Dear Diary,
This morning was like so many others, with the sun just beginning to warm the earth as Sister Mary Claire, Mini, and I set out for St. Mary's. The gravel road crunched beneath our feet, and the sound was like a familiar hymn, setting the rhythm for our prayers as we walked. The fields were alive with the scent of growing crops, and the sight of tall cornstalks swaying in the breeze made me think of how the land here seems to breathe with the life God has given it.
Mini, despite her little bottom wagging instead of a tail, seemed especially lively today, trotting along beside us with a joy that always makes me smile. She’s still recovering from her pain, but the fresh morning air seems to lift her spirits.
Father LeRoy's homily today was one that will stay with me. He spoke about the Gospel reading from John, where Jesus talks about the grain of wheat falling to the ground and dying to produce much fruit. As he spoke, I couldn’t help but think about the farms around here, where the cycles of life and death are so intertwined.
Father reminded us that just as the grain must die to bring forth new life, we too must sometimes let go of our own desires and comforts to truly serve God. He talked about how a farmer knows this truth better than most. The seed, once planted, disappears beneath the soil, but it’s through that very act of being buried that it finds its purpose. The fields we walk past every day are full of life because something was sacrificed.
He compared our lives to that grain of wheat, saying that when we hold on too tightly to our own lives—our plans, our wants—we remain just as we are, small and alone. But if we surrender ourselves to God’s will, like the seed that dies, we can bring forth something beautiful and fruitful.
It made me think about all the work we do here on the farm. Every season, we plant seeds, knowing that some will take root and others won’t. It’s always a bit of a mystery which ones will thrive. But we trust in God’s plan, knowing that the land will give back in abundance if we do our part.
Father's words made me see that our lives are much the same. We have to trust that if we follow where Jesus leads, even if it means letting go of what we think we want, God will bring forth something greater than we can imagine.
As we walked back home, I couldn’t help but feel a deep sense of peace, knowing that just as the fields are in God’s hands, so are we. The gravel road, the cornfields, the wide Iowa sky—they all seemed to whisper the same message: Trust and let go, for in dying to ourselves, we truly live.
With love,
Kathy
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