Dear Diary,
The day commenced in the tender glow of dawn, with Tom’s diligent hands having awakened the hearth. The tendrils of smoke from our chimney were like silent prayers ascending as Sister Mary Claire and I embarked on our sacred 10 mile trek to St. Ambrose Church in Des Moines.
The evening prior, we had delved into the Gospel, immersing ourselves in its narrative. Its words on mercy and understanding were fresh in our minds, offering solace and guidance as we navigated the crisp, snow-laden path to Mass.
Sister Mary Claire’s devotion shone brightly as she served the Eucharist. Her voice, steady and gentle, invoked "The Body of Christ," her every word a testament to the joy of her faith, as clear and pure as the morning rays filtering through the church’s stained glass.
Afterwards our visit to Maid Rite became a continuation of the morning's grace. There, Ginger, ever the embodiment of hospitality, welcomed us to our cherished booth, an unspoken witness to our morning of reflection and fellowship.
The day's end found us in the solace of our quaint 'Inner Court,' warmed by the fire that Tom had kindled. There, amidst the flickering shadows, our voices rose in prayer, intertwining with the wisdom of the Gospel we had shared the night before.
As twilight embraced the farm, we returned to the house, hearts full from the day's experiences. In the company of Tom and Judy, the simplicity of our evening routine was a gentle coda to the day’s symphony of small joys and spiritual nourishment.
Amen.
Till we meet the morrow’s light, Kathy
The evening prior, we had delved into the Gospel, immersing ourselves in its narrative. Its words on mercy and understanding were fresh in our minds, offering solace and guidance as we navigated the crisp, snow-laden path to Mass.
Sister Mary Claire’s devotion shone brightly as she served the Eucharist. Her voice, steady and gentle, invoked "The Body of Christ," her every word a testament to the joy of her faith, as clear and pure as the morning rays filtering through the church’s stained glass.
Afterwards our visit to Maid Rite became a continuation of the morning's grace. There, Ginger, ever the embodiment of hospitality, welcomed us to our cherished booth, an unspoken witness to our morning of reflection and fellowship.
The day's end found us in the solace of our quaint 'Inner Court,' warmed by the fire that Tom had kindled. There, amidst the flickering shadows, our voices rose in prayer, intertwining with the wisdom of the Gospel we had shared the night before.
As twilight embraced the farm, we returned to the house, hearts full from the day's experiences. In the company of Tom and Judy, the simplicity of our evening routine was a gentle coda to the day’s symphony of small joys and spiritual nourishment.
Amen.
Till we meet the morrow’s light, Kathy
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