Quiet Snow and the Desert

Dear Diary,

Today was so cold it almost made the air feel crisp instead of just cold. It was 7 degrees this morning, and the world looked stiff and still. Robert wasn’t able to pick us up for Church, so Sister Mary Claire and I were homebound.

But I was grateful all day long, because we had gone to the Vigil Mass, and after Church we spent extra time in front of the Blessed Sacrament. I keep thinking how the church can be warm and quiet even when it’s bitter outside, and how Jesus being there makes everything feel steady—like your heart can come in out of the weather.

Sister Mary Claire read to me from The Circling Year, that faithful old 1925 meditation book that was first written for religious sisters living quietly in the cloister. Sister says it’s like the book was made for people who want to listen carefully. Father LeRoy reads it too, and sometimes he brings its thoughts into his homily, like he’s handing us a lantern for the day.

Today’s meditation was about Jesus going into the desert to fast and pray, and then being tempted. It said Jesus didn’t rush into His great work without first going into silence—almost like He let the Holy Ghost lead Him away from noise so His heart could be strong and ready. Sister Mary Claire said that’s why silence is not just “being quiet,” but a kind of listening. She told me, “Kathy, the desert is a place where God can speak to the heart because there’s less crowding in there.”

The meditation also said temptation itself isn’t sin, because even Jesus allowed the devil to tempt Him. That helped me, because sometimes just having a bad thought makes me feel worried, even if I don’t want it. Sister said, “The important thing is what you do next—do you turn toward God, or do you play with the temptation like it’s a toy?” I thought that was a good way to say it.

It also talked about how the enemy can switch tactics—if he sees someone can resist one kind of temptation, he’ll try to puff them up with pride. Sister Mary Claire looked right at me when she said that, but she wasn’t scolding. She was just helping me watch my own heart.

Mini was a very good girl as usual. She stayed close, followed us from room to room, and curled up like a little warm loaf near the stove. When Sister read the part about “finding strength in silence,” Mini yawned and sighed like she agreed completely. I scratched behind her ears and told her she was practicing the desert life just fine.

Tonight, even though we couldn’t go to Mass this morning, I feel like Jesus still visited us—through the Vigil Mass memory, through the quiet of this cold day, and through the words from The Circling Year that keep pointing the heart back to Him.

Evening Prayer:

Jesus, lead me into the kind of silence where You can speak to my heart. Help me not to fear temptations, but to answer them the right way—by turning quickly to You. Give me strength to practice little mortifications that help me grow, and keep me humble and steady. Thank You for the Vigil Mass, for time near You in the Blessed Sacrament, and for a peaceful home on a seven-degree day. Please bless Sister Mary Claire, Father LeRoy, dear Robert, and sweet Mini, and keep us safe through the night. Amen.

Love, Kathy