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| A Quiet Morning by Lake LaVerne www.camplittlemore.blogspot.com |
I woke up in Ames this morning and lay still for a moment, remembering where we were. We were safe, Father’s car was out of the mud, and nobody had to go anywhere in a hurry.
I kept picturing the county tow truck pulling Father’s Cadillac from that muddy field driveway. I remembered the cable drawing tight and all of us watching, hardly daring to breathe until the car finally moved. I don’t think I have ever been so pleased to see tires on a proper road.
Yet there were things about the farmhouse I was sorry to leave. I remembered the comforting heat from the wood stove and how pleasant the house had felt after we had been cold and worried. Down in the storm cellar, the shelves held all those jars of food, each carefully labeled. Someone had spent many summer hours preparing them.
I wondered about the farmer and his wife who had left it all for California. Did she miss her kitchen? Did he think about his fields? I made the Sign of the Cross beneath the bedcovers and asked God to keep them safe and give them a happy future.
After breakfast, Father LeRoy suggested a gentle outing to see Iowa State College and Lake LaVerne.
“A little walking will do us good,” he said.
“On something firmer than a field driveway,” Robert added.
Father laughed. “That is my preference, too.”
The campus was a lovely place to recover from an adventure. Students in wool coats and sweaters passed us with books tucked under their arms. I tried to imagine being old enough to know my way among all those buildings. The tall Campanile rose above the trees, and when its bells sounded, we stopped to listen.
At Lake LaVerne, the water caught the pale sunshine. We watched the swans glide past, looking perfectly unconcerned about the weather or anyone’s travel plans. Mini stood very straight beside me, ears forward, until Sister Mary Claire reminded her that we were visitors and should behave accordingly.
By late morning, the sunshine had warmed a sheltered grassy spot beside the lake. Father spread out our blanket, and we settled down for Reading Club with our coats still buttoned. Our Fatima book had come through the adventure with us.
I read the summary of the September apparition. Thousands of people had gathered to pray, bringing their worries about husbands, children, and others they loved. The account described a light moving through the sky and white petals falling and disappearing before they reached the ground. Lucy, Francis, and Jacinta saw Our Lady, who asked them to continue praying the rosary for peace and promised to return in October.
Then we read about the children’s exhaustion. So many strangers wanted to question them that they scarcely had a moment to themselves.
“They were only children,” I said. “I think I would have wanted to hide.”
“They needed quiet, too,” Sister said. “Remember how they went back to the place where the angel had appeared, whenever they could.”
Robert looked across the lake. “Like having somewhere to catch your breath.”
I thought our little patch of grass was doing that for us.
Jacinta’s vision of hungry people made me remember the cellar shelves.
“All those jars at the farmhouse,” I said. “I keep thinking about how much work went into them—and how wonderful they would look to someone with nothing to eat.”
Father nodded. “Remember that feeling when you have an opportunity to share.”
The next part brought us to October thirteenth. People waited through cold rain, and the ground became a sea of mud. Lucy’s parents went with her despite their fear of what the crowd might do if the promised miracle did not happen.
After our own muddy adventure, it was easier to imagine wet shoes, chilled hands, and the longing for somewhere warm. But those people stayed and prayed.
“Lucy must have been glad to have her mother and father beside her,” I said.
“I expect their presence meant a great deal,” Father answered.
When Our Lady appeared, she identified herself as Our Lady of the Rosary. She asked the people to amend their lives and turn away from sin. Then the rain stopped, the clouds parted, and Lucy called for everyone to look at the sun.
That was where today’s reading ended.
Robert leaned forward. “We’re stopping there?”
“We’ll have something wonderful to open the book to next time,” Sister said.
Mini had fallen asleep against my shoe. She seemed quite willing to wait.
Before we packed up, I read a prayer for all of us:
Dear Lord, thank You for bringing us safely through the storm and for the people who helped us. Bless the farmer and his wife on their journey to California. Give food to those who are hungry, shelter to those who are cold, and courage to those who are afraid. Our Lady of the Rosary, help us to pray faithfully and to be generous with what we have. Watch over our little company as we continue our journey. Amen.
Tonight, I am thankful for dry shoes, a safe place to sleep, and the sound of bells across a peaceful campus. I hope the farmer and his wife have found something peaceful at the end of their road, too.
Love,
Kathy
