The Heart That Watches Over Me

June 28, 1956

Dear Diary

After our morning chores, Sister Mary Claire handed me something she had tucked in her missal. It was an old holy card—lace-edged and glowing with color. Mary stood among white blossoms, with her Immaculate Heart shining like fire and roses. I couldn’t take my eyes off her.

The card read:

“Sacro Cuore di Maria, siate la salvezza mia.”

Which Sister translated softly: “Immaculate Heart of Mary, be my salvation.”

It felt like she was speaking right to me—me! With eyes so kind they could melt winter. I held it to my chest and whispered, “I give you my heart too, Mary.”

She must have known I needed her today. Maybe that’s why Sister Mary Claire gave me this—so I could carry Mary’s heart close when mine feels small. I placed it in the center of my scrapbook and added a note underneath:

“I entrust myself to your pure heart, dear Mary. Please help me love Jesus the way you do.”

I want to go to the chapel tomorrow before breakfast, just for a moment, and place a small flower near the statue of Our Lady. Something white, like on the card.

Love,

Kathy

Feather From Heaven

June 27, 1956

Dear Diary,

Something beautiful happened on my way back from the grotto this morning. Mini and I were walking through the dappled light when a feather—long and soft like it belonged to an owl—came spinning down through the air. But it wasn’t just falling. It was twirling, like it had been caught in a silent song. The edges of it were blurred, not in a fuzzy way but like it was moving too gracefully for my eyes to keep up.

It swirled in slow loops, turning this way and that, as if it were being carried by something gentle and unseen. Mini didn’t bark. She just watched, ears perked, like she knew it was something special. And I did too.

The feather finally came to rest right near my shoe, soft as breath. I picked it up, and right then I remembered the letter Sister Mary Claire had left for me on my little desk. The red sticker seal said, “From His Heart to Mine.”

Her letter made me feel safe and loved—like Jesus Himself was drawing me close. She wrote, “He sends you reminders of His nearness, even when the wind carries them in silence.” I could hardly believe it—because that’s exactly what the feather felt like. A reminder from Heaven. A little swirl of love that found its way to me.

I slipped the feather inside her letter and pressed the page closed so it stays right where it belongs.

Love,

Kathy

P.S. I think even if someone else found that feather, they might not see the twirl. But I did.

My Hidden King

 

Dear Diary,

This morning, Sister Mary Claire read today’s meditation to me while I braided my pigtails. It was all about true glory hiding in the Blessed Sacrament—how Jesus is the greatest King even when He looks like just a little piece of bread. I kept thinking of how He chose a stable for His birth and now chooses our tiny tabernacle at St. Mary’s.

After chores, Mini trotted beside me down the path to the cave. The creek was gurgling loud after last night’s rain, and Shaggycoat popped his head out of the water with a happy splash—almost like he wanted to hear the meditation too! Inside the cave, everything felt hushed. I lit the stubby candle in front of the grotto statue of Our Lady and told Jesus I wanted Him to be the fire in my heart, just like Sister said. Mini flopped at my feet, ears perked, while Shaggycoat busied himself stacking little twigs near the stream. Even a beaver knows real work is done quietly!

On the walk home, I practiced letting Jesus be my hidden King. I thanked Him for plain things—the smell of fresh hay, the cool shade of the grotto, and the warm supper Sister made of soup and bread. No gold needed—just love.

Now it’s night. Mini is curled under my bed, already snoring soft squeaks, and I can almost hear Shaggycoat pattering around his dam. Before I blow out the lamp, here is my little prayer:

Evening Prayer

Dear Jesus, King of my heart, hide me in Your love like You hide in the Host.

Teach me to choose quiet ways instead of showing off.

Make my heart a tiny throne where You can rest.

Mary, help me say yes to whatever God wants tomorrow.

Amen.

Goodnight, Diary.

Love,

Kathy

Shaggycoat's Story

What I Believe

 

Dear Jesus,

This morning, I want to begin by telling You what I believe.

Please listen to my little prayers. I mean every word with all my heart.

O my God,

I believe in You with all my heart.

I believe that You are one God in three Persons—God the Father, God the Son, and God the Holy Spirit.

I believe You made Heaven and Earth, and that You lovingly watch over everything.

I believe You reward what is good and just, and that You are fair in all things.

I believe that Your only Son, Jesus Christ, became man out of love for us,

that He died for us on the Cross,

and that He is really and truly with us in the Blessed Sacrament.

I believe that my soul will live forever,

and that we all need Your grace to reach Heaven.

I believe everything the Holy Catholic Church teaches,

because You, dear God, are Truth itself.

Please help me to live and die in this faith.  Amen.

The Presence in The Cave

Tuesday, Third Week After Pertecost.

Dear Diary,

Tonight I fell asleep in the cave again. Sister Mary Claire said it was alright as long as I had the warm blanket and my pillow, and Mini came down with me too, curling up the way she always does.

I had a dream that didn’t feel like a dream at all. It was more like I was still in the cave, only something holy was there. On the wall—right above where I lay—I saw the Blessed Sacrament, glowing softly in the golden monstrance. The light was quiet and warm, like it was alive. I couldn’t see everything clearly, but I just knew Jesus was there. I didn’t have to see His face. Somehow my heart recognized Him.

Mini sat up in the dream too—still and alert like she noticed something before I did. She didn’t bark or move, just remained on high alert, as if she understood something sacred was happening.

When I woke up, it was still dark, but I felt a calm so deep, like I had been with Jesus in the quiet. Not the kind of quiet that makes you feel alone, but the kind that feels safe—like someone is watching over you.

Maybe that’s what Jesus does in the Blessed Sacrament. He comes so close, even when we’re asleep. He hides His face, but He doesn’t hide His love.

Love,

Kathy

Further Thoughts

Shaggycoat

Dear Diary

At morning Mass, Father LeRoy said something I don’t think I’ll forget for a long time. He told us that Jesus doesn’t just visit us on Sundays—He wants to abide in us. That means He wants to stay with us all the time, even when we’re doing chores or just sitting still. Father said that when Jesus really lives in us, we become more like Him—kinder, braver, and more full of love.

Later in the afternoon, Mini and I walked down to the cave with our little lunch and my scrapbook. The breeze was cool and the creek was rushing gently over the rocks, like it was humming a song just for us. I sat in my usual spot near the grotto and was about to open my book when I heard a rustle from down by the water. It was Shaggycoat!

He waddled up from Indian Creek, his paws all wet and muddy. I was so happy to see him. He came right up like he wanted to be part of everything. And wouldn’t you know—Mini scooted in from the other side, eyes wide, like she wasn’t going to let a beaver take over her spot!

Next thing I knew, they were both crowding onto my lap at once. Mini leaned into me like she needed protection, and Shaggycoat just plopped right down like he belonged there (which he kind of does). I couldn’t help but laugh out loud. I told them both there was room for each of them in my heart—and I think that’s just how the Holy Spirit is too. There’s always room for more love.

Evening Prayer:

Dear Jesus, thank You for coming to live in my heart. Help me make it a soft, warm place for You to stay. And thank You for little joys like muddy beavers and faithful corgis who don’t want to be left out. Abide in me always. Amen.

Love,

Kathy

A Special Story

June 22,

 

Dear Diary

Today Sister Mary Claire read to me about a special story Jesus told called the Parable of the Supper. It was in our meditation book for the second Sunday after Pentecost. It’s all about a man who made a big supper and invited lots of people—but when it was time to come, they all made excuses. One said he bought a field, another said he got married, and another bought oxen. The man who made the supper got upset and told his servant to go out into the streets and bring in the poor, the crippled, the blind, and the lame so his house would be full.

Sister said that supper is like Holy Communion, and Jesus is the one inviting us! He wants everyone to come to His table. But some people are too busy with the world and don’t even notice. That made me a little sad, but then Sister said that the ones who do come are the ones who know they really need Jesus—like people who are poor in spirit or weak and just trying their best. That made me feel better.

Sister reminded me that even if we feel small or not very holy, Jesus still wants us to come to Him with all our hearts. He fills up hungry souls with good things! We talked about how we’re sometimes blind (like when we forget to pray), or lame (when we don’t have courage), or poor (when we don’t feel very good inside)—but Jesus still wants us close.

I told Sister I wanted to be like the ones who came to the supper, not the ones who made excuses. I’m going to remember that next time I go to Holy Communion and say thank You to Jesus for letting me come, even if I feel a little poor or weak.

Spiritual bouquet: “Bring in the poor and the feeble and the blind and the lame.”

Love,

Kathy 🕊️