Before Bed with Bishop Barron

 

Dear Dairy,

Before bed, Sister Mary Claire and I listened to Bishop Barron’s homily together, and Mini curled up nearby like she was listening too. The part that stayed with me most was that Jesus wept. Sister said it shows how tender His Heart is, and how He does not stay far off from our sorrow.

She told me that sometimes Jesus seems to wait, but that does not mean He is absent. He is still loving us and working, even when we do not understand. I liked that very much.

Tonight I want to remember that Jesus comes close to us in our sadness, and that He can bring life even into the hardest places.

Dear Jesus, help me trust You always. Bless Sister Mary Claire, Mini, and our home tonight. Amen.

Love, Kathy

Reggie and My Tape Recorder

Dear Diary,

Tonight after supper, Sister Mary Claire sat with me and read a story from a very old little book called True Stories for First Communicants. She told me it was first published in 1949, and as she read, I held my new tape recorder very carefully and decided I would make a recording of it all by myself. I wanted to keep the story just the way she read it.

Here is what I recorded:

 

TRUE STORIES FOR FIRST COMMUNICANTS published in 1949.

REGGIE

A few years ago in a large convent school you might have seen a happy band of children getting ready for their First Holy Communion. Such little mites they looked, nine boys and seven girls, the youngest only six, the eldest eight years old. Though they were so young they were very much in earnest, all trying to fill their hearts with beautiful flowers for Little Baby Jesus. Day after day they would come running in to tell Sister of some fresh flower just added to the rest. It would be: “Sister, I gave a penny to a poor boy coming to school!” or: “Sister, I turned the rope three times instead of jumping,” or a fidgety little mite would say: “Sister, I never looked round once the whole lesson,” and so on, each wanting Sister to know how much he or she was trying.

The First Communion Day was to be on the 25th of March, the beautiful Feast of the Annunciation. Now all preparations were made. Each little soul had been washed in the Precious Blood of Our Dear Lord in Confession the day before, and the great morning of the 25th had come. Such a beautiful spring morning it was. One by one the children arrived, the little girls in their white dresses with their snowy veils and wreaths of roses on their heads, and the little boys in nice suits. As they came in, each sat quietly in a little chair in class, until all were ready. One little lad, in changing his shoes, had soiled his fingers and asked if he might go and wash them. “I couldn’t go to Holy Communion with dirty fingers, could I, Sister?” he said as he went. Alas! how little Sister or he thought what that little act would cost him.

As he was washing his fingers he spied a little cup just beside the basin. Without a thought he filled it to the brim and took a long refreshing drink, then, running quickly back to the others he sat down contentedly in his chair. Two minutes later there was a knock at the door. Sister was wanted. One of the servants was there; she came to say she thought—she wasn’t sure, but she thought—she had caught sight of one of the little gentlemen taking a drink of water. Sister’s heart sank within her. Could it be true? Returning to the children she said quietly: “Did any little boy forget and take a drink of water?”

Poor little Reggie! In an instant it flashed into his mind what he had done. With the remembrance came the temptation not to tell, but it was only for a moment. No, he would be brave. White as his little suit, and trembling from head to foot, he looked up at the Sister. “Oh, Sister, I did—I never thought. Oh, Sister, what can I do?” Tenderly drawing the child to her side Sister tried to comfort him, telling him that he need only wait till to-morrow. But the poor little fellow seemed quite stunned, unable to realise what it all meant.

Then they went up to chapel in procession. Reggie knelt beside Sister. What were his thoughts as he knelt there in that beautiful chapel, watching the priest and listening to the sweet singing? Presently the bell rang for the Elevation. Then the children made aloud their short “Acts before Holy Communion.” The longed-for moment had at last arrived. Slowly and reverently the little ones went up to the altar rails—all but Reggie. Only then did the truth really dawn upon him—Baby Jesus could not come into his heart. All would receive Him, only he would be left out. Poor little Reggie, he burst into passionate sobs, startling all in the chapel. He was obliged to be taken out that the others might not be disturbed.

All that day he joined with the others in their games and amusements. Such a sad little face he looked among the others whose hearts were overflowing with peace and happiness.

But the next morning very early, when all his little companions of the day before were still in bed, Reggie’s father and mother brought him once more to the convent. No music and singing to be heard to-day. All the music was in Reggie’s heart as at last Baby Jesus entered it for the first time. How much he had to tell Him—all about the long weeks of preparation and then about the bitter disappointment of the day before. But how happy he was now, and how quickly the moments flew.

“I had to finish talking to Jesus all the way out of chapel!” he said. But I don’t think he or his little companions could ever forget that they must be “fasting from midnight.”

After I finished recording, I just sat very still. Sister said Reggie loved Jesus so much that even when he made a mistake, he told the truth right away. I think Jesus must have been very close to him.

I held my little tape recorder and imagined that maybe someday someone else might listen to this and love Jesus more too.

Evening Prayer

Dear Jesus, please help me to be brave like Reggie and always tell the truth. Stay close to me, especially when I come to You. I want my heart to be ready for You always.

Love,

Kathy 

The First Recording of Spring

Dear Diary,

Today felt like a little miracle—47 degrees on the very first day of Spring! The snow is finally giving up, and the air didn’t bite my cheeks the way it has for so long. It almost felt like the world was taking a deep breath again.

But the very best part of today was what Sister Mary Claire brought home from the thrift store. She found an old tape recorder—with a whole box of unused reels—and guess what? She gave them to me. All of them. Just like that.

I could hardly believe it.

We set it on the table, and when I pressed the buttons and saw the reels begin to turn, it felt like something very important was happening. Like my words could be kept safe and remembered. Sister said I could use it for prayers, or readings, or even my diary if I wanted.

So I made my very first recording.

I was a little nervous at first, but then I began with my morning prayer, just like always:

“I will begin and end each day with Jesus and Mary in my heart…”

As I said the words out loud, it felt different—stronger somehow. Like I wasn’t just thinking them, but really giving them to Jesus. I imagined Him right there, close to me, listening in that quiet, loving way of His. And I thought of Mary too, so gentle, helping me keep my thoughts where they belong.

I told them both that I want to stay close. That I don’t want to forget.

Maybe if I keep saying these prayers—maybe even recording them—my heart will start to feel more like theirs… full of love and peace.

Mini sat nearby the whole time, watching me like she knew something special was happening. Her little ears were perked up, and she didn’t even try to play.

Tonight I feel so happy and thankful. Like I’ve been given a little way to hold onto something good.

Evening Prayer

Dear Jesus, thank You for this beautiful first day of Spring, and for the gift of this recorder. Help me to use my words for You, and to keep You and Mary always in my heart. Please make my heart gentle and loving like Yours. Amen.

Love,

Kathy

The Thaw and the Thorn-Crowned King

Dear Diary,

This morning I woke up to the sound of water dripping from the roof. It wasn’t snow anymore, but a soft, steady dripping, like everything was slowly letting go. Sister Mary Claire said it was already 36 degrees, and it felt almost like a promise that spring was near.

Mini lifted her head and listened with me, her ears stretched out like little airplane wings. The whole farm felt quieter, but also alive again.

Before getting ready for Church, I went out to gather the eggs from the chicken coop. Long icicles hung from the roof, and drops of water fell one by one. When I opened the door, the hens hurried out to see the warmer weather, all curious and stepping into the slushy ground. They clucked and wandered just a little ways, like they were testing it.

Since they were so busy exploring, I just left them be after gathering eggs and went back in to get ready for Church.

Robert picked us up as usual and right on time on his way to Church. The roads were wet and slushy, and his truck made that familiar crunching sound. He said it felt good to be out again after the storm, and I think we all felt the same.

At St. Mary’s, everything seemed especially peaceful. It felt like coming home after being away.

In his homily, Father LeRoy spoke about the Crowning with Thorns. He said that Jesus didn’t just suffer pain, but also allowed Himself to be mocked and treated like nothing, and that He accepted it all out of love. He said sometimes the hardest thing is when our hearts are hurt, not just our bodies.

On the way home, Robert said he never thought about how much of it was done just to make fun of Jesus, and that it must have been a deep kind of hurt. Sister Mary Claire nodded and said that the crown of thorns was offered for all the pride and selfishness in the world.

When we got home, Sister explained it more simply to me. She said Jesus wore that crown to take away our pride, especially the kind that hides inside our thoughts and feelings. She told me that when I feel hurt or unnoticed, I can remember Him standing there so quietly, not pushing anything away.

She said loving Him means letting go of those feelings and trusting Him instead.

Right now Mini is curled up beside me, warm and sleepy, and everything feels good.

Evening Prayer

Dear Jesus,

When I think of Your crown of thorns, help me to be gentle and humble in my heart.
When I feel hurt or forgotten, remind me of Your quiet love.
Teach me to offer You even the smallest things with patience.

Help me to love You more each day.

All for Jesus,

Love, Kathy.

Wednesday - After the Blizzard

Dear Diary, 

This morning the blizzard was finally over, and everything looked so bright and still, like the whole world had been tucked in under a thick white quilt. The temperature was 34 degrees, and the snow had a heavy, wet feel to it. We waited and watched for the snowplow, but it came just a little too late for Church. Sister said it couldn’t be helped, and that sometimes God keeps us close to home for a reason.

Not long after, dear Robert came with his tractor and loader, just like he always does, and he cleared our driveway so we could at least move about again. The big scoop of the loader made such satisfying sounds pushing the snow aside, and Mini barked a little at it but stayed close to me.

The rest of the morning and into the afternoon, Sister Mary Claire and I worked together digging out paths and tidying up what the storm had left behind. My boots felt heavy with snow, and my cheeks got rosy from the cold, but it felt good to be outside again.

Later in the afternoon, we came in and warmed ourselves, and Sister read to me the meditation for today—The Scourging at the Pillar. She read slowly, and I could almost see it in my mind, Jesus standing there so quietly, even though He was hurt so badly.

Sister said that even though Jesus was completely innocent, He allowed Himself to be treated like the lowest of all, even like a slave, because of how much He loves us. She told me that sometimes love doesn’t look strong on the outside—it can look quiet and patient, like Jesus standing there without complaining.

She explained that when we think about His suffering, it should make our hearts feel sorry for our sins, but also very grateful, because He chose to go through all of it for us. She said that even the hard things we go through—like the cold, or being stuck at home, or when things don’t go our way—can be little ways to stay close to Him if we offer them up with love.

I kept thinking about how the meditation said His whole body was like one great wound, and how His Precious Blood fell to the ground. It made me feel very quiet inside. Sister said that when we feel that way, it means our hearts are listening.

She also said that Jesus didn’t have to suffer so much, but He chose to, so we would never doubt His love, and so we would have courage when we have our own troubles. She smiled and said, “When something is hard, Kathy, you can remember—Jesus has already gone much farther for you.”

Tonight I am trying to remember that when things feel uncomfortable or unfair, I can be patient and offer it to Jesus, just like He accepted everything with love.

Mini is already curled up, all warm and sleepy after our long day, and the house is quiet again after the storm.

Evening Prayer

Dear Jesus,

Thank You for loving me so much that You were willing to suffer for me.

Please help me to be patient when things are hard, and to remember Your love when I feel uncomfortable or tired.

Make my heart gentle and thankful, and help me to offer even little things to You with love.

I want to stay close to You always.

Amen.

Love,

Kathy

After the Blizzard

DearDiary, 

The blizzard let up today, but it is still very cold, only single digits, and the road hasn’t been cleared, so we stayed home again.

Mini sat by the window watching the snow drift and flicked her little ears when the wind stirred. Everything outside looks quiet and white, like the world is resting.

Sister Mary Claire and I read the meditation about Pilate. He asked, “What evil hath He done?” and still let Jesus be punished.

I asked Sister why he would do that if he knew Jesus was innocent.

She said softly, “Because he was afraid, Kathy. He wanted to please everyone instead of choosing what was right.”

That stayed with me. I thought about how sometimes even I know what is right but hesitate.

Sister said that Jesus stood there quietly and took everything with love. She told me that loving Him means trying to stay calm and patient, even when something feels unfair.

The chickens were all safe and tucked in, and Omelette looked content on her roost.

Tonight feels very still. Before bed, we prayed, and Sister said part of the Divine Office. It made everything feel peaceful, like the whole day was placed in God’s hands.

Evening Prayer

O my Jesus, help me to be brave and choose what is right. Teach me to be patient and quiet like You, and to trust You in all things.

Love,

Kathy

The Blizzard’s Last Hold

Dear Diary, 

The blizzard still has its grip on Camp Littlemore tonight. The thermometer outside the kitchen window read four degrees above zero, and the wind keeps sweeping the snow across the fields like white smoke. The radio says the storm is still moving through, but Sister Mary Claire smiled and told me that however long winter tries to hold on, spring is already right behind it.

This afternoon we read the meditation from The Circling Year about Pilate asking the crowd what he should do with Jesus. The people shouted so loudly, “Crucify Him!” that Pilate gave in, even though he knew Jesus had done nothing wrong. Sister said the saddest part was that Pilate knew the truth but did not have the courage to follow it.

I thought about that while the wind rattled the windows today. It must have been terrible for Jesus to stand there while everyone shouted against Him. Sister explained that the meditation teaches us not to be half-hearted like Pilate, but to choose what is right even when it is hard. She said Lent is a time to learn to carry our little crosses with Jesus.

Mini stayed close to the stove most of the afternoon, curled up in a tight little circle. When she did step outside she came right back in again, with snowflakes clinging to her whiskers. The chickens are tucked safely on their roost in the coop, and the drifts are piled high against the fence. Everything at Littlemore Farm is snug and quiet even though the storm is still racing across the fields.

Before supper we stood by the window and looked toward the road that leads to St. Mary’s, now completely hidden by the blowing snow. Sister reminded me that the people of the parish are probably all huddled safely in their homes tonight just like we are.

She said storms always look strongest right before they pass.

Tonight that made me think about the cross too. The crowd thought they had won when they shouted for Jesus to be crucified, but Sister said the cross was really the beginning of the greatest victory the world has ever known.

So even while the wind is howling tonight, I think spring must be getting ready somewhere just beyond this storm.

Evening Prayer

Dear Jesus,

You stood quietly before Pilate while the crowd shouted against You.

Please give me a brave heart so I will always choose what is right and stay close to You.

Watch over all the families of St. Mary’s parish tonight, and keep them warm and safe in this terrible blizzard. Protect the farmers, travelers, and anyone who may be caught out in the storm. Guard our little farm too, and keep the animals safe in their shelters.

And when this last winter storm finally passes, please help us remember that Your light is always stronger than the darkest wind or snow.

Amen.

Love,

Kathy

Fourth Sunday of Lent and Snowed-In

Dear Diary,

This morning the thermometer said 27 degrees, and the wind was howling so hard that the snow was flying sideways past the windows. The blizzard the radio warned about yesterday has truly come. The announcer said the roads are shut, and even Church was canceled for this Fourth Sunday of Lent. That hardly ever happens, but the snow is piling up in great drifts.

Still, all is well at Camp Littlemore Farm.

After chores and making sure the chickens had feed and fresh water in the coop, Sister Mary Claire and I decided we would have a little church right here at home. Sister set the radio on the table, and Mini curled up at our feet like she knew something important was happening.

We listened to Bishop Barron’s homily on the radio. He spoke about the story of the man born blind from the Gospel. Sister explained it to me afterward while the wind rattled the windows.

She said that the man in the story is meant to be all of us. We are born into a world that is sometimes dark because of cruelty and sin. It is like being born without sight. But then Jesus comes and says something wonderful: “I am the light of the world.”

Sister said that means Jesus doesn’t just teach us about light—He actually gives us light, helping us see what is good and true.

I looked out the window then. Everything was white with blowing snow, and it was hard to see very far at all. It made me think how easy it is to lose our way when we cannot see clearly. But if Jesus is the light, then even in a blizzard like today, we are not really lost.

Mini lifted her head when the radio finished and wagged her little bottom. I think she believed church was over.

Tonight the wind is still singing around the house, but inside it feels peaceful. I am thankful that even when the roads close and we cannot reach church, the light of Jesus still reaches us.

Evening Prayer

Dear Jesus,

You are the Light of the World.

Please shine your light into my heart so I may see what is right and good.

Help me never walk in darkness but always follow you.

Bless our little farm, Sister Mary Claire, Mini, and all those traveling in the storm tonight.

Amen.

Love, Kathy

The Day the Snow Came Sideways

Dear Diary,

Today it was 31 degrees, and the sky looked like it had something serious in mind. The radio said there was a winter storm watch, and before long the snow began flying sideways past the windows like little white birds that had lost their way. Sister Mary Claire looked out at it for a while and said it might be wiser to wait and go to Church tomorrow instead, when the storm might pass. I was glad she said that because the wind was howling so hard it rattled the old window frame.

Even though we stayed home, I kept thinking about today’s meditation called “Barabbas Is Preferred to Jesus.” Sister explained it to me at the table while the snow kept blowing harder and harder outside. She said it must have been very sad for Jesus to stand there so quietly while the people chose Barabbas, who was a criminal, instead of Him. Just a few days before they had shouted Hosanna and wanted Him to be their king, and then suddenly they changed their minds.

Sister said sometimes people can be like that when they forget God and start thinking more about themselves than about what is right. She told me the meditation is asking us a question in our hearts: Do we choose Jesus, or do we choose something else instead?

I sat there thinking about that for quite a while. Jesus stayed silent and humble even when people treated Him unfairly. Sister said His Heart was still praying the whole time. That made me feel a little ashamed because I sometimes complain when small things bother me.

Before supper I went out to the chicken coop to make sure the hens had plenty of food and water before the storm got any worse. The wind pushed the snow right across the yard and into my coat sleeves. The chickens were already tucked in on their roost, warm together above the straw and clucking softly in the dim light.

When I came back inside, I brushed the snow from my coat and boots and warmed my hands by the stove while Mini stayed close beside me, happy to be back in the warmth.

As the snow kept sweeping across the yard, I thought again about the crowd choosing Barabbas instead of Jesus. I hope that when my own little choices come during the day, I will remember to choose Jesus and stay faithful to Him.

Dear Jesus,

I am sorry for the times I choose my own way instead of Yours.

Help me to be faithful and not change like the crowd did.

Teach my heart to love You more than anything else, and to stay close to You even when it is difficult. Amen.

P.S. I checked the chicken house one more time before dark, and Omelette was tucked safely on her roost between two other hens. She gave a soft little cluck when she saw me, as if to say everything was just fine in there despite the storm.

Love,

Kathy ✧

The Silent Road to Church

Dear Diary,

Robert could not pick us up for Church this morning, so Sister Mary Claire and I walked. It was one of those bleak March days when winter does not seem quite ready to let go. The gravel road was wet and muddy in places, and the snow lay in thin patches across the fields. Mini trotted ahead of us, her little paws splashing through the puddles while the cold wind blew across the open land.

Sister Mary Claire held my hand as we walked along the road toward St. Mary’s. The sky was pale and gray, and the bare trees stood quietly on both sides of the road like they were waiting for spring.

While we walked, Sister began explaining today’s meditation about Jesus at the Court of Herod. She said that when Jesus was brought before Herod, the king asked Him many questions because he hoped to see a miracle. But Jesus did not answer him at all. Sister said Jesus could see that Herod’s heart was not sincere. He only wanted to satisfy his curiosity.

The road stretched ahead of us and everything was very quiet except for the sound of our boots on the wet gravel. Sister Mary Claire said that sometimes Jesus speaks to people many times through their conscience or through the advice of others, but if they keep ignoring Him, their hearts can grow hard. That is why Jesus remained silent before Herod.

Mini stopped for a moment and looked back at us as if she wanted to make sure we were still following her.

When we arrived at Church, Father LeRoy spoke about the same meditation in his homily. He said that when Herod mocked Jesus and dressed Him in a white garment, Jesus accepted the humiliation with patience. Father said that our pride often makes it hard to accept correction or even small embarrassments, but these little sufferings can help make our souls stronger if we offer them to God.

On the walk home the road looked even quieter than before. The gray sky and the bare trees made everything feel still, and I kept thinking about Jesus standing silently before Herod while people laughed at Him. The whole world must have seemed very cold and lonely then, yet He accepted it all for love of us.

Tonight before bed I said a small prayer.

Dear Jesus,

please help me listen when You speak to my heart.
Do not let me grow proud or stubborn.
Teach me to accept little humiliations quietly just as You bore mockery with patience before Herod.

Let me always follow Your voice.

Amen.

Love,

Kathy.

Source:  The Circling Year

The Lady from Heaven

Dear Diary,

Tonight Sister Mary Claire made the bedroom feel like a little secret chapel. We stretched the old patchwork quilt between two chairs and the bed and made a small tent, just big enough for the two of us and Mini. We piled pillows all around and brought a lamp inside so it glowed softly on the quilt pieces.

Mini curled right up beside us as if she knew something special was happening.

Sister Mary Claire had been reading to me about the children at Fatima. The story grew very quiet and serious, and even Mini seemed to listen.

She read how Lucy, Jacinta, and Francis were out in the fields when suddenly a brilliant flash of lightning appeared in the sky, though there were no clouds at all. Thinking a storm might be coming, they began to gather their sheep and walk home. But right in the middle of the field another bright flash appeared, even stronger than the first.

Sister Mary Claire paused when she read that part, and I could almost imagine the children standing there, not knowing what was happening.

Then she read how the children were passing near a small oak tree when suddenly a wonderful light surrounded them. When they opened their eyes they saw a beautiful young Lady standing above the tree. She was dressed in the purest white and light seemed to shine all around her. A veil edged with golden thread covered her head and fell all the way to her feet.

The children were so amazed and frightened they almost ran away, but the Lady made a gentle motion with her hands and spoke in such a kind voice that they stayed.

Lucy asked, “Where are you from, Madam?”

The Lady answered, “I am from Heaven.”

When Sister Mary Claire read those words she looked up at me and smiled a little, and we both sat very still for a moment.

The Lady told them to return on the thirteenth day of each month for six months, and that in October she would tell them who she was and what she wished.

Lucy asked if they would go to Heaven, and the Lady said yes. But when Lucy asked about Francis, the Lady said he would go to Heaven too, but first he must pray many rosaries.

Then the Lady asked them something very important. She asked if they were willing to offer sacrifices to God and to accept sufferings for the conversion of sinners and to make reparation for offenses against the Immaculate Heart of Mary.

Sister Mary Claire said that was a very brave thing to ask of children. But Lucy answered right away, “Yes, we are willing.”

The Lady smiled at them and said they would have much to suffer, but the grace of God would always help them.

When Sister Mary Claire read the part where the Lady opened her hands and a beautiful light poured into their souls, it made me feel very quiet inside. The children fell to their knees and cried out:

“O Most Holy Trinity, I adore Thee!

My God, my God, I love Thee!”

Sister Mary Claire said that when God gives light to a soul, it helps a person see things clearly and love Him more.

The Lady asked them one more thing before she left. She asked them to pray the rosary every day for peace in the world and for the conversion of sinners.

Then the children watched as she rose into the light of the sun and disappeared.

For a little while after Sister Mary Claire finished reading, we both just sat quietly in the tent. The lamp made the quilt glow softly and Mini rested her chin on my knee.

Sister Mary Claire said that Our Lady often asks for simple things — prayer, sacrifice, and the rosary — but those simple things can help many souls.

Before we climbed out of the tent we knelt together on the pillows and said a little prayer.

Dear Blessed Mother,

Lady from Heaven, help us remember to pray the rosary each day just as you asked the children at Fatima.

Teach us to love God more, to offer little sacrifices with joy, and to help bring peace to the world.

Keep us close to your Immaculate Heart and guide us safely to Heaven one day.

Amen.

Love,

Kathy ✍️

Source:  My Prayer Calendar. Scroll down to The Story of Fatima

Our King of Truth

Dear Diary,

This evening, after the chores were finished and the house had grown quiet, Sister Mary Claire and I finally sat down together to read the meditation for Wednesday. We had meant to read it earlier, but the day slipped along the way farm days often do. The lamps were glowing softly and Mini curled up right beside us on the rug.

The meditation told about Jesus standing before Pilate. Pilate asked Him if He was the King of the Jews, and Jesus answered that His kingdom was not of this world. Sister Mary Claire read those words slowly and then closed the book for a moment so we could think about them.

She explained that Jesus truly is a King, but His kingdom is not like the kingdoms of this earth. It is made of people who follow His truth and live by His teachings. She said His kingdom is built from humility, patience, love, and mercy, not power or riches.

Then Sister Mary Claire said something that made me think very hard. She said that sometimes the world becomes very confused about what is true. She said that lies can be repeated over and over again until people begin to believe them. If we are not careful, she said, we might even begin to mix up truth with untruth without realizing it.

“But truth does not change,” she told me. “It belongs to God.”

She explained that Pilate stood right in front of the Truth Himself and still could not recognize Him. Pilate was thinking like the world thinks—about power and politics and earthly kingdoms—so he could not see the deeper truth standing before him.

Sister Mary Claire said that is why Jesus said He came into the world to give testimony to the truth. His words, His life, and even His suffering all showed what real truth looks like.

She said the Church helps guide us so we do not get lost when the world becomes noisy with so many different voices. If we stay close to Jesus and listen to Him, then we will not be easily confused.

Mini gave a long sleepy sigh and stretched out beside us, resting her chin on her paws as if she understood everything perfectly.

Before going to bed we knelt together and said a little prayer.

Dear Jesus, our true King,

You came into the world to show us the truth.
Help us to listen to Your voice when so many other voices try to speak louder.

Keep our hearts humble and faithful, so we may always follow what is true.
Let Your kingdom live quietly inside us until the day we see You face to face.

Amen.

Love,

Kathy

The Story Spreads

Dear Diary,

This evening Sister Mary Claire and I sat by the fireplace while the fire burned softly. Mini was curled up on the rug, resting her head on her paws. I was reading aloud from my book Our Lady of Lourdes.

Tonight I read how Bernadette returned home after seeing the mysterious Lady and had to tell her parents she must return to the Grotto for fifteen days. Soon the story spread everywhere. It was market day in Lourdes, and by evening people across the valleys were talking about the visions.

Crowds began gathering at the Grotto. At first there were about a hundred people, then hundreds more, and soon thousands.

But the strange thing was that the people saw almost nothing.

They only saw a poor little girl kneeling and praying.

Sister Mary Claire said that sometimes the greatest things God does are hidden. Bernadette could see the Lady, but most people only saw her faith.

Many people believed, but others laughed and said Bernadette must be imagining things. The learned men used big words and tried to explain it as an illness.

Yet when people spoke with Bernadette, they saw how simp truthful she was.

What touched me most was that Bernadette was only a little girl, and yet she quietly kept returning to the Grotto to pray.

That seemed the most beautiful thing of all.

After I finished reading, we sat quietly watching the fire for a while. I thought about Bernadette and about praying with a simple heart.

Before bed we said our prayer.

Evening Prayer

Dear Blessed Mother of Lourdes, please give me a simple and faithful heart like Bernadette’s. Help me to believe and to pray with love.

Watch over Sister Mary Claire and our dear little Mini tonight.

Amen.

Love,

Kathy

The Morning Jesus Was Taken Away

Dear Diary,

This morning Robert picked us up for Mass and we all sat together in the front pew—Sister Mary Claire, Robert, Mini, and me. Mini behaved very nicely in church and tucked herself down quietly beside us like she understood we were listening to something important.

Father LeRoy spoke in his homily about the meditation for today, which told about the morning when the council of the Jews delivered Jesus to the Roman governor. Father explained that after the terrible night when Jesus was mocked and mistreated, the priests did not rest long. Even before daylight they gathered again because they were determined to see Jesus condemned.

Father said it is surprising how much energy people can spend when they are doing something wrong. Those men lost sleep and hurried through the early morning just to carry out their hatred toward Jesus. Then Father looked out at us and said sometimes we can be the opposite—we grow tired or slow when it comes to doing something good, even something small that God asks of us.

That made me sit up a little straighter in the pew.

Then Father spoke about something even more beautiful. He said that Jesus Himself was waiting for the morning too. But not for the same reason as His enemies. Jesus knew everything that was about to happen, and He willingly accepted it because He wanted to save us.

Father said Jesus greeted the coming dawn like someone welcoming the most important day of His life—the day He would give His life so the whole world could live.

When Father said that, I tried to imagine Jesus sitting quietly through the long night, praying for the very people who were planning His death. It made my heart feel very soft and sad at the same time.

Sister Mary Claire whispered after Mass that Jesus loved us so much that He longed for the day of His sacrifice, because it meant our salvation. Robert said it makes a person want to try a little harder to do small sacrifices during Lent.

I think I understand that a little now. If Jesus was willing to give everything for us, maybe I can give Him small things too—like being patient, helping with chores right away, or saying a prayer when it is easier not to.

When we came home Mini ran through the yard like she had saved up all her energy during Mass. But I kept thinking about Jesus waiting for that dawn long ago, ready to give His whole life because He loved us.

Evening Prayer

Dear Jesus,

Thank You for loving us so much that You were willing to suffer and give Your life for us. Help me not to be lazy in doing good. Teach me to make small sacrifices with love so I can show You how grateful I am.

Amen.

Love,

Kathy

An Afternoon With at My Little Grotto

Dear Diary,

This afternoon warmed up to 49 degrees, which felt almost like spring after so many cold days. After lunch I tucked my Lourdes book under my arm and Mini stood by the door with her ears straight out in airplane mode, ready to go. We walked down to the cave by Indian Creek, which I like to think of as my little grotto, like the grotto in Lourdes.

Inside it was quiet and peaceful. I lit a few small sticks in the stove Robert installed last fall, and Mini curled up beside me while I read.

The chapter was called “The Story Spreads Through Lourdes.” At first only a few children knew about Bernadette seeing the beautiful Lady, but soon the whole town was talking. Some people believed her right away because she was such a simple and honest girl. Others wondered if it could really be true. But the story kept spreading anyway.

It reminded me of the still water behind Shaggycoat’s dam on Indian Creek. When a little stone drops in, the ripples spread farther and farther across the quiet water. That is how the story of the Lady spread through Lourdes—touching more and more people.

Soon the stove burned down to glowing embers and the light at the cave entrance turned soft and golden. It felt like a very good way to spend the afternoon of the Third Sunday of Lent.

Evening Prayer

Dear Jesus,

Please help me to have a simple and trusting heart like Bernadette when I think about Our Lady and the beautiful things of Heaven.

Amen.

Love,

Kathy

Peter's Tears

Dear Diary,

The snow was almost gone from the fields, and for a few days it had felt like spring was trying to come. But today the wind came roaring across the prairie and seemed to whip up new weather all by itself. Little flurries of snow skittered across the ground, and the cold made it feel like the middle of winter again. It was 30 degrees, but with the strong wind it felt more like 15, so it was surely a day to stay close to home.

Since Sunday would be Church day, today was quiet and plain. We did only the chicken chores and nothing extra. I bundled up and hurried out with Sister Mary Claire while Mini came along beside us, low to the ground and quick about it, as if she knew very well this was no day for fooling around. The hens were glad to see us, and I gathered the eggs as fast as I could before we all hurried back in out of the cold.

Once we were warm again, Sister Mary Claire read the meditation about Peter’s repentance. It told how Peter had denied Our Lord three times, and then the cock crowed, just as Jesus had said it would. When Peter remembered, and when the truth of what he had done came over him, he went out and wept bitterly. Sister explained it so gently. She said Peter truly did love Jesus, but he had been weak and frightened. His tears were not just tears of shame, but tears of love too, because he knew what it meant to have failed Someone so good.

That stayed with me all day. I suppose it is easy to think I would have been brave if I had been there, but Sister said that we all have little chances to be like Peter when we are afraid, or when we fail to stand close to Jesus as we should. Still, she said the beautiful thing is that Peter did not stay away. He was sorry, and his sorrow brought him back. Sister said repentance is not the end of love at all, but often where love begins to grow stronger and truer.

Mini slept by the stove most of the afternoon with her chin on her paws while the wind kept rattling at the house. It felt good to be safe indoors, and yet the meditation made everything feel solemn. I kept thinking how kind Our Lord must be, to look on Peter after such a denial and still draw him back with love. It makes me think that no matter how poor and weak I am, Jesus still wants me to come back to Him with a sorry heart and not be afraid.

Tomorrow we will go to Church, and I think I will remember Peter when I kneel down in the pew. I will remember that tears of true sorrow are precious to Jesus, and that He can make even a weak heart faithful again.

Evening Prayer

Dear Jesus,

when I am weak or frightened, please do not let me wander far from You.
Give me a sorry heart like Peter’s, and help me always come back quickly to Your love.
Make me faithful in little things, and keep Sister, Mini, and me close to You tonight.

Amen.

Love,

Kathy

When Peter Forgot His Courage

March 6, 1956

Dear Diary,

This morning Robert picked us up as usual and right on time at the mailbox on his way to St. Mary’s. Sister Mary Claire and I climbed into the pickup and Mini came along with us, settling down happily as we started down the gravel road toward town. The sky looked pale and quiet, and it felt like one of those mornings when everyone is thinking quietly before the day really begins.

Sister had today’s meditation from The Circling Year with her, and she began reading it aloud as we rode. The meditation was about Peter denying Jesus on the night of His Passion. I have always liked Peter because he was brave and strong and loved Jesus very much. But the meditation reminded us that when the moment came and people started asking Peter if he knew Jesus, he became afraid.

The first time someone asked him, he said he did not know Jesus. Then again someone recognized him, and again Peter denied it. Finally a third time he said he did not know the Lord at all. The meditation explained that Peter was frightened of what might happen to him. Even though he loved Jesus, fear made him forget his courage.

Sister said this shows how weak even the best people can be when they are afraid. Peter had promised Jesus he would never leave Him, but when the danger came he forgot his promise.

At Mass Father LeRoy spoke about this during his homily. He said Peter’s denial is sad, but it is also comforting in a way, because it reminds us that even the saints had moments of weakness. Father said Peter loved Jesus deeply, but he trusted too much in his own strength. When fear came, he discovered that he could fall just like anyone else.

Father also told us the most important part of the story is what happened next. When Peter heard the rooster crow, he remembered Jesus’ words and realized what he had done. The Gospel says Peter went away and wept bitterly. Father said those tears were not just sadness—they were the beginning of Peter’s repentance and his return to Jesus.

As Father spoke, I imagined Peter standing in the cold night outside the courtyard, hearing the rooster crow and suddenly remembering everything Jesus had told him. It must have hurt his heart terribly to know he had denied his dear Master.

On the ride home Sister said the meditation is meant to make us think about our own courage. Sometimes we may not deny Jesus with words like Peter did, but we can forget Him in smaller ways—when we are embarrassed to speak about our faith or when we do not stand up for what is right.

Robert said the important thing is to remember what Peter did after his fall. He did not run away forever. He turned back to Jesus with a sorry heart.

That made me feel hopeful. If Peter could become a great saint after such a moment, then Jesus must be very patient and merciful with all of us.

Tonight the farm is quiet, and Mini is already asleep beside the bed. I keep thinking about Peter and his tears, and how Jesus must have forgiven him.

Evening Prayer

Dear Jesus,

Please give me courage so that I never turn away from You when I am afraid.

And if I ever forget You like Peter did,

please help me remember You again and come back with a sorry heart.

Amen.

Love,

Kathy

Spring Feels Close

Dear Diary,

This morning it was 40 degrees, which almost felt balmy after so many cold days. When Sister Mary Claire and I walked down to the mailbox, the air didn’t bite our cheeks quite so hard, and the snow along the ditch looked softer, like it might start melting soon. Robert picked us up as usual and right on time, and Mini came along with us, hopping right into the pickup as if she knew it was a church morning.

The ride to St. Mary’s felt especially nice because the sun was coming up pale and gold over the fields. Sister Mary Claire had been reading the meditation from The Circling Year earlier, so we were already thinking about it before Mass even began.

Father LeRoy spoke about it in his homily. He said the meditation showed how our Lord, during His Passion, allowed Himself to be treated so humbly and quietly, even though He is the King of Heaven. Father said Jesus did not fight back or complain when He was mocked or pushed around, but instead accepted everything out of love for us.

Father told us that sometimes we want things our way right away, or we get upset when something small goes wrong, but Jesus shows us another way. He said that when we bear little troubles patiently and offer them to God, we are walking just a tiny bit in the same path that Jesus walked during His suffering.

While Father was speaking, something happened that almost made Sister Mary Claire laugh. Mini was under the pew and had fallen asleep. All of a sudden she let out a little snore — not very loud, but just enough that Sister Mary Claire noticed. She looked down quickly, and then Father LeRoy glanced over for just a second. I tried very hard to keep a straight face, but it was difficult because Mini looked so peaceful curled up there like a little loaf of bread.

After Mass Robert brought us home. The morning sun was brighter by then, and the farm fields looked wide and quiet the way they do in early March. It really did feel like spring might be thinking about coming.

Tonight the house is warm and still. Mini is sleeping again, though this time she is not snoring quite so much.

Evening Prayer

Dear Jesus,

Thank You for the warmer morning and for bringing us safely to Mass.

Help me to remember how quietly and patiently You suffered for us.
Teach me to bear little troubles with love, just as You did.
Please bless Sister Mary Claire, Robert, and dear little Mini.

And keep our hearts always close to You.

Love,

Kathy 

Source:  The Circling Year

The Gentle Face of Jesus

Dear Diary, 

This morning it was 34 degrees, and Robert picked us up as usual and right on time for early Mass. Sister Mary Claire kept Mini tucked close for the ride, and we all watched the fields slide by, gray with cold, as we headed toward St. Mary’s.

On the way to church we spoke about today’s meditation from The Circling Year. It was about the moment when Our Lord stood before the high priest and one of the servants struck Him across the face. I tried to imagine it — Jesus standing there with His hands bound, His eyes lowered, and everyone around Him shouting and accusing Him. The servant struck Him even though Jesus had done nothing wrong. Yet Our Lord did not become angry or shout back. Instead He answered calmly and gently, saying, “Why strikest thou Me?”

During his homily Father LeRoy explained that this shows us the wonderful meekness of Jesus. He told us that if anyone had the right to defend Himself, it was Our Lord, the King of Heaven. But Jesus chose patience instead. Father said sometimes we complain when we are corrected or when someone says something unkind to us, yet Jesus endured insults and suffering without anger. He said the meditation teaches us how strong real gentleness can be.

Father also spoke about the part where false witnesses accused Jesus. Our Lord kept silent through many of the accusations. Father LeRoy said this silence should make us think about how quickly we try to defend ourselves. Sometimes, he said, the holiest thing is to stay quiet and trust God, and to let our hearts stay with Jesus instead of trying to win every little argument.

On the ride home Robert said Lent is a time to keep our eyes on Jesus, especially when He was treated unfairly and still loved people anyway. Sister Mary Claire nodded and held her Rosary quietly, and Mini rested her chin on the seat between us as if she was listening carefully to every word.

Tonight the house is quiet, and I am thinking about the Sacred Face of Jesus that was struck for love of us.

Evening Prayer

Dear Jesus,

When You were struck, You did not strike back.
When You were accused, You did not shout.
You were gentle and steady, even when it hurt.
Please make my heart more like Yours.

Help me to be quiet inside when I want to fuss, and to stay close to You when things are hard.

Bless Sister Mary Claire, Robert, and dear little Mini, and keep our home safe through the night.

Amen.

Love,

Kathy

Sources: The Circling Year

Butter Churn Blessings

Dear Diary,

This morning felt soft and early, like the world was still rubbing its eyes. Robert picked us up as usual and right on time at the mailbox, and we all squeezed in together—Sister Mary Claire, Mini, and me—ready for early Mass. Mini sat properly between us like she always does, part of our little trio.

At Mass, Father LeRoy brought today’s meditation from The Circling Year right into his homily. He explained how Our Lord calls us not just to believe in Him quietly, but to follow Him bravely—especially when it costs us something. He said that Lent is like walking behind Jesus on a narrow road. Sometimes we want to step off to the side where it’s easier, but love keeps us close behind Him. Father’s voice grew gentle when he reminded us that even small sacrifices, offered with love, are beautiful to God. I thought about that very hard.

After Mass, Robert surprised us by turning toward town instead of home. We ended up at the Breakfast Club in Littlemore! All four cousins were there—Hayden, Caleb, Sasha, and Max—busy as could be. The place smelled like coffee and warm syrup.

Caleb himself served the waffles, tall and golden on our plates. And then he said something that made my eyes widen. He churned the butter himself! He even imported the churn all the way from England. Imagine that—an English butter churn in Littlemore! He brought out a pat of butter shaped neatly from his own butter form, and when it melted over the hot waffles it tasted fresh and rich and almost sweet. Wow. It was such a treat.

When we were leaving, Caleb handed us a whole stick of his butter to take home. We thanked him kindly, but next time we will not accept it without paying. Good butter and good work deserve it. Still, what a generous heart.

The ride home was peaceful. The sun was climbing higher, and the roads looked brighter than they had in the early morning. Mini rested her chin on Sister’s lap, perfectly content. I kept thinking about Father LeRoy’s words—that love follows close behind Jesus, even on narrow roads. Maybe today that narrow road is simply being grateful and trying to do better tomorrow.

Tonight, the butter is in our icebox, and my heart feels warm.

Evening Prayer

Dear Jesus,

Help me to follow close behind You, even when the road feels narrow or hard.
Bless Father LeRoy, and bless Robert for always bringing us safely to Church.
Bless the four cousins and especially Caleb for his kindness and his butter churn from England.

Teach me to give generously and to receive gratefully.
And may everything I do tomorrow be done for love of You.

Amen.

Love,

Kathy

Light in My Little Grotto

Dear Diary,

All morning I could hardly settle myself because Chapter Nine was waiting for me. I wanted to read it in the cave — in my own little grotto — where the words about Lourdes seem to breathe better somehow.

It was still a chilly 27 degrees, so I bundled up in my coat and wool cap and filled a small sack with sticks. As I walked the worn path toward the cave, I imagined I was like little Bernadette along the Gave River, gathering bits of wood before she ever knew Heaven would touch that rocky place. The cold made it feel almost real — as if something important might happen.

Inside, the cave was quiet and gray with winter light. I knelt and set the sticks into the small stove Robert installed last fall. I’m so thankful for that stove. Soon the fire caught, and a soft crackling began, warming the stones and my stiff fingers. Mini curled close beside it, her little red-and-white body tucked neatly, ears alert but peaceful.

Then I opened Chapter Nine.

This was the chapter where the Lady appears in such splendor. The book described her standing above the grotto rock, clothed in white that seemed to shine without hurting the eyes, a blue girdle at her waist, and a rosary of white beads falling from her hands. The light around her was gentle but glorious — not like sunlight, but something purer. I could almost see it flickering against the stone walls of my own cave.

When the book said Bernadette fell to her knees in awe, I felt my own heart kneel. I looked up at the rough stone ceiling of our cave and imagined that same holy brightness filling it. For a moment, the firelight danced along the rocks, and I thought how easily Heaven could choose a poor, simple place to show its beauty.

Mini lifted her head and looked at me as if she sensed the quiet had grown deeper.

I thought about how Our Lady chose a little girl, not a queen or scholar. She chose a cold grotto, not a palace. That makes me feel that perhaps she does not mind my small cave along Indian Creek. Perhaps she even smiles at it.

When the light outside began to fade, I closed the book slowly. I pressed it to my chest and thanked Our Lady for coming to Bernadette — and for letting me read about it here, beside a little stove in Iowa.

Tonight I prayed this:

Evening Prayer to Our Lady of Lourdes

Dear Blessed Mother of Lourdes,

You who stood in light above the rocky grotto, please stand quietly in my heart tonight.
Make my soul simple like Bernadette’s, bright with faith even in cold and ordinary places.
Help me to pray the Rosary as you held it in your gentle hands.

Watch over Mini, Sister, and our little farm, and keep us close to your Son, Jesus.

Amen.

Love,

Kathy 💙

Begin Reading Our Lady of Lourdes Today. . .

Second Sunday of Lent – A Door Opening

 
Dear Diary,

Today felt like a true Sunday—quiet, bright, and set apart. After Mass, we came home and kept the day gentle. The chores were only the necessary ones, and then Sister Mary Claire let the house settle into that peaceful Sunday stillness. Mini stayed close, following us from room to room like she always does, as if she knew it was the Lord’s Day too.

Later, we turned on the radio and listened to Bishop Robert Barron. I love how he explains things, because he makes big words feel plain and true, like you can hold them in your hand. He talked about how, on this Second Sunday of Lent, the first reading about Abraham and the Gospel story of the Transfiguration fit together like two parts of one lesson.

Bishop Barron said God made us to go out from ourselves—not to stay curled up in our own wants and worries, but to step out and see how wide and beautiful God’s world really is. He said Abraham had to leave what was familiar and safe and go where God led him, even without knowing the whole plan. And then, up on the mountain, Peter, James, and John saw Jesus shining in glory for a moment—almost like God let them peek at what is truly real and bright, so they would have courage for what was coming.

Bishop Barron explained that the more a person clutches onto their own way—wanting to stay comfortable, wanting to be in charge, wanting things to go just how they like—the smaller their heart gets. But when you let go, when you stop grabbing and hanging on to everything, you actually become more alive. He said that is part of what salvation is—Jesus saving us by pulling us out of our cramped little self and leading us into something bigger.

I thought about that for a long time. I know what it feels like when I’m holding on too tight—when I’m stubborn, or wanting my own way, or feeling sorry for myself. It makes my insides feel crowded. But when I say, “Alright, Jesus, I’ll trust You,” it feels like stepping into fresh air.

Bishop Barron even said that salvation has something to do with adventure—not adventure like running away, but adventure like following God when you don’t know the whole road yet. Like Abraham. Like the Apostles coming down the mountain after seeing Jesus shining, and still having to walk into hard days with trust.

Tonight I want to try letting go of my little “me-first” ways, even if it’s only in small things. Maybe that is how you start becoming more alive.

Evening Prayer

Dear Jesus,

Help me to come out of myself and follow You with a brave heart.
When I want to cling to my own way, teach me to let go.
Let Your light shine in my life the way it shone on the mountain.
Bless Sister Mary Claire, and bless dear little Mini.
Keep us faithful through Lent and close to You always.

Amen.

Love,

Kathy