This morning the thermometer said it was 3 degrees above zero, and the whole world looked like it was holding its breath. Even the windows seemed to crackle with cold.
Robert called and said that he tried to start his pickup, but it only made that sad, slow sound—like it wanted to wake up and just couldn’t. He forgot to plug in the heater last night, and Sister Mary Claire said, “That’s what happens when the cold gets a head start.” Then she looked out at the hard white yard and told me very plainly that it was too dangerous to walk to Church today, and not even safe to go down to the cave. I felt disappointed right away, but when Sister gets that careful tone, I know she’s thinking like a guardian angel.
So she said, “The garage will be our little church today.”
I helped her tidy it up—just a little—because the garage is still a garage, even if it’s fixed up nice. Sister brought me something very special: Mother’s Crucifix. She let me hang it on the wall. It still had that piece of yarn tied on it, the yarn Mother used to help support Jesus on the cross. I don’t know why, but seeing that yarn made my throat feel tight. It was like Mother’s hands were still there, doing a small loving thing, trying to hold up what looked too heavy.
Mini followed us in, of course. She pranced a little on the cold floor, then decided being brave was enough for one minute and curled herself into a tight loaf near our feet. Her ears did that “airplane” look, like she was ready to take off if the cold tried to boss her around. But then she gave a tiny sigh and wagged her little bottom—because even in winter, Mini wants us all together.
Sister read Today’s Meditation about the Holy Family returning from Egypt. She explained it to me in a way I could feel in my bones. She said Mary and Joseph didn’t hurry home just because they wanted to—they waited for God’s direction, and when the time came, they went without fuss, trusting that God knew what roads were safe. Sister said, “Real faith isn’t only about doing hard things. Sometimes faith is obeying God’s light and using sense—like not walking into danger just to prove we can.”
Then she told me how Saint Joseph was careful, too—how he prayed when he wasn’t sure what to do next, and God guided him. Sister said, “We can be brave and still be prudent. Today, the right choice is to stay. We’re not trapped, Kathy—we’re guided.”
I looked at our plain little garage, the Crucifix on the wall, and Mini all tucked in close, and it didn’t feel small anymore. It felt like Nazareth must have felt—quiet and hidden and humble, but full of Jesus anyway. Sister said Jesus loves lowly places, and that’s why He chose them. And I thought, maybe our little garage church is exactly where He wants us today.
We said our prayers, and Sister asked God to help Robert’s pickup start later, and to keep everyone safe in this bitter cold. I made my own resolution in my heart: to let faith lead me today, not impatience.
Now it’s evening, and the garage is quiet again, but I still keep seeing that yarn on the Crucifix—like a reminder that love supports what it can, even when it’s just a small string tied with care.
Little Prayer:
O Jesus, help me to be guided by faith and not by my own hurry. Keep us safe in the cold, bless Robert and his pickup, and make our humble places holy. And please help me love You like Mother did—steady and gentle. Amen.
Love, Kathy
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