Wednesday, September 18, 2024

The Wood of The Cross



 
September 18, 1955

Dear Diary,

Today felt like a little adventure with a bit of mystery sprinkled in. I rode my bicycle to St. Mary’s, and Mini, of course, came along in the basket, her ears flapping in the breeze, looking proud as ever. The American flag was tied to my bike, waving as we pedaled down the gravel road. In the basket next to Mini was something very special — a Crucifix I found at the Catholic Thrift store in Sioux City.

The Crucifix is beautiful and old, with a delicate ceramic figure of Jesus on an even older wooden cross. I couldn’t help but wonder about that wood — how old it must be, and where the tree that it was made from grew. What stories might it have witnessed before it was cut and shaped into a cross? Was it from a forest long forgotten, or perhaps a tree that sprouted in a time we can only imagine? I thought about the years it must have lived, its branches reaching for the sky, only to one day become part of this holy object that was carried along in my bicycle  basket protected by Mini's soft fur coat. It was like a piece of history, full of mystery and reverence.

When I arrived at St. Mary’s, I was excited to show Father LeRoy the Crucifix. He took it into his hands carefully, as if it were something very sacred. He studied it for a moment, turning it over and running his fingers along the smooth ceramic and the worn wood. “Kathy,” he said softly, “this is no ordinary Crucifix. The craftsmanship is remarkable. The wood, so old, and the ceramic figure of Jesus... I wonder where it’s been hiding all these years. Perhaps it was tucked away in an attic or forgotten in a quiet church for decades.” His words made me think even more about the journey this Crucifix had taken, and how it somehow found its way to me.

Then, during Mass, Father mentioned the Crucifix in his homily. Today’s Gospel from Luke 7:31-35 spoke of how the people of Jesus’ time were never satisfied, no matter what was done for them. They criticized John the Baptist for fasting and living simply, and they criticized Jesus for eating and drinking with sinners. Father used the Crucifix as an example, saying, “Just like this Crucifix, hidden and forgotten for years, so too do we sometimes forget the beauty and grace in front of us. We criticize, we doubt, we fail to see. But wisdom is vindicated by her children. We must open our hearts to recognize the love of God in all things, just as this Crucifix has been rediscovered and brought back to its rightful place.”

After the homily, Father passed the Crucifix around for everyone to touch. He said, “Let us all place our hands upon this sacred symbol and make Jesus happy with our reverence and love.” Each person held it with care, and I could see the deep respect they had for it. It felt like we were all sharing in something much bigger than ourselves.

After Mass, Sister Mary Claire and I spent the rest of the day cleaning the prayer wagon. We swept the floors, dusted the shelves, and made the space feel fresh again. Later, we went to the chicken house to add fresh straw to the nests. The hens seemed quite content, especially my brown hen, who gave me her usual special look. I think she appreciates the extra attention.

As the evening settles in, and Mini is already curled up under the bed, I reflect on the day. It was full of wonder and grace, and I feel so grateful for the little moments that make life feel so full.

Evening Prayer:

"Dear Lord, thank You for the beauty and mystery of today. For the joy of sharing the Crucifix, for the love and reverence we showed in Your presence, and for the wisdom You continue to reveal to us. Guide my heart to always see Your hand at work, even in the smallest of things. Bless our home, our animals, and all who touched the Crucifix today. Protect us through the night, and fill our hearts with Your peace as we rest. May we always be a reflection of Your love and light. Amen."

Goodnight, dear Diary.

Love,
Kathy

 


No comments:

Post a Comment

Third Day

September 28, 1955 Dear Diary, Another cold, blustery day, even worse than yesterday. My hopes of fishing by the shore of Okoboji were dashe...