

I liked that very much.

Maybe sometimes God answers one person’s prayer and, hidden inside the answer, there is another gift meant for somebody else.

The afternoon breeze began rustling the apple leaves above us, and one apple dropped into the grass with a little thump.

Father stood and gave us his blessing.

On the walk home I kept thinking about Jules saying, “I was sure of it, for I had faith.”

I don’t think faith always means being sure that God will give us exactly what we ask for.

Maybe it means being sure that, whatever happens, we can still put ourselves into His hands.

And perhaps that is the kind of faith I would like to have.

Dear Blessed Mother, help me to trust Jesus simply and lovingly, especially when I cannot see what He is doing. Help me remember that no prayer offered with love is ever forgotten.

Amen.

The Water from Lourdes

Dear Diary,

Today our Reading Club had quite an adventure.

Father LeRoy told us this morning that he would not be able to come to our regular meeting because some church business had come up and he had to drive to Sioux City right away. We were all a little disappointed until Father looked at us and said, “Why don’t you all come along? You can have your meeting on the way, and afterward I’ll treat everybody at the Dairy Queen on Nebraska Street.”

That changed things in a hurry!

So Sister Mary Claire, Robert, Mini, and I piled into Father’s car, and off we went to Sioux City. Mini settled herself comfortably as though she had been invited personally.

Once we were well on our way, Father said it was time for the Reading Club meeting, so I took out my notes and gave today’s chapter summary.

The story was about a man whose eyesight had always been wonderfully strong. Then, in 1862, his eyes suddenly became so weak that he could scarcely read even a few lines. Doctors tried many different treatments, but nothing really helped, and before long he began to fear that his good eyesight was gone forever.

Then something very strange happened. One of his closest friends, who was a Protestant, visited Lourdes and heard about the remarkable cures connected with the water from the Grotto. He wrote and urged his Catholic friend to try it.

The man resisted—not because he thought God could not cure him, but almost for the opposite reason. Deep down he feared that if God really did perform a miracle for him, his whole life would have to change. He knew that such a gift would call him to become better and more faithful.

At last his friends persuaded him to write to the Curé of Lourdes, and a bottle of water from the Grotto was sent to him.

When it arrived, he prayed earnestly to God and Our Blessed Mother and washed his eyes and forehead with the Lourdes water.

Almost immediately, he knew that something had happened.

He was cured.

Only minutes before he could scarcely read a few lines. Now he picked up the little book about Lourdes and read more than one hundred pages without any weariness at all. Seven years later, when he wrote his account, his eyesight was still perfectly strong.

That gave us plenty to talk about.

Robert was the first to notice something unusual.

“Wait a minute,” he said. “He’s telling this whole story as ‘I.’ Do you suppose this is the author himself?”

That made all of us think.

Sister Mary Claire said it certainly sounded that way. The man was not simply repeating something he had heard about another person. He was describing his own fear, his own prayers, and exactly what happened when the Lourdes water arrived.

Father, keeping his eyes on the road, said, “I think Robert may have found something important. Perhaps Monsieur Lasserre has been telling us about his own cure without stopping to announce it.”

That made the chapter seem completely different to me. All this time the author had been telling us about the miracles of Lourdes, and now it seemed possible that Lourdes had touched his own life too.

Sister Mary Claire said the part that touched her most was that he had actually been frightened of receiving such a great grace because he knew it would ask something of him in return.

Father said, “Sometimes we ask God for something wonderful, but we ought also to ask ourselves what we will do with the gift if He gives it to us.”

By then Sioux City was getting close, and after Father’s church business was finished, he kept his promise and took us to the Dairy Queen on Nebraska Street—the same one we had visited before.

Father said we could have whatever we wanted.

That may have been the second miracle of the day.

There were cones, sundaes, shakes, and plenty of chocolate syrup involved. Mini received her own little dish of plain vanilla and considered the entire trip an excellent Reading Club meeting.

On the ride home we talked some more about Lourdes and especially about whether we had just read the author’s own miracle. Somehow that made the whole book feel more personal.

When we reached St. Mary’s, Father stopped the car before anyone climbed out.

He made the Sign of the Cross over us and gave us his blessing.

It seemed like the perfect ending to a Reading Club meeting that had begun on the road, traveled all the way to Sioux City, stopped for ice cream, and brought us very close indeed to the man who had written the story of Lourdes.

Good night, Diary.

Kathy

 

Stone by Stone

Dear Diary,

Today our Reading Club was back in its usual place under the apple tree beside St. Mary’s.

Sister Mary Claire brought vanilla ice cream and a can of Hershey’s chocolate syrup. She poured the chocolate over our dishes in great dark ribbons, and it was about as good as anything could be on a warm August day.

Mini received her own little dish of plain vanilla.

She had no complaints whatsoever.

When everyone was settled, Father asked me to read the short chapter summary.

I told the club that Bishop Laurence, acting for the Church, purchased the Grotto, the surrounding land, and the Rocks of Massabielle from the town of Lourdes. Mayor Lacadé helped arrange the sale, and M. Rouland approved both the purchase and the building of a church there in memory of the Apparitions.

Soon the great sanctuary began rising stone by stone above the Grotto.

But while the church was being built, devotion to Our Lady of Lourdes was spreading far beyond Lourdes itself. People in cities, villages, and lonely country places called upon her, and many reported remarkable favors and cures.

The author said that before finishing his story, he wanted to tell us about two more extraordinary events. One of them had happened to him personally and had remained in his memory for many years.

Robert said, “It must have been something pretty important if he saved it for almost the very end.”

Father nodded. “Sometimes the things closest to us are the hardest to write about.”

Sister Mary Claire said she liked the thought of the church rising one stone at a time while devotion to Our Lady was spreading everywhere at the same time.

I looked up through the apple leaves and thought about how slowly we had been reading this book, one chapter at a time, all summer long.

Then Father said, “We are getting very close to the end of our story.”

Nobody said anything for a moment.

I think we had all grown rather fond of Bernadette, the Grotto, the spring, and even all those officials who seemed to spend so much time arguing about everything.

Father smiled and added, “So we had better begin thinking about what book the Reading Club will take up next.”

Robert immediately said he had several ideas.

Of course he did.

Mini had finished her ice cream by then and was licking the dish so carefully that I think she would have voted to continue any book at all, provided Sister kept serving refreshments.

When it was time to leave, Father asked us to bow our heads.

He thanked God for Our Lady of Lourdes, for Bernadette’s faithfulness, and for all the good that had come from the little Grotto at Massabielle. Then he asked God to guide our Reading Club as we came to the end of one story and prepared to begin another.

Father gave us his blessing.

The apple leaves rustled overhead, Mini stretched out in the grass, and I looked around at everyone sitting there together.

I think I am going to be a little sorry when this book is finished.

Kathy

Eighteen Times

Dear Diary — August 21, 1957

After church this morning, Father said that instead of meeting under our usual apple tree, we should move the picnic table to the left side of St. Mary’s. From there we had a wonderful view of the sunflower field on the other side of the church.

The flowers were so bright and beautiful that I told Sister Mary Claire they looked a little like something we might see in Heaven.

Then we discovered that nobody had brought anything to eat.

Robert jumped into his pickup and drove into Littlemore. It seemed as though he was back in two minutes with Krispy Kreme doughnuts and a quart of cold milk.

Father laughed and said, “Providence sometimes works through fast pickup trucks.”

Mini sat under the table and watched everyone eat. Robert finally gave her a little dish of milk, which pleased her very much.

Then Father asked me to read today’s chapter summary.

I explained that after four years of careful investigation, Bishop Laurence of Tarbes finally gave his judgment about Lourdes. Bernadette had been questioned many times, but her story never changed. She remained simple, truthful, and asked for nothing for herself.

The Bishop also considered the conversions, renewed faith, and remarkable cures connected with the Grotto. Doctors had examined many of them, and the spring water itself had no natural healing properties.

At last Bishop Laurence declared that the Blessed Virgin Mary truly appeared to Bernadette eighteen times beginning February 11, 1858. He approved devotion to Our Lady of Lourdes and announced that a sanctuary should be built near the Grotto.

Robert said, “So after all the arguments and investigations, the Bishop finally said it was true.”

Father nodded. “Yes, but only after great care. The Church wanted to be certain.”

Sister Mary Claire said that Bernadette’s humility was one of the loveliest parts of the whole story.

I looked toward the sunflowers and said, “God seems to like choosing little people.”

Father smiled. “He certainly does.”

Just then Mini rested her chin on my shoe, and Robert said, “Here is another little person.”

We all laughed.

When it was time to leave, I said our prayer.

Dear Blessed Mother,

thank you for appearing to Bernadette
and giving us Our Lady of Lourdes.

Help us to be truthful and humble like Bernadette,
and to keep our eyes turned toward Jesus
just as these sunflowers turn toward the sun.

Please watch over Father LeRoy, Sister Mary Claire, Robert, Mini,
and all of us in our Reading Club.

And someday, dear Mother,
please help us all reach Heaven together.

Amen.

Father gave us his blessing, and I looked once more across the bright field of sunflowers.

For just a moment, Diary, it really did look a little like Heaven.

Kathy

Pilot Rock and the Test of Time

Dear Diary,

Father LeRoy kept his word today!

After Mass he called, “Everyone into the car,” and there sat his newest treasure—not a new car at all, but a beautifully kept 1936 Hudson.

Robert rode up front with Father while Sister Mary Claire, Mini, and I settled into the back. Soon we were rolling through the Iowa countryside with the windows open.

Father finally handed me a sign stating our destination.

Pilot Rock!

It stood on the farm of an old friend of his. Father seemed to know half the countryside through people he had met at Immaculate Conception Catholic Church.

When we arrived, I could hardly believe the size of the rock. We spread our blanket on its shady side where the great stone helped keep us cool.

Mini carefully inspected everything before settling beside me.

Sister explained that Pilot Rock was a glacial erratic, carried here by ancient ice and left behind when the glacier melted.

“So the glacier disappeared, but the rock stayed,” I said.

Father smiled. “That fits Kathy’s chapter very well.”

So I opened my notebook and began.

My Chapter Summary

Hundreds of cures had been reported at Lourdes, but the Church did not simply call them all miracles.

The Episcopal Commission carefully investigated thirty cases. They rejected cures that happened gradually, those involving medical treatment, and even remarkable spiritual conversions because such things could not be proved publicly.

The physical cures were divided into three groups. Some could have natural explanations. Others seemed probably supernatural, but the Commissioners remained cautious.

Only fifteen cures were finally judged unmistakably miraculous.

The doctors noticed that many completely different illnesses had been suddenly cured after using the same simple water from the Grotto. Yet scientific examination showed that the water itself had no special medicinal properties.

Bishop Laurence became convinced, but even then he waited.

Three years.

Then the cures were examined again. The people remained well, the witnesses stood by their testimony, and the facts had survived the test of time.

Only then was the Bishop ready to give his solemn judgment.

I closed my notebook and looked up at Pilot Rock.

“I think I understand,” I said. “This rock has survived rain, snow, wind, and years and years of time.”

“And Bishop Laurence wanted the truth to survive time too,” Sister said.

Father nodded. “He was not slow because he lacked faith. He was careful because the truth mattered.”

Then Sister announced lunch.

She brought out a beautiful peach pie, a jar of heavy cream, and cold milk.

The cream ran over the peaches and crust, and it was wonderful.

I told Father that peach pie was one thing I thought could be approved without a three-year investigation.

He laughed.

“I would still advise caution, Kathy.”

Mini sat beside me wearing her most hopeful expression until she received a little treat of her own.

Before leaving, Father asked us to bow our heads.

I prayed:

Dear Blessed Mother,
 help me to love the truth 
and to be patient when answers take time.
Keep my faith strong
and lead me always closer to Jesus.
 Amen.

Father gave us his blessing, and we packed everything back into the old Nash.

Mini jumped in first.

As we drove away, I looked back at Pilot Rock.

The glacier was gone.

The rock remained.

Three years had passed.

The cures remained.

Maybe that was the lesson of today.

Truth does not have to fear the test of time.

Good night, Dear Diary.

Love, Kathy 

Today's Video

  

The Morning When Marie Could See

Dear Diary,

For some reason, I felt like dressing up today, so I put on my Robin Hood outfit, complete with my hat and feather. Sister Mary Claire smiled when she saw me and said I looked as though I ought to be guarding Sherwood Forest instead of attending the Reading Club.

Then Father LeRoy, Sister Mary Claire, Robert, Mini, and I headed down to Indian Creek for our meeting.

We met again beside that enormous glacial rock on the bank, the one that has been sitting there longer than any of us can imagine. I climbed up on top with my book and notes while everyone settled themselves below.

Standing there in my Robin Hood clothes, with the wind tugging at my feather and Indian Creek flowing behind me, I felt rather grand—almost as though the big old glacial rock were my castle.

Then I opened my book and began my chapter summary.

The story today was about a girl named Marie Moreau.

Long before the happenings at Lourdes, Marie’s mother had been very ill when Marie was born. Her father prayed earnestly to the Blessed Virgin and afterwards insisted that his little daughter be named Marie in Mary’s honor. He even had her dressed in white for her first three years because white was Our Lady’s color.

Years later, when Marie was sixteen and attending school at the Convent of the Sacred Heart in Bordeaux, something terrible happened to her eyes. The doctors said one eye was already lost and the other was failing badly. Medicines, treatments, and sea bathing did nothing to help her, and her family feared that she would soon be completely blind.

Then Marie’s father happened to read about the cures taking place through the water from the Grotto at Lourdes.

His old confidence in Our Lady returned immediately.

“This is where we must knock,” he said.

The family began a novena and obtained some water from Lourdes. Marie herself did not have very much faith, and her mother was almost afraid to hope, but her father prayed with extraordinary confidence.

That night Marie soaked a bandage in the Lourdes water and placed it over her eyes before going to sleep.

The next morning she removed the bandage.

She could see.

Not dimly.

Not a little better.

She could see everything clearly.

Marie called for her sister Marthe and asked for a book because she wanted to make certain she could really read. She opened it and read perfectly.

Then her father and mother came rushing into the room.

“I can see! I can read! I am cured!”

The whole family knelt and thanked the Blessed Virgin.

Later the doctor who had treated Marie admitted that such a sudden and complete recovery was beyond anything medicine could explain. Marie went to Lourdes with her family to give thanks, and she wore blue and white in honor of Our Lady.

The part I liked especially came afterward.

Marie wanted her blue-and-white dress given to Bernadette.

Bernadette accepted it and wore it for years.

I stopped reading there for a moment.

“So they really were almost like sisters,” I said. “Both of them under the care of the Blessed Mother.”

Sister smiled.

“I think that is a lovely way to put it, Kathy.”

Just then Sister reached into her picnic basket and produced a dozen chocolate chip cookies.

That brought everyone’s attention back to Iowa very quickly.

She had brought enough so we could each have three cookies with cold milk.

Father looked at the cookies and said, “Now that is what I call proper preparation for theological discussion.”

Robert said he thought three cookies might also improve a person’s ability to understand miracles.

I told him that was probably not in the chapter.

Mini received a little treat of her own and watched every bite we took just in case somebody suddenly decided three cookies were too many.

Nobody did.

While we ate, the sky over Indian Creek began changing. The warm summer light disappeared, and dark clouds began piling up from the west. The cottonwood leaves turned their pale undersides toward the wind.

Then we heard thunder.

Not very close at first.

But close enough.

Father looked toward the sky and said, “I think Our Lady will forgive us for shortening today’s meeting.”

Before we packed up, Father gave us one more piece of news.

“Tomorrow,” he said, “the Reading Club is going on another excursion.”

“Where?” Robert asked.

Father smiled.

“I’m not telling.”

“Is there food?” I asked.

His smile became even bigger.

“I’m still not telling.”

Sister said she had never seen four people become so curious so quickly.

I think she was counting Mini.

Then another roll of thunder came across the creek, much louder than the first.

That settled everything.

We hurriedly packed the books and picnic things. Father gave us his blessing, and I said our little closing prayer:

“Dear Blessed Mother, thank you for watching over Marie so many years ago, and thank you for watching over us today. Help us to trust you even when we cannot see what God is doing. Please keep everyone safe in the storm—and thank you for our cookies. Amen.”

Father made the Sign of the Cross over us.

Then the wind began blowing in earnest.

Fortunately, we had three chocolate chip cookies apiece inside us.

New cookie energy.

Robert took off first, Sister gathered her skirts, Father carried the basket, and I scrambled down from the big rock in my Robin Hood outfit, holding onto my hat so the wind would not carry it all the way to Sioux City.

Mini raced alongside me as though she had been waiting all afternoon for exactly this opportunity.

Behind us Indian Creek was turning dark beneath the storm clouds.

And ahead of us was home.

And somewhere beyond tomorrow morning—

Father’s mysterious excursion.

I wonder where he is taking us.

The Traveler in Time

Saturday, August 15, 1957

Dear Diary,

Our Reading Club met along Indian Creek again today, and I think it may be one of my favorite places for us to meet.

Today is the Feast of the Assumption of Our Blessed Mother, so Father LeRoy reminded us before we began that this was a very special day for Mary. It seemed just right that our chapter today should also be about her help and about the gratitude people offered to her at Lourdes.

I sat on the enormous rock along the bank to read my chapter summary. Before I started, though, I asked Sister Mary Claire something I had been wondering about ever since our last meeting.

If a glacier nearly a mile high once covered this country, why didn’t it grind this great rock into little pieces?

Sister smiled and patted the rock beside me.

She said this rock was a traveler in time, just as all of us are. Thousands of years ago it became frozen inside a great glacier far to the north. When the glacier slowly moved south, the rock traveled along inside the ice almost like something packed safely in a suitcase. Then, when the glacier finally melted and could carry it no farther, it simply left the rock behind.

“So here it sits,” Sister said, “a glacial erratic—a very old visitor from Canada.”

I liked thinking about that. This rock had been sitting beside Indian Creek long before Father LeRoy, Robert, Sister, Mini, or I ever came along.

Then Father said perhaps our old rock had something to teach us about today’s chapter, too.

I read my summary.

The Bishop’s Commission carefully investigated the cures connected with Lourdes. They did not simply believe every story they heard. They visited people, questioned witnesses, and examined the facts.

One of the most remarkable cases was Madame Rizan, who had been terribly ill and partly paralyzed for more than twenty years. Her doctors believed she was dying. During her last night she asked for water from the Grotto at Lourdes.

The next morning her daughter brought some. Madame Rizan drank it and was washed with it.

Almost immediately she declared that she was cured.

Her strength returned. She got out of bed, dressed herself, knelt before a statue of the Blessed Virgin, and asked everyone to thank Our Lady with her.

Even years later she remained well.

One doctor readily admitted that something extraordinary had happened. Another doctor had refused to investigate the cure because he did not believe in miracles. The author told him that a scientist ought to examine facts first instead of refusing to look at them because they do not agree with what he already believes.

That gave us plenty to talk about.

Sister tapped the great rock beneath me and said, “Suppose nobody studied this rock because they had already decided a glacier could never have carried it here. They would miss the story written right in front of them.”

Father nodded.

“Truth isn’t afraid of being examined,” he said.

I looked down at that enormous old traveler beneath me and thought about Madame Rizan. One came quietly from Canada inside a glacier, and one wonderful morning in France brought a story that people would still be examining many years later.

Before we left, Sister opened the picnic basket.

Inside were chocolate chip cookies and a big jar of cold Jersey cow milk.

Robert said perhaps scientific investigation should always end with cookies.

Father said he wasn’t certain the Bishop’s Commission would agree, but he certainly did.

We ate beside Indian Creek while the water slipped past our old traveler in time.

Because it was the Feast of the Assumption, I kept thinking about Our Lady too. The old rock had traveled such a long way before coming to rest here, and I thought how all of us are travelers through time too, hoping one day to reach Heaven, where Mary already is.

I wonder how many stories are sitting quietly around us, waiting for someone to notice them.

Good night, Diary.

Kathy

When Litte Boy Dopped

 
I wasn’t born yet when Hiroshima happened—August 6, 1945—but it isn’t terribly far away in the way history can still feel close enough to touch. I didn’t serve in Vietnam either. My own “war background” comes from history books, documentaries, and old footage. Still, war found its way into my life: I lost two close friends in Vietnam, and I had two brothers who served there. So even if my knowledge is secondhand, the cost of war has never felt abstract.

And yet—out of everything I’ve read, watched, or listened to—this one video about Hiroshima has impacted me more than any book, movie, or story I’ve ever encountered.

It tells what happened that morning when a B-29 dropped an atomic bomb—“Little Boy”—over Hiroshima. In an instant, buildings were flattened for miles. Tens of thousands died immediately, and the suffering continued long after the blast. The scale is hard to hold in the mind. You almost can’t take it in without wanting to turn away.

But then the story narrows to one small place near the heart of the devastation: a rectory beside a church—Our Lady of the Assumption. Eight Jesuit missionaries were there. Close to the hypocenter. Close enough that it makes no sense what comes next.

They survived.

Four of the priests are known by name—Father Hugo Lassalle, Father Wilhelm Kleinsorge, Father Hubert Schiffer, and Father Hubert Cieslik. They were injured by shattered glass, but not crushed, not burned, not deafened. Their church lost its stained-glass windows, but it didn’t collapse. In a city where so much turned to rubble, it remained standing—one of only a few structures left upright.

What affected me most wasn’t only that they lived through the blast. It was what came after. Doctors warned them about radiation poisoning—about lesions, sickness, and slow deterioration. Many victims suffered horrific burns and sores. But the Jesuits, astonishingly, showed no lasting radiation effects. They were examined again and again—hundreds of times over the years—and the predicted consequences never came.

Father Hubert Schiffer, who was only thirty at the time, later described the moment. He had celebrated Mass early that morning and then sat down for breakfast. He had just sliced a grapefruit—such an ordinary detail, so human—when a flash lit the room. Then came the force. He said he was lifted from his chair and hurled through the air, battered and spun as if the wind itself had turned violent and personal. When he opened his eyes, he was on the ground. Around him: nothing. Whole sections of the city leveled as far as he could see. And he discovered, almost impossibly, that he was still alive—only a few pieces of glass in the back of his neck.

Years later, he told the story publicly and kept being asked the same question: Why were you spared? When so many died in an instant—or suffered afterward—why did this small community survive, and why without the radiation effects everyone expected?

Father Schiffer’s answer was simple and steady. He attributed it to devotion to the Blessed Mother, to the Rosary, and to living the message of Fatima. Not as a slogan, but as a daily practice—prayer, repentance, consecration, and fidelity in ordinary life. He believed they had been protected, as if sheltered under a mantle.

The video includes that haunting reconnaissance photo taken after the bombing: the church standing amid the flattened city. It looks almost like a signpost in a wasteland. And there are the priests—small figures in the street—staring out over miles of ruin, giving thanks that they were spared to continue God’s work.

I don’t watch that and feel triumphant. I feel sobered. I feel the weight of what human beings can do to one another—and then, right beside it, the mystery of mercy. The story doesn’t erase the horror, but it plants a strange, stubborn light inside it: the reminder that prayer is not pretend, that grace is not an idea, and that God can still be present in the middle of a world that has gone utterly dark.

That’s why this has stayed with me. Not because I think I can explain it neatly, but because I can’t. And because, after all the books and films and arguments, this one testimony makes me want to pray—quietly, faithfully—like it matters.

Root Beer Floats by Indian Creek

Dear Diary,

It is about the hottest time of the whole Iowa summer, so today our Reading Club decided that the coolest place we could possibly meet was down by Indian Creek, on the grassy spot near the cave and not far from Shaggycoat’s lodge. The trees made plenty of shade, and the creek sounded cool even before we got near it.

After everyone settled down, Father LeRoy asked me to read my chapter summary.

My Chapter Summary

The troubles at Lourdes were finally quieting down, and Bishop Laurence’s Commission could begin its work without interference. Bernadette was questioned carefully and told her story simply and calmly, just as she always had. The Commissioners investigated the spring and the remarkable cures, listening to witnesses and doctors and accepting only what could be firmly established. Their purpose was not to prove a miracle, but to discover the truth.

Sister Mary Claire said that was the important part.

“Faith does not have to be afraid of careful questions,” she said. “If something is true, an honest investigation cannot hurt it.”

Father nodded and said there was a great difference between believing eagerly and believing wisely.

Then Robert suddenly said, “I think this meeting needs further investigation.”

He opened his big cooler.

Vanilla ice cream!

And underneath were cold bottles of root beer, tall glasses, straws, and everything else necessary for the finest root beer floats I think Indian Creek has ever seen.

Robert poured the root beer over the ice cream until the foam came right to the tops of the glasses. Then he reached into the cooler again and brought out a little dish he had packed especially for Mini. She got her very own scoop of plain vanilla ice cream, with no root beer of course.

I think Mini decided right then that Robert was the finest member of the Reading Club.

Afterward we all took off our shoes and stockings and went wading. Oh, that water was cold! We squealed at first, but pretty soon it felt wonderful.

I asked Sister Mary Claire, “How long do you suppose water has been running through Indian Creek?”

She looked up and down the valley and said that the answer went back farther than I could imagine, to the Ice Ages, tens of thousands of years ago.

She told us that enormous glaciers once covered great parts of this country. They moved slowly across the land, grinding rocks beneath them into gravel, sand, and the finest powder. When the ice melted, great streams carried much of it away. Later the prairie winds lifted some of that fine soil and laid it down across western Iowa, helping to make the deep, rich farmland we have today.

I tried to imagine our green Iowa countryside with great sheets of ice nearby, cold meltwater rushing through the valleys, and no farms, roads, churches, or cornfields anywhere. Then I looked down at Indian Creek sparkling around my bare feet and thought how very old this little corner of God’s world really is.

The afternoon was slipping away when Father LeRoy said, “I had better get home. There is still a Sunday sermon waiting for me.”

Before leaving, Father stood on the grassy bank, raised his hand, and gave all of us his blessing.

Then he started climbing the creek bank with Mini trotting faithfully behind him.

We watched until Father reached the top.

The instant Mini saw that he was safely there, she turned around and came racing straight back down the bank to Robert’s cooler!

We all laughed, and even Father turned around at the top of the hill and laughed with us.

It was one of those summer afternoons I wish could last forever—the shady creek, bare feet in cold water, root beer floats, good friends, Father’s blessing, and even a lesson about glaciers.

And Mini making absolutely certain Robert had not forgotten another scoop of vanilla ice cream.

Kathy

Truth, Ice Cream, and Father’s Perfect Cup of Coffee

Dear Diary,

This morning after Mass, we were all getting ready for the Reading Club when Father surprised us.

“No apple tree today,” he announced. “And no church basement either. Everybody into the Cadillac!”

Robert asked where we were going, but Father only said, “I am in need of a truly great cup of coffee.”

That was enough of an explanation for him.

We all piled into Father’s Cadillac and drove to Le Mars and the Wells Blue Bunny Ice Cream Shop. Mini sat close beside me and watched everything through the window. I think she knew we were going someplace wonderful.

Father had arranged the whole thing ahead of time. Behind the shop, the workers had placed a picnic table in the yard and covered it with a bright red-checkered tablecloth. There were napkins, spoons, cold water, and everything we needed for our meeting. It looked so cheerful and perfect that Mini and I could hardly believe it had all been prepared for us.

Father was handed a large cup of hot coffee almost as soon as we arrived. He took one sip, closed his eyes for a moment, and said, “Now this is coffee.”

We all laughed.

After everyone was seated, Father nodded for me to begin. I opened our book and read my shortened chapter summary.

Baron Massy, Jacomet, and several other officials who had opposed the events at Lourdes were transferred elsewhere. Bishop Laurence, meanwhile, wisely waited until the public excitement had calmed before beginning the Church’s official investigation.

On October 17, the commissioners came to Lourdes and questioned Bernadette. She spoke calmly and modestly, telling them about the Apparitions, the spring, Our Lady’s request for a chapel, and the words, “I am the Immaculate Conception.”

The commissioners then visited the Grotto and carefully examined the spring and the reported cures. They questioned the sick, their families, neighbors, witnesses, and doctors. Two physicians studied each case to decide whether the cure had a natural explanation or could only be explained by the power of God.

The investigation was very strict. Witnesses were allowed to speak only about what they had personally seen, and all doubtful stories were rejected. The commissioners wanted neither to accept miracles too quickly nor deny them too soon. They wanted only clear facts and the truth.

When I finished, Sister Mary Claire said she admired the patience of the Bishop. He had not rushed merely because people demanded an answer.

Robert said, “They investigated everything almost like detectives.”

Father held his coffee cup between both hands and replied, “That is because the Church has nothing to fear from an honest search for truth. A true miracle does not become less true because it is carefully examined.”

I thought about Bernadette standing before all those important men. She did not try to sound clever or impressive. She simply told them what had happened.

Sister said that humility and truth often walk together because a humble person does not need to add anything to the facts.

Then came the surprise food. The shop had prepared a great banana split for the whole club, with Wells Blue Bunny ice cream, sliced bananas, chocolate syrup, whipped cream, and bright red cherries. We each had our own dish too, and Mini received a little bowl of vanilla ice cream all her own.

Father was offered another cup of coffee. He accepted it at once.

The breeze stirred the red-checkered tablecloth, and the happy sounds from the ice cream shop drifted into the yard. It was certainly different from our usual meeting beneath the apple tree, but it felt just right.

Before we left, I led the closing prayer.

“Dear Blessed Mother, help us to love the truth and never be afraid to seek it honestly. Give us the quiet courage of Bernadette, the patience of Bishop Laurence, and hearts that trust God even when we must wait. Please bless all who are sick or suffering, and lead them closer to your Son, Jesus. Amen.”

Father raised his hand and gave us his blessing.

Then he finished the last of his coffee and said, “A good chapter, good ice cream, fine company, and excellent coffee. I believe this meeting has been a complete success.”

I believe so too.

Good night, dear Diary.

Kathy

Take me to YouTube

The Barriers Came

Dear Diary,

After Mass, our Reading Club gathered again beneath the apple tree behind St. Mary’s. Father LeRoy asked me to begin by reading the chapter summary and Mini sat right beside me.

The mayor of Lourdes finally announced that the decree against the Grotto had been revoked. His proclamation was read throughout the town with drums and trumpets, and notices were posted on the walls.

Jacomet and the policemen then went to the Grotto with axes and tools to remove the barriers. A large crowd had already gathered. Some people knelt in prayer, while others quietly waited. Many women prayed their rosaries, and some carried bottles to fill with water from the spring.

No one in the crowd touched the barriers. They waited for the officials who had put them up to remove them.

Jacomet gave a speech, claiming that he had always supported the people and had even pleaded their cause. The crowd listened in cold silence. Then he ordered his men to tear down the barriers and carry the boards away.

Soon the road to the Grotto was filled with people. They knelt before the rocks, sang hymns, prayed the Litany of the Blessed Virgin, and drank from the spring. At last, the faithful were free to pray at Massabielle again.

Robert said it was strange how quickly some officials tried to make themselves appear helpful after the struggle was over.

Sister Mary Claire said, “It is always better to admit that we were wrong than to pretend we were right all along.”

Then Sister surprised us with a beautiful pecan pie and freshly whipped cream. Everyone was delighted. Mini could not have pie, but she received a small dish of plain whipped cream.

When we finished, Father asked me to dismiss the club with prayer.

Dear Jesus,

Thank You for giving courage and patience to those who remained faithful during the persecution.

Help us to admit when we are wrong and never pretend that we did good when we did not.

May Our Lady of Lourdes strengthen all who suffer for their faith.

Bless our Reading Club, our families, and all who ask for our prayers.

Amen.

Father gave us his blessing, and we all went home thankful that the barriers had finally come down and the people were free to pray at the Grotto.

Kathy

The Emperor Opens the Grotto

Dear Diary,

After Mass, our Reading Club met beneath the apple tree as usual. The morning was warm and bright, and everyone seemed especially cheerful because today’s chapter brought such welcome news.

I read my chapter summary aloud. The newspapers that had attacked Lourdes had finally grown quiet. Their arguments had not stopped belief in the Grotto. Instead, all their writing had spread the news of the miracles throughout France and even into other countries. People from Italy, Germany, and farther away were asking for drops of water from the spring.

Still, the officials would not give up. M. Rouland, Baron Massy, Jacomet, and the guards continued trying to keep people away. They acted as though their own wishes were stronger than the Bishop, the people, the evidence, and even God.

Then two important men went to speak with Emperor Napoleon III at Biarritz. Petitions were also sent to him, asking that the people be allowed to pray at the Grotto, that the sick be allowed to seek healing, and that everyone be given the freedom to examine the events for themselves.

When the Emperor finally learned the whole truth, he became very displeased. He rang for a servant and sent a short message by telegraph. The order was clear: the decree against the Grotto was to be withdrawn immediately, and the people were to be given complete freedom.

For a moment, everyone under the apple tree was quiet. Then Robert said, “Well, it certainly took them long enough.”

Father smiled and said that human pride may delay the truth, but it cannot defeat it forever.

Sister Mary Claire said the chapter showed why we must never become discouraged when something is right. Things at Lourdes were finally beginning to straighten themselves out.

Then Father announced that we should celebrate. He had brought a large carton of Wells Blue Bunny vanilla ice cream and a can of Hershey’s chocolate syrup. Robert passed the bowls while Sister poured the syrup. Some of us had so much chocolate that the ice cream could hardly be seen.

Mini received a little bowl of plain vanilla ice cream. She ate it carefully at first, but soon her whole nose was white.

The discussion became very lively. We talked about liberty of conscience, the duty to seek the truth, and how God can use even opposition to spread His work. Father said that the enemies of Lourdes had tried to silence the story, but had instead carried it throughout the world.

When the bowls were empty, I closed our meeting with this prayer:

Dear Lord Jesus,

Thank You for giving courage to those who defended the truth at Lourdes. Help us to remain faithful when others oppose what is right. Keep us humble, patient, and brave, and grant freedom to all who seek You with sincere hearts. Through the prayers of Our Lady of Lourdes, lead us always closer to You.

Amen.

Father raised his hand and blessed us:

May Almighty God bless you, the Father, and the Son, and the Holy Ghost.

Amen.

Then we gathered the bowls and spoons while Mini searched the grass for one last drop of ice cream.

Good night, dear Diary.

Mini’s Eighth Birthday at the Reading Club

 

Dear Diary,
 
This morning after Mass we gathered again under the old apple tree behind St. Mary’s for our Lourdes Reading Club. There was just enough of a cool breeze to remind us that summer won’t last forever. Father LeRoy opened with a prayer, and then he asked me to read today’s chapter.

The chapter told about how the miracles at Lourdes kept happening even while people argued about whether they were real. A little boy named Jean-Marie had suffered terrible pain for months, and no doctor could help him. His mother carried him to the Grotto, where she prayed to Our Blessed Mother. After he was washed in the spring water, he said, “I see God and the Blessed Virgin.” A few moments later he stood up completely healed. He walked home on his own feet, and everyone in his village rejoiced.

Then I read about Jeanne-Marie Massot, whose hands and feet had become almost useless. The moment she dipped her hands into the water at Lourdes, they became strong again. Instead of thinking only about herself, she used her newly healed hands to help a tired young peasant girl lift a heavy bundle of firewood onto her head. Sister Mary Claire smiled and said that was her favorite part of the chapter because real gratitude always becomes charity.

The chapter also told of another woman whose hearing was restored after years of deafness. All these miracles reminded us that God was still working quietly through Our Lady, giving hope to people who had almost given up.

After our discussion, Robert surprised us with a birthday party for Mini, who turned eight today! He brought a pitcher of cold Kool-Aid and what he called a healthy white cake with thick butter frosting. It was delicious. We all sang “Happy Birthday” to Mini, who wagged her little tail-less bottom as if she understood every word. Then Robert cut a small slice of birthday cake just for Mini and set it beside a bowl of cold milk. She happily enjoyed every crumb of her cake, lapped up every drop of milk, and then looked around with frosting on her nose, hoping someone might have another little piece for the birthday girl. We all laughed, and I think Mini knew it was her special day.

Father LeRoy said that today’s chapter teaches us something important. When God blesses us, we should look for someone else to help, just as Jeanne-Marie did. Blessings are meant to be shared.

Closing Prayer

Dear Blessed Mother, thank You for the miracles of Lourdes and for reminding us that God still cares for every suffering soul. Help us to be grateful for every blessing and quick to help others with cheerful hearts. May we always trust in Jesus, even when life is difficult. Amen.

Father LeRoy’s Blessing

“May Almighty God bless us, protect us from all evil, and bring us safely to everlasting life. And may Our Lady of Lourdes watch over each of you until we meet again. Amen.”

When Truth Asked to Be Examined

Dear Diary,

After Holy Mass, our Reading Club met beneath the apple tree behind St. Mary’s. Mini settled beside me while Father LeRoy asked me to read the chapter summary.

It told about the great newspaper battle over Lourdes. The Bishop had appointed a Commission to examine the cures and events at the Grotto. Catholic writers welcomed a fair investigation, while many unbelieving writers had already decided that miracles were impossible.

Robert said it was not fair to decide before looking at the evidence. Sister Mary Claire added, “Truth is never afraid of the light.”

Father explained that the Catholic newspapers defended the Church’s right to investigate but wisely waited for the Bishop’s judgment.

Then Sister served sweet cornbread with butter and maple syrup, along with cold milk. Mini received a small plain piece.

Before leaving, I prayed:

“Dear Lord Jesus, give us honest hearts. Help us seek truth with faith, reason, and courage. Our Lady of Lourdes, pray for us. Amen.”

Father blessed us:

“May Almighty God bless you, the Father, and the Son, and the Holy Ghost. Amen.”

Dear Diary, today I learned that truth never fears a fair examination.

Love, Kathy

 

The Cake, the Blanket, and the Trailer

 
Dear Diary,

The Reading Club met again today in the open air. We spread a large blanket beneath the apple tree behind the church, and the breeze made the leaves rustle softly above us. Mini settled at the edge of the blanket as though she belonged to the club as much as anyone.

Robert surprised us by bringing a double chocolate cake that he had made all by himself. He piled each slice with thick, heavy whipped cream. Sister Mary Claire said she never knew Robert had such hidden talents, and Father LeRoy said there was nothing hidden about the enormous slices he cut!

After we were settled, Father asked me to read my chapter summary.

I explained that the officials who opposed Lourdes had nearly lost their battle in the Pyrenees, so the newspapers began a new campaign in Paris and even in foreign countries. Some writers declared that miracles belonged only to ignorant times and refused even to examine the evidence. Others changed the facts, calling Bernadette deceitful and the spring merely a little trickle of water. One newspaper even printed a completely invented story claiming that the whole apparition had been rehearsed beforehand.

Robert said it was strange that men who called themselves enlightened would make up stories instead of searching honestly for the truth. Sister Mary Claire said pride can close a person’s mind before the evidence is ever considered. Father reminded us that refusing to look at the truth does not make the truth disappear.

We ate our wonderful cake afterward. Mini sat beside Robert hoping for a crumb, but chocolate is not good for dogs, so he gave her a little dish of plain whipped cream instead. She seemed perfectly satisfied.

I ended our meeting with a prayer that we might always be humble enough to seek the truth, even when it surprises us. Father LeRoy gave us his blessing, and we folded the blanket and went home very full and happy.

Good night, dear Diary.

Pride Would Not Give Way

 
Dear Diary,

Today was such a pretty summer day that our Reading Club met on the grass near the farmhouse. The willow branches moved softly in the breeze, and everything smelled warm and green after morning Mass. Mini stayed close beside us while we sat on the picnic blanket.

Father LeRoy asked me to read my chapter summary. The Bishop’s inquiry and M. Filhol’s report had taken away every good reason for keeping people from the Grotto. The water was safe, and the Church was carefully studying what had happened.

The officials should have admitted their mistake and removed the barriers, but their pride would not let them.

Sister Mary Claire said pride sometimes makes people hold tightly to what is wrong, even when the truth is plain. Father said it takes humility and courage to say, “I was wrong.”

Afterward, we had chocolate sundaes. Mine had plenty of chocolate syrup and a cherry on top. Mini could not have chocolate, so she had a little dish of vanilla ice cream and seemed perfectly happy with it.

I prayed, “Dear Lord, keep pride out of my heart. Help me to love the truth and humbly admit when I am wrong. Amen.”

Father gave us his blessing, and we stayed beneath the willow a little longer, enjoying the lovely day.

Kathy

Frosted Buns in the Clubhouse

Tuesday, July 28, 1957

Dear Diary,

The Reading Club met inside our clubhouse today. It was warm and cheerful, with the window open and the leaves rustling outside. Father LeRoy, Robert, Sister Mary Claire, and I gathered around the table with our books.

Sister brought the most wonderful frosted buns. The frosting was thick and white, and Robert said they looked almost too pretty to eat. Almost! We had them with cold Jersey milk from the little refrigerator.

Father asked me to read my summary of Chapter Ten. It told how Professor Filhol, a respected chemist from Toulouse, carefully examined the water from the spring at Lourdes. His tests showed that it was ordinary, wholesome drinking water and contained no powerful minerals or medicines that could explain the remarkable cures.

Robert said this made the cures even more difficult for the officials to dismiss. Sister Mary Claire explained that honest science had not opposed the truth. Instead, it had removed the false claim that the water itself was some kind of natural medicine. Father said true faith never needs to fear a careful investigation, because truth cannot contradict truth.

Before we left, I thanked God for our little clubhouse, our books, our friends, and for helping us recognize the truth with both our minds and our hearts.

Father LeRoy gave us his blessing, and our meeting was adjourned.

Good night, dear Diary.

Kathy

Milk and Hershey Bars Beneath the Apple Tree

 
July 27, 1957

Dear Diary,

The Reading Club met beneath the apple tree behind St. Mary’s again today. There was just a little coolness in the air that made it seem as though fall might not be so far away.

Robert brought a quart jar of cold Jersey milk, and Father LeRoy surprised us with big nickel Hershey candy bars. What a treat! Mini watched us from beneath the picnic table until Robert filled a little dish with milk for her. She drank every drop.

Then Father asked me to read my chapter summary.

“The Minister of Public Worship wrote to Bishop Laurence after hearing exaggerated stories about Lourdes. He wanted the Bishop to condemn everything without first examining the facts.

“Bishop Laurence answered calmly. He explained that a few children had behaved foolishly near the Grotto, but the trouble had quickly ended. The priests of Lourdes had acted prudently and had not encouraged the pilgrimage.

“The Bishop would not condemn people merely for praying, especially when no disorder had taken place. Since the crowds and reports of cures continued to grow, he appointed a Commission to investigate carefully. His reply was so clear and reasonable that the Minister had no answer.”

Robert said the Minister wanted a decision before knowing the truth.

“That is how injustice often begins,” Sister Mary Claire said.

Father nodded. “Bishop Laurence had the courage to wait for the facts.”

Before we left, Sister said tomorrow’s meeting would be back in the Readers Clubhouse.

“And lunch will be on me,” she added.

We bowed our heads, and I prayed:

“Dear Lord, help us to be patient, truthful, and slow to judge. Bless Bernadette and our Reading Club. Amen.”

Father gave us his blessing, and Mini came out from beneath the table licking the last drop of milk from her nose.

Good night, dear Diary.

Love,  Kathy

Sunday Dinner Under the Apple Tree

Dear Diary,

After morning Mass, the weather was so beautiful that our Reading Club met beneath the apple tree. Mini rested beside me while the leaves made dancing shadows across our books.

Father LeRoy asked me to read my chapter summary.

I explained that Bishop Laurence had scarcely issued his order when he received a letter from M. Rouland, the Minister of Public Worship.

The officials had sent greatly exaggerated reports about the false visionaries at Lourdes. No one knew for certain who had encouraged the children, so a careful historian could only tell the known facts and leave the rest for the reader to judge.

M. Jacomet and M. Massy tried to use the foolish visions to distract people from Bernadette, the spring, and the cures. But Abbé Peyramale quickly stopped the false visionaries, and the public was not deceived.

M. Rouland, however, trusted the official reports without examining them carefully. He urged Bishop Laurence to condemn what was happening at Lourdes, even though the Bishop was already studying everything patiently and wisely. It was strange to think that this same Minister would later approve the building of a great church at Massabielle.

Robert said, “He believed the reports because they came from important officials.”

Sister Mary Claire nodded. “Important people can still be mistaken.”

Father said it was a lesson about rumors. “The Bishop waited, listened, and examined the facts. That is always wiser than judging too quickly.”

After our discussion, I prayed:

“Dear Blessed Mother, help us to love the truth and never judge others by rumors. Keep our minds clear, our words kind, and our faith strong. Our Lady of Lourdes, pray for us. Amen.”

Father gave us his blessing, and we closed our books.

Then Sister Mary Claire and Robert hurried to the church basement and returned with a cart piled with Iowa loose-meat sandwiches, potato chips, baked beans, and vanilla pudding with whipped cream.

Robert grinned and said, “Well, it is Sunday dinner, you know.”

We ate beneath the apple tree while Mini watched every bite. Sister finally gave her a little dish of plain hamburger, which she ate very neatly.

It was a beautiful Sunday, Dear Diary—Holy Mass, a good lesson about truth, and Sunday dinner beneath the apple tree.

Kathy

The Reading Club Takes the River Road

Dear Diary,

Father LeRoy surprised our Reading Club today by saying he had an errand to do in Sioux City. He invited Sister Mary Claire, Robert, Mini, and me to ride along, and said we could discuss the chapter in the car.

We followed the Big Sioux River toward the city. Everything was beautiful and green from all the rain. The trees were thick and full, and the river appeared now and then between the branches. As we passed Stone Park, Father slowed down so we could admire the wooded hills.

“Now, Kathy,” Father said, “you may read your chapter summary.”

I opened my notebook.

“Bishop Laurence had waited a long time before speaking officially about Lourdes. After hearing many trustworthy witnesses, he decided the time had come to investigate.

“On July 28, 1858, he appointed a Church commission to study Bernadette’s visions, the spring at the Grotto, and the cures connected with its water. Priests, doctors, and scientists were to examine the evidence carefully and question witnesses.

“The Bishop wanted to know whether the cures and visions could be explained naturally or whether they were truly supernatural. He asked the commission to seek the truth without leaving anything unexamined.”

When I finished, Robert said, “The Bishop was very careful.”

“Yes,” Sister Mary Claire answered. “He did not believe too quickly, but he did not refuse to listen.”

Father said, “Faith has nothing to fear from an honest search for truth.”

Apparently Father had planned more than just an errand. He reached into a little ice chest and brought out granola bars and a quart of cold milk packed carefully in ice. We passed the granola bars around, and Sister poured the milk into paper cups while Father drove.

Mini received a small corner of Robert’s granola bar, although Sister said granola bars were not really made for dogs.

After Father finished his Church errand in Sioux City, he drove us to Riverside Park. He had packed a real picnic without telling us. We sat beneath a shady tree near the river and ate sandwiches, boiled eggs, pickles, apples, and the rest of the cold milk.

The river moved quietly past us, and everything smelled green and clean. Father said it was good for a Reading Club to leave its regular meeting place once in a while, especially when the road itself gave us so much to look at.

Before we left, I read our prayer.

“Dear Blessed Mother, help us to seek the truth patiently and honestly. Keep us from judging too quickly, and teach us to listen with humble hearts. Amen.”

Father blessed us and our journey home. Then we packed the picnic things into the car and followed the Big Sioux River toward Littlemore, with the green trees and fields shining in the afternoon light. 

Love Kathy