Dear Diary

Daily Readings 

 

 

February 1, 1955

Dear Diary,

Today was such a snowy day! But inside, it was all warm, and I got to ask Sister Mary Claire about something I've wondered for a while. "Who is the Holy Spirit?" I asked her, peeking over my glasses. She always knows so much and explains things in a way that makes sense to me.

Sister told me that the Holy Spirit is like the wind - we can't see it, but we can feel it. It's like the snow swirling in a dance outside, making the world look like a snow globe. She said it's a whisper in our hearts that helps us tell right from wrong and the warm feeling we get when we do good things.

She explained that the Holy Spirit is a special gift from God to make sure we're never alone. It's like a friend who's always with us, guiding us to be our best selves, even when we don't notice it.

It made me think of our cozy farmhouse, standing strong against the blizzard. It's our shelter from the storm, just like the Holy Spirit is a shelter for our souls.

Tonight, as I snuggle under my blankets, the wind is howling like a pack of wild wolves. But I'm not scared because I feel safe and sound, knowing I have a heavenly friend watching over me, just like Sister Mary Claire said. 

Goodnight, Diary.

Kathy

Dear Diary

February 29, 1955

Dear Diary,

Wow, what a week! The radio says we're in the middle of the blizzard of the century. Sister Mary Clare and I are still at Living History Farm, and guess what? We're snowed in! But don't worry, we're safe and sound. The snow has stopped falling so much, but brrr, it's gotten super cold, like double digits below zero!

I heard on the radio that some farmers are having a really tough time because their cows can't find food. The snow covered everything, even the empty cornfields. And the snow plows? They're having a hard time too. They can barely move around, and some are just stuck.

I spent my day reading some really old stories in the farmhouse library. It's such a cool place! Sister and I are also keeping up with our Daily Readings from her Roman Missal. It's nice to have that routine.

You won't believe this, but we can't even see our old Chevy anymore. A huge snowdrift covered it up! But inside the farmhouse, we're lucky. We have fresh eggs, milk, bread, and butter. And Farmer Tom's old red barn is still standing strong out there.

Stay warm! Kathy

Dear Diary

 

Wednesday, February 28th,

Dear Diary,

I'm writing to you by the soft glow of a lamp, nestled cozily under a mound of blankets with Sister Mary Clare and Mini. Despite the blizzard's fierce winds outside, our room feels like a sanctuary, adorned with beautiful pictures and a magnificent crucifix watching over us.

It's our third day at the Living History Farm, and the snow hasn't stopped swirling like powdered sugar. The world outside is wrapped in a thick white quilt. Farmer Tom even tied a rope from the kitchen door to the barn door just to find his way! Can you imagine, Diary? It's so cold that the water in the glass on our windowsill froze overnight.

We've been busy helping Mrs. Judy in the kitchen and following along with the Daily Reading from Sister Mary Clare's Holy Roman Missal. It feels like we're stepping back in time, living out stories from the past. The farmer and his wife are so kind; they've given us their most treasured room to sleep in.

Despite the storm raging outside, it's warm and peaceful in here. The heat gently rises from a lone floor register, but it's our snug haven under the feather blanket that really keeps the chill away. We're safe and warm, a little island in the midst of a frozen sea.

At bedtime, instead of reading from her usual holy book, Sister shared stories from an old book about Iowa's history. It was like traveling back in time without leaving our bed! Then, we wrapped up the day with our prayers, feeling all safe and sound.

Time to snuggle down and dream of sunshine, Diary. Good night!

Hugs and prayers, Kathy

Dear Diary

Dear Diary,

It's Tuesday, February 27, and WOW, we're still snowed in at Living History Farm! But honestly, I don't mind too much.

We couldn't go to Monday Morning Mass because of all the snow, but Sister did the Daily Readings with me right here. She read from her Roman Daily Missal with that soft voice of hers that makes every story feel like a warm blanket. I'm really  thankful for that. It's like we had our own little church in the living room. Thank you, God, for Sister Mary Claire's kind heart and her way of making the words dance in the air.

The people at the farm are angels without wings, I'm pretty sure. They've let us stay and have treated us like we're family. They've got this kindness that's as big as the snowdrifts outside! And Mrs. Judy makes the best chocolate chip cookies, like a cookie from heaven. She said that she just follows the recipe on the back of the package of chocolate chips but takes the cookies out of the oven two minutes early. I call them 'baked just right' cookies.

Mini's having a blast, acting like a little snow bunny hopping here and there. She even helped (sort of) when Sister and I fed the animals. I think the cows are getting used to her – they don't even blink when she woofs a "Hello" in her doggie way.

I miss our little trailer at St. Boniface, but I'm really grateful for the warm house, the hot meals, and the laughter that's keeping the cold away. Even if Mini did steal my sock again and now I can't find it. Little Stinker!

Please, God, thank you for keeping us safe, for Farmer Tom and Judy's kindness, and for Sister's prayers that remind us you're always with us, even when the snow keeps us from church.

Alright, Diary, it's time for me to get under the covers. Sister says sleep is God's way of letting us charge up for a new day, and I'm ready to be full battery tomorrow!

Goodnight!

Love, Kathy

Dear Diary

Dear Diary,

Today was an adventure, like a page out of a Laura Ingalls Wilder book! After Sister Mary Claire and I packed our bags at the inn, we carefully packed the Chevy too. It was still snowing, so we had to brush off a fluffy mountain of snow before we could even see the car! Mini barked happily, jumping around in the snow like it was the best thing ever.

We set out on the road, driving slowly because of the snow. It was like being in a snow globe that someone kept shaking. But Sister Mary Claire is a super good driver, and she says the angels are watching over us. I think Mini believes that too because she eventually fell asleep, all curled up in the back seat.

After driving for what felt like a hundred hours (Sister says it was only a few), we arrived at the Living History Farm near Des Moines. It's this really cool place that looks like the farms from a long time ago. We said a big 'Thank You' prayer when we got there because we were so grateful to arrive safely.

But guess what? The snow decided it wasn't done with us yet. It started falling even harder, turning everything into a white wonderland. The nice people at the farm said the roads were too bad to travel any further and invited us to stay. So, we're spending the night here!

Sister Mary Claire and I got cozy in a room that looks like it belongs to another century, and she read Today's Reading from her Daily Missal. I love hearing Sister read; her voice is so calm and makes me feel like everything's going to be okay.

Mini's snoozing by the fire now, and I'm about to join her in dreamland. I'm tucked in bed, feeling like a pioneer girl on a snowy night, safe and warm with my own little family.

Goodnight, Diary.

Sleepy smiles, Kathy

Sunday Sermon

 
Friends, we come now to the Second Sunday of Lent, and we’re on both dangerous and very holy ground with the first reading from the twenty-second chapter of Genesis. The ancient Israelites referred to it as the “Akedah,” which means the “binding”: Abraham binds and is ready to sacrifice Isaac at God’s command. It’s hard to imagine another text in the Old Testament that has stirred up more puzzlement and opposition. I am with Søren Kierkegaard: if you don’t experience “fear and trembling” having read this text, you have not been paying attention. And it’s naming something of absolute centrality in the spiritual life.

Mass ReadingsReading 1 — Gn 22:1-2, 9a, 10-13, 15-18
Psalm — Ps 116:10, 15, 16-17, 18-19
Reading 2 — Rom 8:31b-34
Gospel — Mk 9:2-10

Dear Diary

Dear Diary, 

Guess what? Today felt like a real adventure, almost like I was in a book or something! Sister Mary Claire and I crossed the big Missouri River after we left Omaha. It’s the same river Lewis and Clark explored a super long time ago. It's so wide! I tried to imagine what it was like back then, with all the explorers and no bridges or anything.

We're staying in this little town called Missouri Valley now. It's got lots of trees and it's pretty quiet, not like home. Our motel room has funny old wallpaper, but I like it. It’s like being in a different time!

Mini, my Corgi, is here too. She's been with us for two whole years now, and she's part of our family. She's sitting right here on my suitcase, watching me write. She’s such a good listener.

Oh! And we went to St. Patrick's Church for Holy Mass. I heard something really neat from Today's Readings: "If God is for us who can be against us?" I keep thinking about that. It makes me feel brave. 

Can't wait to see what's next on our trip. Maybe more rivers and churches? Or maybe a snowball fight with Mini. 

Okay, I have to go to bed now, but I can’t wait for tomorrow. New things to see and learn, just like Lewis and Clark!

Goodnight, Diary!

Kathy

The Journey Begins

Today's Gospel Reading

In the heart of winter, the land lay bare and open, like a book whose pages were the endless fields of Iowa, each one a story of toil and hope. The sky, a dome of palest blue, stretched wide and unbroken above, save for the occasional crow that cut a solitary figure against the expanse.

A 1950 Chevy made its way along the road, a lone traveler in the vastness. Inside, Sister Mary Claire sat at the wheel, her hands steady and sure, a quiet strength in her young face that belied the softness of her habit. Beside her, Kathy, a slip of a girl with pigtails and brown-rimmed glasses, watched the world go by with wide, wondering eyes. Behind them, Minnie, a red and white corgi, sat with a regal air, her fluffy coat a stark contrast against the austere backdrop.

The car was a vessel of warmth in the chill of the day, carrying its passengers through a landscape that spoke of the earth's slumber. The fields, once green and vibrant, now lay fallow, covered in a blanket of snow that sparkled under the touch of the sun's weak rays. Old telephone posts marched alongside the road, their wires stretching from pole to pole like the strings of some giant, silent instrument.

As they drove, Sister Mary Claire spoke of faith and love, her voice a gentle cadence that filled the car with a sense of peace. Kathy listened, her young mind pondering the mysteries of which the nun spoke. And Mini, ever the faithful companion, rested with the whole backseat to herself, content with hearing the voices of her human friends.

It was a journey not just through the physical landscape but through the landscapes of their own hearts, each mile bringing them closer to understanding the quiet beauty of the world and their place within it. And as the Chevy continued on its path, the cold Iowa countryside bore witness to their passage, a testament to the enduring spirit of those who travel with hope and faith as their guides.

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Packed and Ready

Friday's Readings

 

As the first light of dawn broke over Omaha, the city was quiet, holding its breath as if in anticipation of the day's journey. Sister Mary Claire stood outside the old brick Fontenelle that had been their home, her face calm, reflecting a peace that surpassed all understanding. Beside her, Kathy clutched her suitcase—the one proudly bearing the 'NOTRE DAME' insignia—a symbol of dreams and aspirations yet to unfold.

Between them, Mini, her tongue lolling out in a pant that seemed to laugh at the cold, waited with a patience known only to dogs and the wise.

They were leaving Omaha, the place of quiet miracles and unspoken joys, embarking eastward on highways that were yet known only by numbers and not by the name it would carry into the future: Interstate 80.

Kathy looked up at Sister Mary Claire and whispered, "Do you think we'll see the works of the living God on our way?"

Sister Mary Claire smiled, recalling the Gospel they had read that morning, the words of Jesus to Simon Peter echoing in her heart, "Blessed are you, Simon son of Jonah. For flesh and blood has not revealed this to you, but my heavenly Father."

"Yes, Kathy. Just as Peter recognized Christ, we too shall see the hand of God in our travels. For He builds upon the rocks of our faith, and against such strength, not even the gates of the netherworld shall prevail."

With the suitcase and Minnie in tow, they stepped into their Chevy, the engine coming to life with a rumble that spoke of distances yet to cover. They were travelers, not just in the physical sense but also pilgrims of the spirit, seeking the keys to the Kingdom of Heaven in every mile they covered, in every person they met, in every challenge they faced.

And so, with the blessing of the Gospel in their hearts and the light of the early morning sun guiding their way, Sister Mary Claire, Kathy, and Mini set off. They drove through the waking city, through fields that stretched like oceans, through towns where steeples reached for the heavens as if in prayer.

They didn't know exactly what adventures awaited them as they traveled toward Des Moines, or the many stops along the way. But they knew that whatever they bound in their journey of love and service on earth would be bound in heaven, and whatever they loosed in forgiveness and kindness would be loosed in heaven.

This was the beginning of a journey not just across the American landscape but into the depths of faith—a journey of learning that every goodbye was not an end but a herald of new beginnings, under the watchful gaze of the living God.

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Blizzard in Omaha

In the heart of Omaha, Nebraska as the church bells echoed their final call, Kathy and Sister Mary Claire, accompanied by their sprightly dog Mini, stepped out into the world anew, their hearts warm with the day's homily. The sky, a quilt of grey, seemed to hold its breath as they embarked on their walk back to the hotel. The Gospel that day spoke of signs and resurrections, of faith weathering the storm, much like Jonah in the belly of the whale.

As they made their way, the whispers of a blizzard began to swirl around them, the wind howling like the chorus of an ancient hymn. Sister Mary Claire, her habit fluttering like a banner of faith, held onto Kathy, her rosary beads a subtle clink amidst the growing roar. Mini, the little corgi, marched valiantly, her coat a patch of warmth against the snow's encroaching chill.

The world turned white, the streets of Omaha disappearing beneath a shroud of snow, as if the city itself was being called to slumber. But the trio, bound by an unspoken covenant, persevered. They thought of the morning's reflection, how trials are but a testament to one's belief, and in each other's company, they found strength.

Eventually, as all storms do, it passed, leaving them at the doorstep of the Fontenelle hotel, a haven of hearth and home. Inside, they peeled off the layers of their adventure, the cold relinquishing its grip, replaced by the cozy embrace of warmth from the steam radiator. As they settled in, Mini curled at their feet, they shared reflections of the storm, of the resilience of faith, and of the unexpected beauty found within trials.

In the comfort of the Fontenelle, they ended their day, not with the weight of hardship, but with the lightness of having witnessed yet another sign, a testament, much like the resurrection, to the enduring spirit of hope. And there, in Omaha, they found not just shelter from the storm but a renewed affirmation of their journey together.

Today's Gospel Reading     

Morning Prayer

Evening Prayer

The Our Father

Sister Mary Claire, with her young friend Kathy, and the cheerful Corgi, Mini, made their way along the snow-covered streets of Omaha. The air was crisp and the city was quiet, save for the crunch of their steps and the occasional bark from Mini. They had just left the sanctuary of the church, hearts full from the Holy Mass and minds reflecting on the Gospel reading they had heard.

The words from the Gospel according to Matthew lingered with them: "In praying, do not babble like the pagans... Your Father knows what you need before you ask him." It was a message that encouraged simplicity and faith in divine providence, which Sister Mary Claire held close as they walked.

Kathy, bundled in her coat with bread in her pocket, remembered the part, "Give us this day our daily bread," and she thought of the bread as more than just a snack for their journey. It was a symbol of the providence they prayed for, a tangible reminder of the daily blessings they received and shared, even with Mini, who wagged her tail in appreciation.

As the Hotel Fontenelle came into view, they were silent in contemplation. Sister Mary Claire whispered a prayer of gratitude, Kathy squeezed Mini's furry side, and Mini looked up with bright eyes. They knew they were not alone on this walk; their faith was a warm presence, as comforting as the winter coats they wore and as certain as the path that led them home.

Today's Gospel Reading

Jesus said to his disciples:
“In praying, do not babble like the pagans,
who think that they will be heard because of their many words.
Do not be like them.
Your Father knows what you need before you ask him.

“This is how you are to pray:

Our Father who art in heaven,
hallowed be thy name,
thy Kingdom come,
thy will be done,
on earth as it is in heaven.
Give us this day our daily bread;
and forgive us our trespasses,
as we forgive those who trespass against us;
and lead us not into temptation,
but deliver us from evil.

“If you forgive men their transgressions,
your heavenly Father will forgive you.
But if you do not forgive men,
neither will your Father forgive your transgressions.”

Sixth Day of Lent

On a chilly Monday after the First Sunday of Lent, Sister Mary Clare and young Kathy found themselves walking through the snow-covered streets of Omaha. The city was quiet, and the air was filled with the promise of spiritual renewal that Lent brings.

"Sister, what does today's Gospel reading mean?" Kathy asked, her voice curious and eager for understanding.

Sister Mary Clare smiled, taking the opportunity to share the profound message from the Gospel of Matthew. "Today's reading is about the final judgment, Kathy. Jesus tells us that when He comes in glory, He will separate people like a shepherd separates sheep from goats. The sheep, who represent the righteous, will be rewarded, while the goats, who represent those who failed to show compassion, will face punishment."

Kathy listened intently as Sister Mary Clare continued. "Jesus emphasizes the importance of caring for those in need. When we feed the hungry, welcome strangers, clothe the naked, care for the sick, and visit those in prison, we are serving Jesus Himself."

As they walked, Kathy spotted a homeless man huddled under a blanket. Recalling the Gospel's message, she tugged at Sister Mary Clare's sleeve and asked, "Can we help him, Sister?"

Sister Mary Clare nodded, and together they approached the man, gently inviting him to join them at a nearby diner. They ordered him a warm meal and kept him company, listening to his stories and offering words of comfort. In that moment, Kathy understood the Gospel's call to action. It wasn't just about listening to Jesus's words; it was about living them.

Back on their path, Kathy looked up at Sister Mary Clare with a newfound sense of purpose. Sister Mary Clare hugged Kathy, proud of her compassionate heart. "Remember, every act of kindness, no matter how small, is a step towards eternal life."

As they continued their walk through the wintry streets of Omaha, both Sister Mary Clare and Kathy felt a deep connection to the Gospel's message, knowing that their Lenten journey was not just about personal reflection, but about reaching out and making a difference in the lives of others.

First Sunday of Lent

As the train chugged away from Sioux City, Sister Mary Claire glanced at Little Kathy, her joyful eyes magnifying the beauty of the world through her round glasses. Mini, the corgi, sat loyally by their side, occasionally puffing misty breaths onto the window, curious about the wintry scene outside.

The train's rhythmic clatter seemed to whisper stories, and Sister Mary Claire took it as a cue to revisit the day's Gospel reading with Kathy. "The Spirit led Jesus into the desert," she began, gently explaining the significance of faith and resilience. Kathy listened, enthralled, her mind weaving the desert sands with the snowflakes that danced outside.

As they spoke of Jesus' time in the wilderness, the barren countryside seemed to echo the desolation yet peace of the desert. Sister Mary Claire shared that, just like Jesus found strength in his trials, they too could find joy in every journey, no matter how stark or challenging the path seemed.

Mini, sensing the solemnity, settled her head onto Kathy's lap, offering comfort and warmth. She watched Kathy, as she pondered the message of repentance and belief, her heart alight with the understanding that the kingdom of God truly was at hand, within and all around them, even in the depths of winter's embrace.

The train carried them forward, not just toward Omaha, but toward a deeper kinship with each other, with creation, and with the divine mysteries they contemplated together. In the simplicity of their journey and the complexity of their reflections, they found an unspoken joy, and the world outside whispered back its snowy amen.

 

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Fourth Day of Lent

On a brisk winter day at St. Boniface Grade School, the wind whistled as it dusted the grounds with fresh snow. Inside the warmth of the classroom, Sister Mary Claire stood by the blackboard that boldly declared 'Jesus is Arrested', ready to impart a lesson of faith and friendship to young Kathy.

"Kathy," Sister Mary Claire started, her voice as calm as the falling snow, "let us imagine the Garden of Gethsemane, where Jesus spent his final free moments. It was a night that teaches us about loyalty and fear."

Kathy, her pigtails gently brushed by the heater's breath, turned her attention to Sister Mary Claire, her youthful eyes wide with anticipation.

"The Apostles, Jesus' closest friends, were with him in the garden. He asked only for their company, their presence, but even that proved too much when fear gripped their hearts," Sister Mary Claire said, her hand lightly touching the open book that spoke of the disciples’ terror.

"The cold we feel outside," she continued, "is much like the chill of isolation Jesus felt when those he loved fled. The betrayal wasn't just in Judas' kiss but in the abandonment by those he called friends."

Kathy's expression grew solemn, sensing the gravity of the moment Sister Mary Claire described.

"But remember, Kathy, while his friends failed him in that hour, Jesus never failed to love them. He forgave their weakness, as we must forgive those who may let us down," Sister Mary Claire explained, her voice imbued with kindness.

"The snow outside will melt, the seasons will change, and our fears will pass, just as the Apostles’ fear did. They returned to be the founders of the Church, stronger for their trials."

Kathy nodded slowly, understanding that from mistakes and fear can come strength and redemption.

Sister Mary Claire smiled gently, content that the lesson had found its way into Kathy's heart. She knew that the stories of faith could turn the coldest winter into a hopeful lesson about the resilience of the human spirit.

Third Day of Lent

In the cozy warmth of the classroom, with the comforting clank of the old radiators and the serene view of St. Boniface Church through the frost-kissed window, Sister Mary Claire turned the pages of the Lenten meditation book. “Kathy,” she said softly, “today we reflect on sacrifice and submission to God's will.”

Kathy, sitting in her desk, looked up from the same line in her book, “I shall not drink it.” She was puzzled by the words.

“Those words, Kathy,” Sister Mary Claire explained, “are a reminder of Christ’s prayer in the Garden of Gethsemane. On the eve of His crucifixion, He faced great sorrow. He prayed to God, asking if it were possible to avoid the suffering that awaited Him. Yet, He chose to accept God’s will, to drink from the cup of suffering if it was required.”

Kathy listened, her young mind trying to grasp the gravity of such a choice.

“'I shall not drink it' is not about refusing the cup, but a profound acceptance. It’s Jesus showing us the courage to embrace our challenges, trusting in God's plan, as He did. This Lent, we try to understand that level of trust and faith,” continued Sister Mary Claire, her eyes kind.

Kathy nodded, her eyes fixed on the crucifix above the blackboard. The story took root in her heart, where the warmth of faith outlasted even the steady heat from the radiators.

Second Day of Lent

On the second day of Lent, in the warmth of St. Boniface Catholic Grade School, while the cold Iowa wind whispered its chills against the windowpanes, Sister Mary Claire, turned to her class, a gentle smile softening her features. The classroom was cozy despite the winter's bite, with radiators clanking and hissing like a chorus of old-time steamboats, setting a backdrop to the day's lesson.

"Gather 'round, children," Sister Claire began, her voice harmonizing with the classroom's symphony of warmth. "Today, we reflect on a powerful moment, a testament to faith and the divine presence of Jesus." Kathy, with her youthful curiosity, leaned forward, her name embellished on her sweater as if declaring her readiness to dive into the story.

"On a night like this, crisp and still, Jesus was in the Garden of Gethsemane. His heart was heavy, knowing what was to come. When the soldiers approached to arrest him, Jesus stepped forward and asked whom they sought. They said, 'Jesus of Nazareth.' And He replied, 'I am He.'" Sister Claire pointed to the blackboard where the words echoed the profound moment. "At those words, such was the power of His presence that the soldiers fell to the ground."

She paced slowly by the clanking radiators, continuing the story. "It wasn't just the cold that made them fall, children, but the realization that they stood before the Son of God. Even in the face of danger, Jesus was calm and filled with dignity."

Outside, the world was cold, but inside, the story of faith and the warmth of the room enveloped the children. Sister Claire's tale wasn't just about history; it was about the warmth of faith that holds us during our coldest times, much like the radiators that kept the chill at bay.

Ash Wednesday

Ash Wednesday!

In the cozy warmth of St. Boniface Grade School's classroom, with its walls lined by the reassuring presence of religious icons and the slightly off-beat clanking of the radiators, Sister Mary Claire walked to the blackboard and with a squeak from her chalk wrote   "Today is Ash Wednesday." Outside, the silhouette of St. Boniface Catholic Church stood stark against the Iowa sky, a constant reminder of faith and community for the children within.

"Children," Sister Mary Claire began, her voice gentle yet clear over the hum of the radiator, "today marks the beginning of Lent, a very special time for us to reflect and prepare for Easter."

Kathy, with her hair tied in neat ribbons, looked up attentively, her eyes wide with the earnest desire to understand. "Sister, what should we do for Lent?" she asked.

Sister Mary Claire smiled, turning to the Crucifix hanging near the  blackboard "We pray, we fast, and we give alms. It's a time to grow closer to God, to understand the sacrifice Jesus made for us." She handed Kathy a small purple booklet. "This will help guide you through the next forty days."

The clock on the wall ticked steadily, marking the passage of the sacred season's start. In this moment, in the heart of the year1955, Sister Mary Claire was not just imparting a lesson on liturgical observance but nurturing a seed of faith that would grow with Kathy, rooted in the rich soil of tradition and community at St. Boniface.

ASH WEDNESDAY

In the heart of Sioux City, a unique bond had formed between Sister Mary Claire and young Kathy Dennison, a second grader with aspirations as high as the church steeple. After an unforeseen turn of events, Kathy had come to stay with Sister Mary Claire in her cozy Airstream trailer, nestled on the outskirts of the St. Boniface parish grounds.

The Airstream was a humble abode, filled with the warmth of Sister Mary Claire's spirit and the echoes of prayerful meditations. It was here that Kathy’s admiration for the sister’s way of life blossomed. Each morning, she would watch Sister Mary Claire drape her habit with reverence, her young mind already dreaming of the day she might do the same.

Their shared mornings began with whispered prayers and were often spent tending to the small garden beside the trailer, where Kathy learned the virtues of patience and care. She saw in Sister Mary Claire a model of the devotion she yearned to emulate, understanding even at the tender age of seven that a life of service was a life of profound purpose.

As Ash Wednesday arrived, marking it on their foreheads was not just a symbol of faith, but also a silent promise between them. For Kathy, the ash cross was a tentative step toward a future she envisioned, one following in the footsteps of her mentor. And for Sister Mary Claire, it was an affirmation of her role in nurturing a young girl's dream under the vast Iowa sky, in the sanctuary of their Airstream, where faith was both a journey and a destination.

The Lenten Journey

On February 13th, as Sister Mary Claire embarked on her journey of spiritual preparation for Lent, she reflected on the forty days that Jesus spent fasting in the desert, enduring temptations and suffering before ultimately giving His life for all of humanity.

In her imagined sanctuary along Indian Creek, Sister Mary Claire knelt in prayer, meditating on the parallels between her own Lenten journey and the trials faced by Jesus in the wilderness. She imagined the scorching desert sun beating down upon Him, the hunger gnawing at His stomach, and the whispers of temptation echoing in His ears.

As she immersed herself in contemplation, Sister Mary Claire felt a profound sense of solidarity with Jesus, recognizing that her own sacrifices and struggles during Lent were a pale reflection of His ultimate sacrifice on the cross. She imagined the agony He endured, the weight of the world's sins pressing down upon Him as He hung suspended between heaven and earth.

Yet, even in the midst of His suffering, Sister Mary Claire envisioned the unwavering strength and resilience of Jesus, His unwavering faithfulness to the will of God, and His boundless love for humanity. His example served as a beacon of hope and inspiration, guiding her through the trials and tribulations of her own Lenten journey.

As Ash Wednesday dawned and the Lenten season began in earnest, Sister Mary Claire carried the memory of Jesus' forty days in the desert with her, drawing strength from His example as she embraced the disciplines of prayer, fasting, and almsgiving. And as Easter Sunday approached, she rejoiced in the knowledge that just as Jesus emerged victorious from the wilderness, so too would she emerge from the Lenten season renewed and transformed, her faith deepened and her spirit uplifted by the promise of redemption and resurrection.

Sunday Sermon

 

In the serene ambiance of their little sanctuary on wheels, Sister Claire delicately adjusted the dial of the transistor radio, the static giving way to the clear, engaging voice of Bishop Robert Barron. His Sunday sermons were a staple in their lives, providing spiritual nourishment and enlightenment.

Kathy, her youthful eyes sparkling behind brown-rimmed glasses, leaned in closer, her gaze fixed on Sister Claire. The corgi puppy, sensing the shift in attention, tilted its head curiously.

"Listen closely, Kathy," Sister Claire encouraged, as Bishop Barron began to weave the day's gospel into a narrative that spoke to the heart. His sermon delved into the story of a kind man named Jesus, who walked the earth with love as his compass, performing miracles that touched both flesh and spirit.

As Bishop Barron recounted the encounter of Jesus with the leprous man, Sister Claire's soft voice interjected, painting the scene for Kathy in vivid strokes. "Imagine a man shunned by everyone, Kathy. His illness wasn't just physical but carried a loneliness that ached deeper than any wound."

Kathy's expression turned thoughtful, her innocence grappling with the gravity of the man's isolation. "But Jesus didn't turn away, did he, Sister?" she asked, already knowing the answer.

"No, Kathy," Sister Claire replied, her eyes mirroring the compassion of the Savior they revered. "Jesus showed us that love knows no bounds. He reached out and healed the man, not just from his illness but from the solitude that had become his world. He restored his place among his people."

As Bishop Barron's voice rose and fell with the rhythm of his message, Kathy's understanding deepened. The lesson was clear: love and acceptance hold the power to transform and heal, to bind the fractures in our society and in our hearts.

Sister Claire smiled, watching Kathy absorb the story, her young mind connecting the dots between ancient text and the world that spun around them. She knew that these were the moments that shaped the soul, and in the cozy interior of the Airstream, with the voice of Bishop Barron echoing softly, faith was being passed on, as timeless as the stories it told.

Evening Prayer

Feast of Our Lady of Lourdes

 In the quiet hours of a brisk February morning, Sister Mary Claire and young Kathy embarked on a journey of faith and wonder. They were bound for Lourdes, France, to celebrate the Feast of Our Lady of Lourdes, a day marking the first of the Virgin Mary's apparitions to Saint Bernadette Soubirous in 1858. The event held a special place in Sister Mary Claire's heart, and she yearned to share its significance with Kathy.

Their journey began aboard a train, rumbling gently through the European countryside. Kathy, with her dark brown hair neatly tied in ponytails and her curious eyes shielded by brown-rimmed glasses, pressed her face against the cold window, marveling at the passing landscapes. Beside her, Sister Mary Claire, clad in her grey habit, offered silent prayers, her rosary beads slipping softly between her fingers.

As the train neared Lourdes, the atmosphere within the carriage became palpable with anticipation. Pilgrims from all corners of the world, each carrying their hopes and prayers, filled the spaces around them. Kathy, sensing the gravity of the occasion, turned to Sister Mary Claire, her expression a mix of excitement and reverence.

"Sister, why do people come to Lourdes?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

Sister Mary Claire smiled, her eyes reflecting the kindness that Kathy had grown to love. "They come for healing, Kathy. Not just of the body, but of the heart and soul. Our Lady of Lourdes, she is a beacon of hope, a reminder of Mary's unconditional love for us all."

As they stepped off the train and into the town of Lourdes, the sight of the Sanctuary of Our Lady of Lourdes, with its imposing basilica and the peaceful Grotto of Massabielle, took Kathy's breath away. The air was filled with hymns and prayers, a harmonious blend that seemed to echo directly from heaven.

The Feast Day was a spectacle of faith like Kathy had never seen. Processions, the Eucharistic Adoration, and the Blessing of the Sick were events that unfolded with a solemn beauty. But it was the Candlelight Rosary Procession that truly captivated her heart. As night fell, thousands of flickering lights illuminated the sanctuary, each candle a testament to faith and prayer. Holding her own candle, Kathy felt a profound sense of belonging, her voice joining the chorus of Ave Marias.

Sister Mary Claire watched Kathy, seeing in her a budding faith that promised to grow stronger with each passing day. This trip, she realized, was more than a pilgrimage; it was a passage, a sharing of spiritual heritage.

On their return journey, the train car seemed to carry a different air, one of peace and renewed purpose. Kathy, her head resting against Sister Mary Claire's shoulder, whispered, "Thank you, Sister, for bringing me to Lourdes."

Sister Mary Claire hugged Kathy closer, whispering back, "Thank you, Kathy, for reminding me of the joy of faith."

And as the train continued its journey, weaving through the countryside under the starlit sky, Sister Mary Claire and Kathy knew that their hearts had been touched by the grace of Our Lady of Lourdes, a grace that would guide them through all the days of their lives.

Corgis Cookies and Lourdes

In the snug embrace of Sister Mary Claire's little trailer, the soft hum of shared silence filled the space—a sanctuary on wheels adorned with the quiet symbols of faith. Little Kathy, her eyes as wide as the rim of her glasses, nestled beside the sister, their fingers entwined in comfort and companionship.

Sister Mary Claire, whose habit was as much a part of her as the smile that graced her lips, turned to Kathy, the warmth in her eyes kindling the spark of curiosity in the young girl.

"Kathy," she began, her voice a gentle whisper that seemed to dance with the light filtering through the small trailer's windows, "I want to tell you about a journey I made to a very special place called Lourdes."

Kathy shifted, her gaze locked on Sister Mary Claire, as a plate of chocolate chip cookies lay forgotten between them, and the corgi puppy, now dozing, let out a contented sigh.

"It was not long ago that I walked the paths where Saint Bernadette once walked, where the Virgin Mary appeared to her," Sister Mary Claire continued. "The grotto was bathed in a light that seemed to come from Heaven itself, and the waters, oh the waters, Kathy—they were as clear as the purest spring and as healing as the gentlest touch."

Kathy's imagination swirled with visions of the sacred grotto, of pilgrims with hopeful eyes and prayerful hearts, each one seeking something that only such a holy place could offer.

"And there, by the grotto, I prayed for all of us," Sister Mary Claire said, squeezing Kathy's hand a little tighter. "For you, for me, for our friends and families, that we may find the same peace in our hearts that I found by those healing waters."

Kathy, moved by the story, leaned her head against Sister Mary Claire's shoulder, feeling in her heart the echo of the Lourdes miracles. The trailer might have been small, but in that moment, it held the vastness of faith and the quiet hope of the holy city.

As the afternoon waned into a soft evening, the story of Lourdes continued to unfurl, a sacred tale shared between a nun and a little girl, in a trailer home that held more love and faith within its walls than any cathedral could aspire to. And Kathy knew, with the certainty of the innocent and the faithful, that the story would stay with her, a beacon of the Lourdes light, forever guiding her way.

 

House of Loreto

In the quiet of St. Boniface Grade School, within the small, sunlit classroom, Sister Mary Claire sat beside a single desk where Kathy Dennison, her only student, was perched eagerly, her eyes reflecting a world of curiosity. The classroom, usually echoing with the voices of many children, today was filled with a tranquil hush as Sister Mary Claite prepared to share a story close to her heart.

"Kathy," Sister Mary Claire began, her voice a gentle whisper that seemed to dance with the dust motes in the air, "I want to tell you about a house unlike any other, a home that held a family graced by God."

Kathy listened intently as Sister Mary Claire wove the tale of the Holy House of Nazareth, where the Angel Gabriel had come to Mary. She spoke of how this simple dwelling, made of earth and wood, had been the cradle of the Holy Family's love.

"But there came a time," Sister Mary Claire continued, "when the land was fraught with danger, and those who loved the Holy House feared for its safety."

Kathy's eyes widened as she learned of the prayers offered up by the faithful, asking for a miracle to protect the sacred home. And then, Sister Mary Claire told of the night when angels descended, their hands lifting the house from its foundations as gently as a mother lifts her child.

"The angels carried it over hills and seas, all the way to a small town in Italy named Loreto. They placed it there so that all who wished could visit and remember the love that dwelt within its walls."

"Why just me, Sister?" Kathy asked softly, her mind alive with images of flying houses and angelic processions.

Sister Mary Claire smiled, reaching out to hold Kathy's hand. "Because, my dear, every soul's journey to faith is unique, and today, this journey is yours. And just as that house was lovingly carried to safety, you are lovingly held in the heart of the Church."

Kathy nodded, a sense of belonging wrapping around her like a warm blanket.

"And when you say the Litany of Loreto, remember," Sister Mary Claire concluded, "you are walking through the door of that very house, joining all those before you in a lineage of faith."

As the bell tolled the end of the day, Kathy left the classroom, not just as a lone student, but as a young girl carrying within her the story of a house and the angels that carried it across the world.

Love Your Mother

In the heart of Sioux City, Iowa, at St. Boniface Grade School, the year was 1955. The world outside was changing rapidly, but within the walls of Sister Mary Claire's second-grade classroom, time moved to the rhythm of prayers and lessons learned from well-thumbed textbooks.

It was here, in this haven of learning and faith, that young Kathy Dennison sat, her gaze often drifting to the image of the Blessed Virgin Mary that stood proudly on Sister Mary Claire’s podium. The words "Love your mother" inscribed beneath it seemed to echo through the room, stirring thoughts and feelings in the young girl’s heart.

One cold February day, Sister Mary Claire noticed Kathy’s contemplative stares and took it as an opportunity to impart a valuable lesson. She walked over to Kathy’s wooden desk, the heels of her sensible shoes clicking softly against the linoleum floor.

“Kathy,” she said with a gentle tone, “I see you looking at our Holy Mother Mary quite a bit. Is there something on your mind, dear?”

Kathy looked up, her pigtails swinging slightly. “Yes, Sister. The sign says to ‘Love your mother.’ I was thinking of my mom and how much I love her.”

With an understanding nod, Sister Mary Claire responded, “That love you feel for your mother is a precious gift, Kathy. And our Blessed Virgin Mary, she is like a mother to us all. She cares for us, watches over us, and guides us to her son, Jesus.”

“But how can I show Mary that I love her?” Kathy inquired, her young mind eager to understand.

Sister Mary Claire knelt beside Kathy, bringing herself to the young girl’s level. “You can love Mary by imitating her goodness. Be kind to your classmates, listen to your parents, and say your prayers with a sincere heart. Mary was the epitome of grace and love. When we follow her example, we show her love.”

Kathy, with the earnestness of a second-grader’s faith, asked, “And Mary, does she love me too?”

“Without a doubt,” Sister Mary Claire assured her. “Mary’s heart is full of love for all her children. She is always with us, especially when we need her most. Remember, when you honor Mary, you are learning to love as Jesus loves us.”

Inspired by Sister Mary Claire’s words, Kathy found a new sense of connection to the Blessed Virgin. She started to spend a few quiet moments each day gazing at Mary’s image, talking to her in her heart, feeling the comfort of her presence.

And as the seasons turned at St. Boniface Grade School, the lessons of love and faith taught by Sister Mary Claire took root deeply in Kathy's life. With a newfound devotion to Mary, Kathy grew in kindness and virtue, her love for her mother and the Blessed Virgin intertwining like the threads of a beautifully woven tapestry.

Around Town

Sister Mary Clare stood beneath the sprawling limbs of the ancient Council Oak in Riverside Park in North Sioux City, where the Big Sioux River meets the mighty Missouri. As she gazed upon the tree, her thoughts wandered to the story of Jesus and the True Vine. She imagined the tree's deep roots as a symbol of our connection to Christ, the trunk as our faith, and the branches reaching out like the teachings of the church.

She remembered the tale of how Lewis and Clark had once held council under this very tree, and how it stood as a witness to unity and peace between different worlds. The leaves rustled above her, whispering stories of the past — of the Apostles and martyrs who, like this tree, stood firm in faith through the seasons of history.

Sister Mary Clare thought about how each leaf could represent a soul nourished by the sap of the True Vine, Jesus Himself. Just as the Council Oak was a place of meeting, so too is Christ a meeting place for all, a source of strength and salvation. She imagined the countless prayers and hopes that had been offered under the oak's watchful presence, each one a fervent wish for unity and grace.

As the sun dipped lower in the sky, casting long shadows across the park, Sister Mary Clare sat in silent contemplation. She felt a profound connection to the Divine, to the generations that had come before her, and to the eternal dance of creation. With a peaceful heart, she whispered a prayer of gratitude for the enduring legacy of the Council Oak, a living testament to the enduring power of faith and fellowship in the world.

To Sioux City

As the sun dipped below the horizon, painting the Iowa sky in shades of orange and pink, Sister Mary Claire navigated her car along the winding gravel road. The Airstream trailer hitched to the back swayed gently, a silent testament to her nomadic calling. Sioux City, Iowa, was her current destination, but only a temporary stop in her life as a traveling nun.

Sister Mary Claire had embraced her unique mission with open arms - to be a traveler, a messenger of faith, moving from place to place, sharing the teachings of Jesus Christ. Her journey to Sioux City was more than just a physical travel; it was part of her spiritual odyssey.

As she drove through the heartland of America, surrounded by the lush Iowa cornfields, Sister Mary Claire reflected on her first lesson for the community in Sioux City. It was to be about the love of Jesus for those who feed the world and the hungry. In these fields and farms, she saw the embodiment of this message – hardworking souls tending to the earth, nourishing both body and spirit.

But Sister Mary Claire’s stay in Sioux City would be brief. As a traveling nun, her calling was to keep moving, to spread the word in as many places as she could reach. This transience, however, didn't dampen her spirit; it fueled it. With every new place, she brought her lessons, her experiences, and her unwavering faith.

In Sioux City, as she met with the community and shared her insights, she extended an invitation that went beyond the walls of the classroom. “Travel with me,” she would say, not just in the literal sense, but in a journey of faith and understanding. She encouraged her students to open their hearts to the lessons of Christ, to see His love in the toil of the farmers, and to carry that love with them wherever they went.

As night fell over Sioux City, and the first stars began to twinkle in the sky, Sister Mary Claire settled in for the evening. Her thoughts were already drifting to her next destination, but she knew that each place she visited left an imprint on her heart, just as she hoped to leave a trace of inspiration and love in the lives of those she met.

Her journey was not just about teaching; it was about connecting, sharing, and inviting others to join in the spiritual voyage. Sister Mary Claire, the traveling nun, was not just passing through; she was touching lives, one lesson, one smile, one heart at a time.