October 25, 1955
Dear Diary,
Today was one of those brisk fall mornings where the chill hangs in the air, and you feel it right through your shawl. Sister Mary Claire and I bundled up and walked to Church with Mini trotting along beside us. The golden leaves crunched under our feet, glowing against the pale autumn sky.
Father LeRoy’s homily was about paying attention to the signs around us, from today’s reading in Luke. He reminded us how we can often predict the weather but miss the “weather” inside ourselves. “We are so good at predicting what’s outside us,” he said, “but are we just as thoughtful when it comes to the changes within?” He asked us to think about how we could let God’s light, or even His cleansing rain, soften our hearts. I couldn’t help thinking of the cave, where I go to listen inwardly and feel sheltered from everything.
After Mass, I headed to the cave. It was warmer inside than outside—a little heaven-sent shelter against the autumn chill. Mini curled up beside me as I settled in with All for Jesus. My thoughts drifted to Zurich, to the day Vreni and I sat in the sun, looking out over the lake. I wondered if she’d felt the fall air there yet, if it was already cold along the water.
As my eyes started to close, I remembered a line from Frederick William Faber, which seemed to wrap around me like a prayer:
“Kindness has converted more sinners than zeal, eloquence, or learning.”
With thoughts of Zurich and the warmth of my cave, I drifted into sleep, feeling wrapped in love and sheltered under God’s gentle care.
Today was one of those brisk fall mornings where the chill hangs in the air, and you feel it right through your shawl. Sister Mary Claire and I bundled up and walked to Church with Mini trotting along beside us. The golden leaves crunched under our feet, glowing against the pale autumn sky.
Father LeRoy’s homily was about paying attention to the signs around us, from today’s reading in Luke. He reminded us how we can often predict the weather but miss the “weather” inside ourselves. “We are so good at predicting what’s outside us,” he said, “but are we just as thoughtful when it comes to the changes within?” He asked us to think about how we could let God’s light, or even His cleansing rain, soften our hearts. I couldn’t help thinking of the cave, where I go to listen inwardly and feel sheltered from everything.
After Mass, I headed to the cave. It was warmer inside than outside—a little heaven-sent shelter against the autumn chill. Mini curled up beside me as I settled in with All for Jesus. My thoughts drifted to Zurich, to the day Vreni and I sat in the sun, looking out over the lake. I wondered if she’d felt the fall air there yet, if it was already cold along the water.
As my eyes started to close, I remembered a line from Frederick William Faber, which seemed to wrap around me like a prayer:
“Kindness has converted more sinners than zeal, eloquence, or learning.”
With thoughts of Zurich and the warmth of my cave, I drifted into sleep, feeling wrapped in love and sheltered under God’s gentle care.
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