Dear Diary,
Today, Sister Mary Claire, Mini and I settled into the hushed stillness of the inner court. As a chill whispered through Iowa, heralding the return of winter's breath, Tom’s foresight in stacking firewood ensured our warmth.
Our hearts and minds turned to the pages of the Inner Court Prayer Book where we found solace in St. Catherine’s Canticle on the Passion. The depth of Sister Mary Claire's voice as she read the canticle enveloped us, the words a solemn echo of a distant yet ever-present past. The Canticle's gravity drew us into contemplation, its verses a mirror reflecting the light and shadow of our own lives.
The day waned into evening, and the comfort of the fire's glow became our sanctuary. In this sacred pause, we were reminded of the eternal warmth of faith that sustains us through the cold.
Today, Sister Mary Claire, Mini and I settled into the hushed stillness of the inner court. As a chill whispered through Iowa, heralding the return of winter's breath, Tom’s foresight in stacking firewood ensured our warmth.
Our hearts and minds turned to the pages of the Inner Court Prayer Book where we found solace in St. Catherine’s Canticle on the Passion. The depth of Sister Mary Claire's voice as she read the canticle enveloped us, the words a solemn echo of a distant yet ever-present past. The Canticle's gravity drew us into contemplation, its verses a mirror reflecting the light and shadow of our own lives.
The day waned into evening, and the comfort of the fire's glow became our sanctuary. In this sacred pause, we were reminded of the eternal warmth of faith that sustains us through the cold.
Lovingly, Kathy
[Transcription of St. Catherine’s Canticle on the Passion]
My friends and my neighbours drew nigh and stood against me.
I was betrayed, and came not forth: mine eyes failed for weakness. And my sweat became: as it were drops of blood flowing down upon the ground. Many dogs surrounded me: the council of the wicked besieged me. I gave my body to the smiters: and my cheeks to them that plucked them. I turned not away my face from them that rebuked me: and spat upon me. For I was prepared for scourges: and my sorrow is always in my sight.
The soldiers plaiting a crown of thorns: set it upon my head. They pierced my hands and my feet: they have numbered all my bones. And they gave me gall to eat: and in my thirst they gave me vinegar to drink. All they that saw me mocked me: they moved their lips and shook their heads.)
The soldiers plaiting a crown of thorns: set it upon my head. They pierced my hands and my feet: they have numbered all my bones. And they gave me gall to eat: and in my thirst they gave me vinegar to drink. All they that saw me mocked me: they moved their lips and shook their heads.)
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