Dear Diary

 
Saturday, April 27th, 1955

Dear Diary,

Today was a canvas painted with the joy of the spirit and the vivid hues of community. Sister Mary Claire and I started our morning with the sun peeking through the curtains, beckoning us to Holy Mass at St. Ambrose in Des Moines. The message that graced us today was one of interconnectedness, of coinherence within our faith—how Jesus declares His unity with God, "Do you not believe that I am in the Father and the Father is in me?" This thought, endorsed by scholars like Charles Williams, friends of great minds such as C.S. Lewis and J.R.R. Tolkien, stayed with me, weaving through my prayers and thoughts like golden threads.

Mass was a symphony of voices, the congregation in harmony, the Gospel echoing through the arches. Father's homily danced in the light of the stained glass, speaking of our bond with the Divine, a bond that surpasses all earthly ties.

With hearts full, we delivered our basket of rhubarb to Ginger's Coffee Shop. Ginger, with hands as skilled as any artist's, crafted a breakfast pie that was nothing short of a masterpiece, the sausage and eggs nestled within a crust so flaky it seemed to whisper stories of the grains it once was.

In the afternoon, Sister Mary Claire, Mini, and I went to a grassy meadow above Living History Farm. Sister's laughter mingled with the wind, as Mini dashed through the tall grass, her happiness as palpable as the sunlight.

Our day came full circle when Judy, with the same intuition that connects all close hearts, served us a pot pie for dinner, echoing our morning feast, enriched with Tom's home raised chicken.

As night drapes its velvet over our farm, I end with a prayer:

Heavenly Artist of days, Grant us a tapestry of moments rich and rare, Mini's mirth in meadows green, a sister's care, With every shared meal, a reminder of Your ways.

Bless Sister Mary Clare, kindest soul, my guide, Together in Your grace, we ever shall abide. As we rest, wrapped in the comfort of Your tide, A grateful heart is mine, with Mini by my side.

Good night, Diary, until the morn's new light, so clear, Under patchwork quilts, we whisper prayers, hold dear The love and life You've granted us, so near.

Yours in reflection and thankfulness, Kathy

Dear Diary

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Dear Diary,

April 27th, 1955

The dawn greeted us with a golden embrace as we drove down the misty road toward Des Moines. Mary Claire's hands were steady on the wheel of our old pickup, the horizon blooming with the colors of new beginnings.

We arrived at St. Ambrose Cathedral as the first light caressed the stained glass, and the Mass filled our spirits with a tranquil harmony. Afterwards, we found warmth and welcome at Ginger's Coffee House, where we shared a small breakfast and tales with friends.

Returning to the farm brought the earth's embrace, where Tom and Judy awaited our hands for the day's toils. Together, we lost ourselves in the labor of love, tending to the garden's needs with laughter and shared strength.

Sister Mary Claire's rhubarb, plucked with care, rested in a basket—tomorrow it would find its way to Ginger, a small token of our abundant life.

As dusk settled, we retreated to the Inner Court prayer wagon, our sanctuary on wheels. There, enveloped in the quilted tapestry of our day's work and joys, we clasped hands and offered a prayer of thanksgiving:

"Lord of the twilight, as the stars ascend, We gather our hearts and whisper amen. To Sister Mary Claire, a beacon so bright, Our gratitude flows like the river at night.

In Your grand design, we find our place, Amid the rhubarb fields, we seek Your grace. Bless our dear Ginger, and our kin so dear, With every sunrise, Your love is clear.

Now as we rest, our souls take flight, Within dreams You cradle us through the night. Thankful we are, for a day so fair, Goodnight, sweet diary, in Your tender care."

With hearts full and eyes heavy, we bid this day farewell, cherishing the bond of sisterhood that sustains us. Goodnight, dear diary, until tomorrow's light.

With a thankful heart, Kathy

Dear Diary

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Dear Diary,

Thursday, April 25th, was a canvas of contemplation and simple joys. Our morning began with the Holy Mass at St. Ambrose in Des Moines, where the Ascension was the heart of the homily. We absorbed the profound message that heaven intersects with our daily lives, not distant, but close and guiding. “He took his seat at the right hand of God,” a statement of divine governance, resonated within me.

After Mass, our steps led us to Ginger's Coffee Shop, where serendipity smiled upon us. Ginger was there, and by good fortune, so was Howard, her husband. It was our lucky day to have coffee with them both—such an unexpectedly delightful encounter, sprinkling joy into our routine.

As twilight embraced the sky, we returned home to the warmth of the Inner Court. There, in the quietude, our prayers mingled with the day's reflections, seeking the guidance of our eternal sovereign. “Lord, rule over our hearts, let Your will direct our earthly journey as it does in heaven.”

As the night unfolds, we offer a prayer blending the day’s insights: “May the reign of Christ ascend in our actions, guiding us to a kingdom not made of stone, but of love and service.”

Goodnight, dear diary, until the morrow calls us anew.

 

Dear Diary

Learn More about these two Sisters Here

April 24, 1955

Dear Diary,

Today, Sister Mary Claire and I felt the spirit of the Apostles as we sat in the pews of St. Ambrose, contemplating how Jesus appeared to Thomas and the others, infusing their doubt with faith. The homily was a reminder that even in uncertainty, faith can flourish, a message that wrapped around us like a warm shawl.

This evening was special, too. We took our spirited Mini to play with other corgis at the dog park. She's learning to mingle, her little tail wagging a rhythm of joy. The laughter and barks were like music, a hymn to the simple pleasures that God grants His creatures.

As the day closed, Sister Mary Claire and I retreated to our Inner Court prayer wagon, a sanctuary on wheels where the outside world fades away, and the divine feels closer. Nestled under our patchwork quilts, we whispered an evening prayer, asking the Lord to wrap us in His grace:

"Dear Lord of Tender Mercies, As the night curtains the day, we, your humble servants, thank You for the gift of faith that dispels doubt, much like Your presence did for Thomas. In the warmth of our quilts, under Your watchful stars, we ask You to bless our rest, infuse our dreams with Your love, and keep our spirit entwined with Yours. Amen."

With these words, peace settled in our hearts, the same peace that Jesus offered His disciples, a peace that we carry through the night until we wake to Your new mercies. Goodnight, dear Diary, until we meet in the morning light.

Always, Kathy

 

Dear Diary

Dear Diary,

Tuesday, April 23, 1955

This morning was touched by divine light as Sister Mary Claire and I woke at dawn to attend Holy Mass at St. Ambrose Cathedral in Des Moines. The homily deeply moved me, revolving around the doubt of Thomas—a theme that mirrors the uncertainties often clouding my own heart. As the priest unfolded the scripture, I found myself silently praying, yearning for the strength to emulate those who love Him, Oh Highest Good, with all their hearts. In my prayer, I beseeched help to dispel the shadows of doubt, to embrace an unreserved surrender to divine providence, finding peace and happiness in faithful certainty.

The afternoon brought a delightful respite with Tom and Judy. Over a beautiful lunch that nourished both body and spirit, we shared laughs and light-hearted stories. Later, inspired by the morning's reflections, I retreated to my desk to pour my revived spirit into "Catholic Crusoe's Chapter 3."

As dusk fell, Sister Mary Claire and I retreated to the Inner Court—a sanctuary of our shared solace. There, enveloped by the soft glow of candlelight, we lifted our hearts in prayer. I whispered a humble petition for the night:

Heavenly Father, as we rest under Your watchful eyes, shelter us in Your peace. Help us carry today's lessons into our dreams, that even in sleep, our hearts may continue to seek Your truth and light. Amen.

Tucked in the warmth of our quilts, I feel the serene embrace of a day well-spent and a night promising peaceful slumber under His gaze.

Goodnight, dear diary.

Kathy

Click on Mini to see what happening on our island.

Sunday Sermon

Dear Diary,

This fourth Sunday of Easter was a day full of grace and reflection. Sister Mary Claire and I rose with the dawn and attended Holy Mass at St. Ambrose in Des Moines. Father’s sermon on the Good Shepherd was deeply moving, reminding us of the ever-present guidance and protection of our Lord. I donned my Easter dress, feeling the joy of the Resurrection anew, as Sister nodded in approval, saying it was fitting for such a blessed Sunday.

Returning home, we listened intently to Bishop Barron's sermon, which echoed the themes of care and watchfulness we’d heard at Mass. His words always have a way of illuminating the scripture, making it resonate within my heart.

The afternoon was spent in quiet labor, as I turned pages and penned thoughts, slowly reweaving the tale of 'Catholic Crusoe.' I am determined, diary, to complete another chapter soon—this story is a small testament of my faith journey, mirroring the isolation and eventual redemption we all seek.

As dusk approached, Sister and I shared in the prayers from the intercourt prayer book. The words, worn from use, still felt fresh and urgent, as if each prayer was a new conversation with the Divine.

Now, as I lay me down to sleep, I offer a simple prayer of gratitude:

Heavenly Father, as the stars take their watch, I thank You for this day of Sundays. For the wisdom imparted by Father and Bishop Barron, for the sanctuary of St. Ambrose, and the comfort of home. I am grateful for Sister Mary Claire's enduring presence, for Tom's steadfastness, for Judy's laughter, and for every moment of companionship and solitude that shapes my faith. Bless them, Lord, as they have blessed me. In the quiet of this night, I find peace, and for this, I am eternally thankful. Amen.

Goodnight, dear diary, until tomorrow’s light.

Kathy

 

Dear Diary

April 19th, 1955

Dear Diary,

Today's morning greeted Sister Mary Claire and me with a serene hush, as we attended early Mass at St. Ambrose in the heart of Des Moines. The church, a sanctuary of peace, was where we whispered our first prayers of the day. But the real surprise was yet to come. After Mass, Sister Mary Claire led me on a mysterious drive, her eyes gleaming with secrets she was eager to share.

As we arrived, I saw a quaint little cafe, its sign reading 'Ginger's Coffee,' a new blossom in our town's garden. Sister Mary Claire's surprise unfolded like a gift; our friend Ginger had spread her wings to open her very own business. The cafe was a tapestry of warmth, with scents of fresh coffee and cinnamon playfully dancing in the air. Ginger greeted us with her sunlit smile, and we knew this place was her dream woven into reality.

Breakfast was a melody of home-cooked flavors, but it was Ginger's specialty, the rhubarb pie, that had our hearts singing. Each bite was a sweet reminder of the labors in our garden and the joy of the harvest. This little slice of heaven, kissed with the essence of our own rhubarb, made the morning unforgettable.

As the day drew to a close, Sister Mary Claire and I retreated to our Inner Court trailer. The tranquility of the evening was the perfect canvas for our prayers. And here, dear diary, is where I record our prayer, a whisper into the twilight:

"Dearest Lord, in the quiet of this evening, we offer you our day, the joy of friendship, and the sweetness of community. May the seeds of kindness that have been sown today blossom into a garden of grace in our hearts and in the hearts of all we meet. Amen."

With these words, our day was gently cradled into the arms of night, ready to rest until the dawn of tomorrow's adventures.

Goodnight, dear diary.

Kathy