Dear Diary

March 13, 1955

Dear Diary,

 

The icy grip of winter lingers in the air, making each day feel like a monotonous repetition of the one before. My mornings start with the comforting ritual of kindling the fire and basking in the warmth of Judy's cozy kitchen. Breakfast is a simple yet heartwarming affair – a bowl of old-fashioned, large-flake Quaker Oats, made just right with a dollop of butter, a sprinkle of brown sugar, and a splash of heavy whipping cream, if available. I must jot down this recipe in my diary; it's a small treasure I don't want to lose to forgetfulness.

Today, Sister Mary Claire and I took on a little project in the storage room of Tom's Machine Shed. We're sprucing up a small kitchenette there, where our quaint covered wagon abode spent the night under the cozy confines of the roof, basking in the embers of last night's fire in the wood stove. Tom, ever so thoughtful, had already stoked the fire this morning, anticipating our brief stay indoors.

As we settled under the canvas of our wagon, we turned to the Inner Court Prayer Book for our daily dose of spiritual nourishment. The prayer for today resonated deeply with me: 

 

"I have strayed as a sheep that is lost. Seek thy servant, O Lord, for I have not forgotten thy commandments. Show me thy ways, O Lord, and teach me thy paths. 

 

The aims of my youth and my ignorance, remember not, O Lord." It's a humble reminder of the constant guidance we seek from above.

The rest of the day was a whirlwind of activity, lending a hand to Tom and Judy with various chores around the farm. Yet, amidst the hustle, I found solace in stealing moments to retreat to our little tent in the wagon. There, in the quietude, I indulged in slow, deep breaths, seeking God within myself, a sanctuary from the world's clamor. As the day draws to a close, I whisper a soft goodnight to the world, cocooned in the warmth of our little haven, under the watchful gaze of the stars peeking through the cracks in the roof.

Til Tommorrow Diary,

Kathy