This morning greeted us with a sharp, crisp chill, a reminder of the lingering spirit of winter. Sister Mary Claire, Mini, and I ventured out for a long walk. The frost painted the grass a shimmering white, crunching softly under our steps. As we wandered through the quiet, the world seemed paused, wrapped in a serene hush.
Upon our return, the Inner Court Wagon welcomed us with the warmth of a roaring fire, thoughtfully stoked by Tom. The cozy blaze was a heartening sight, and we settled in quickly, warming our hands with cups filled with comforting warmth. I savored the rich sweetness of hot cocoa, while Sister Mary Claire enjoyed a robust cup of Judy's coffee.
The evening brought its own magic as Sister Mary Claire, my cherished blood sister, for whom I am ever so grateful, opened our beloved Inner Court prayer book. Her voice, gentle and soothing, filled the space as she read aloud, imbuing the words with life and warmth. It's moments like these, Diary, that I feel the profound bond between us, a connection that is both a refuge and a joy.
As the day closes, I hold onto the peace that her reading brought, and I share with you the prayer she read, a prayer that seems to echo the day's tranquil beauty:
**Holy Mary, my sovereign Lady, into thy blessed trust and special custody and into the bosom of thy mercy, do I this day and every day, and at the hour of my death, commend my soul and body; to thee I commit all my hope and consolation, all my anxieties and miseries, my life and the end of my life, that through thy most holy intercession and through thy merits all my actions may be ordered and disposed according to thy will and that of thy Son. Amen.**
Goodnight, Dear Diary. Today has been a gentle reminder of the blessings of family and the quiet joys of our shared moments.
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