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Sunday, April 7, 2024

Dear Diary


Dear Diary,

April 8th, 1955

Before the sun peeked over the horizon, the kitchen was alive with the sweet scent of rhubarb. Sister Mary Claire, with her hands tenderly working through the night's harvest, prepared for our morning baking. Together, we baked a pie, its crust golden and filling tart, a perfect offering of our labor.

We dressed in our Sunday best for Holy Mass at the grand St. Ambrose Cathedral in Des Moines. The Mass was a symphony of grace, with voices in harmony and the light streaming through stained glass, painting stories on our faces. The sermon was a tapestry of wisdom, reminding us of the humble path of service.

Afterwards, the Maid Rite Café welcomed us with its familiar bustle. Ginger, with her smile as warm as the fresh coffee she poured, was delighted with the rhubarb pie and the promise of more to come. We shared our recipe, a simple set of instructions wrapped in love.

As dusk settled, Sister Mary Claire and I retreated to The Inner Court, our sanctuary on wheels. We recounted the day's grace, each person a stitch in the quilt of our prayers. For Ginger, we asked for joy and the unexpected blessings that come wrapped in everyday moments.

So, goodnight, dear Diary, and blessings to all those whose paths crossed ours today. In the quiet of our trailer, with hearts full and hands folded, we bid the world peace and slumber under the watchful eye of the Almighty.

Yours in reflection and gratitude, Kathy


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