Sunday Sermon

 
Dear Diary,

This cool August morning started with a peaceful walk to St. Mary’s. Sister Mary Claire, Mini, and I set out together just as the first light of dawn began to break through the horizon. The air was crisp, with a gentle breeze that carried the fresh scent of dew-covered grass and the earthy aroma of the fields. It felt like the world was waking up slowly, and we were part of that gentle awakening.

Mini, full of energy after her recovery, trotted happily beside us, her little bottom wagging with each step. She was so full of life, occasionally darting ahead to explore before circling back. The three of us walked together in a comfortable rhythm, enjoying the quiet morning as we made our way along the gravel road.

As we neared the church, the simple, weathered structure of St. Mary’s came into view, standing tall and serene against the morning sky. The bell tower was silhouetted against the soft light, and the churchyard was still and peaceful. We paused for a moment, taking in the sight, before making our way inside.

Inside the church, the air was filled with the soft glow of candlelight. The stained glass windows, illuminated by the rising sun, cast beautiful, colorful patterns across the pews and floor. The scent of incense lingered, blending with the fresh morning air that had followed us in. Mini settled quietly by my feet as we found our place, her eyes bright and attentive as if she too understood the sacredness of the moment.

Father LeRoy’s homily today was particularly moving. He spoke about the sixth chapter of the Gospel of John, focusing on verses 41-51. His voice, calm and steady, filled the church as he drew a beautiful parallel between our earthly journeys and our spiritual ones.

“A long trip by car or plane can be uncomfortable, even overwhelming,” he began. “But we’re heading somewhere else; we’re on a journey. And on a long journey, you have to find sustenance to keep going. The Eucharist is that sustenance for our souls, the bread of life that gives us the strength to continue on our path toward God. Just as we need food for our bodies, we need the Eucharist to nourish our spirits and keep us close to Christ.”

His words seemed to settle over the congregation like a warm blanket, comforting and reassuring. I felt a deep sense of peace and gratitude, reminded of the importance of the Eucharist in my own spiritual journey.

After Mass, we stepped back outside into the cool morning air. The world was fully awake now, bathed in the golden light of the rising sun. Mini, still full of energy, bounced along the gravel road, her little nose busy sniffing the grass along the road's shoulder. Sister Mary Claire and I walked quietly, discussing the homily as we made our way back home.

The rest of the day passed in its usual rhythm on the farm. Mini played happily around the yard, occasionally pausing to chase a chicken or two. Omelette, my brown hen, clucked contentedly as she scratched at the ground, while Shaggycoat busied himself down by the creek, tending to his beaver affairs. As the evening light began to fade, the farm settled into a peaceful quiet, the perfect end to a blessed day.

As the stars began to twinkle in the sky, I gathered Mini and Omelette for our evening prayer. Kneeling on the soft grass outside the chicken coop, with Mini curled up beside me and Omelette nestled nearby, I whispered a prayer of thanks.

“Dear Lord, thank You for the strength and sustenance You provide, both for our bodies and our souls. Thank You for the peace of this farm, for Mini’s recovery, and for the quiet moments of grace that fill our days. Watch over us tonight, and guide us always on our journey toward You. Amen.”

With that, I made sure Omelette was safe in the coop before heading back to the prayer wagon to tuck Mini in for the night. The sounds of the night—crickets chirping, leaves rustling—lulled me to sleep, knowing that all was well in our little world.

Goodnight dear Diary,

Kathy