Dear Diary,
This morning we woke to a half inch of ice laid over everything like clear glass. The trees bowed low and the gravel road shone hard and silver. Church was cancelled, of course. Even Robert’s pickup would have had no business out on that road. So instead, Sister Mary Claire and I wrapped ourselves in blankets and turned on the little radio.
Mini knew right away it was an “inside day.” She trotted from window to window with her ears alert, then curled up near us like a warm little loaf, watching our faces as if she could tell something solemn was happening. Every so often she sighed and pressed her chin on Sister’s slipper, and it made me feel comforted, like she was keeping watch on our quiet.
We listened to Bishop Barron speak about freedom — real freedom — the kind that chooses the good. He quoted Thomas More from A Man for All Seasons, saying that God made animals for innocence and plants for their simplicity, but man He made to serve Him “wittily, in the tangle of his mind.”
That word wittily stayed with me.
Sister said it means God doesn’t want us to love Him by accident or by instinct like birds flying south. He wants us to think. To wrestle. To choose Him on purpose. Even when it’s hard. Even when the road is icy and the world feels stiff and cold.
Mini doesn’t have to decide about goodness the way we do. She just loves and follows and trusts. If Sister stands up, Mini stands up. If we kneel to pray, Mini settles down as if prayer-time has a sound she understands. I watched her and thought: I want my choosing to be as faithful as her trusting — only with my mind and will added in, like Father says, so my love can be a gift I mean to give.
It made the house feel very quiet. Not empty quiet, but solemn quiet — like the Church right before Lent begins. We didn’t rush to fill the silence. We just let it sit with us.
I kept thinking how animals do what they are made to do without deciding. But I must decide. I must use my mind and my will. That feels serious. Almost heavy. But also beautiful — like being trusted with something important.
Maybe that is why Lent is coming. To help us practice choosing well. Choosing prayer. Choosing truth. Choosing love.
The ice outside did not melt all day. It held everything still. And perhaps that was fitting. A stillness before we begin again.
Tonight I want to give God not just my feelings, but my thinking and my willing too.
Evening Prayer
Lord Jesus,
You made me with a mind to seek truth and a will to choose what is good.
Help me not to drift like a leaf but to choose You carefully and bravely.
As Lent comes near, teach me to love You on purpose.
Keep my heart steady even when the road is icy.
Bless Sister Mary Claire, and bless little Mini, and make our home a small, quiet place where we can choose You again. Amen.
Love, Kathy
No comments:
Post a Comment