Sweet Comfort on a Cold Day

November 30, 1955

Dear Diary

The day started off cold and stubborn, with the pickup refusing to start in the five-degree chill. Walking to church wasn’t possible, so we stayed home. Mini, as lively as always, needed her exercise, so I made it a point to take her outside several times for short little jaunts. Her cheerful energy always lifts my spirits, even on the frostiest days.

To brighten things up even more, Sister Mary Claire had the wonderful idea of baking chocolate chip cookies. She went to the cupboard and pulled out her package of Nestlé Toll House chocolate chips, saying with a smile, “These should do the trick.” As always, she reached for her favorite brown sugar—Bob’s Red Mill—because, as she says, “The best ingredients make the best cookies.”

While the cookies baked, the house filled with the coziest aroma. As we waited, Sister Mary Claire shared a story about confession. She spoke about how it reveals where we’ve been selfish but also opens the door to generosity. “It’s like cookies,” she said. “Every ingredient matters, and confession helps us bring the missing ingredients—love, humility, and forgiveness—into the recipe of our hearts.”

When the cookies came out of the oven, I made sure to take mine out right at 7 minutes. That’s when I call them "Baked Just Right." The Nestlé chocolate chips melted perfectly, and the rich, caramel flavor from the Bob’s Red Mill brown sugar made them irresistible. Sitting down with a plate of warm cookies and a glass of milk, I realized how much joy can come from small, thoughtful acts on a cold day.

Evening Prayer

Dear Lord,

Thank You for the warmth of love and the sweetness of little joys on this cold day. Help me to learn from Sister Mary Claire’s story about confession and generosity. Open my heart to see where I can grow and love more deeply. Please bless those who feel the cold or loneliness tonight, and let them feel Your presence.

Amen.

Until tomorrow,

Kathy

P.S. Sister Mary Claire’s Chocolate Chip Cookie Recipe

Ingredients:

• 1 cup (2 sticks) real butter, softened
• 1 cup granulated sugar
• 1 cup packed Bob’s Red Mill brown sugar
• 2 large eggs
• 2 teaspoons pure vanilla extract
• 3 cups all-purpose flour
• 1 teaspoon baking soda
• 1/2 teaspoon baking powder
• 1/2 teaspoon salt
• 2 cups Nestlé Toll House chocolate chips

Directions:

1. Preheat the oven to 375°F (190°C).

2. In a large mixing bowl, cream together the softened butter, granulated sugar, and brown sugar until smooth and fluffy.

3. Beat in the eggs, one at a time, then stir in the vanilla extract.

4. In a separate bowl, whisk together the flour, baking soda, baking powder, and salt.

5. Gradually add the dry ingredients to the wet mixture, mixing until fully combined.

6. Stir in the Nestlé Toll House chocolate chips.

7. Drop rounded tablespoons of dough onto an ungreased baking sheet, spacing them about 2 inches apart.

8. Bake for 7 minutes, as Kathy likes her cookies taken out at this time and calls them baked just right. They’ll be soft in the center but will set as they cool.

9. Let the cookies cool on the baking sheet for 2 minutes before transferring them to a wire rack to cool completely.

Enjoy every bite of these perfectly baked cookies, knowing they’re made with love and care!

Faith and Firelight

 

November 29, 1955

Dear Diary,


The air outside feels as sharp as glass tonight, with lows creeping into the single digits. But here in our cozy little house, all is well. The pantry is full, the fire burns steadily, and Mini is curled up beside me, her little nose tucked under her paws. She looks so peaceful, as if the cold outside doesn’t exist.

Tonight, Sister Mary Claire and I sat by the fire while she read to me about faith and generosity. She explained how true generosity isn’t just about giving what is easy but offering what costs us—our time, our comfort, or even our will. As I listened, I couldn’t help but compare her words to the fire before us. A fire asks something of us. It needs logs, kindling, and care. Without them, it dies. Faith, too, demands effort and sacrifice, but what it gives back—warmth, light, and strength—is far greater than what it costs.

As I watched the fire flicker, I thought back to early fall when Mini and I prepared for winter. We walked through the grove, gathering sticks and pine cones for kindling. Mini sniffed out every stick, wagging her little tail as if she were the best helper in the world.  Those simple, ordinary tasks—gathering sticks, filling baskets, —have now turned into the warmth that fills this room.

This reminds me of how faith works in our Catholic life. The small acts we offer, like gathering kindling, can become something much greater when we give them to God. A prayer said before the Blessed Sacrament, a small act of kindness for a neighbor, or even offering up little sacrifices throughout the day—all of these are like sticks and cobs we collect, fueling a fire that burns brighter through grace.

Sister Mary Claire said something tonight that stayed with me: "Christ Himself showed us the greatest generosity when He gave everything for us on the Cross." It’s humbling to think that we are called to imitate that same love and sacrifice. Even in small ways, we can bring light and warmth to others, just as He did.

As the firelight flickered on the walls and Sister Mary Claire’s voice softened, I glanced at Mini, her eyes half-closed after all her "help" with the chores back then. I feel grateful tonight—for her, for the fire, for the rhythm of our life on the farm, and for the gift of faith that transforms even the smallest acts into something beautiful.

O Sacred Heart of Jesus, may I tend to my faith like this fire, offering the small things with love, knowing that You can make them burn brightly for Your glory.

Goodnight, dear Diary.

Kathy

A Snowbound Thanksgiving Lesson

 

November 28, 1955
 
Dear Diary,

Today was Thanksgiving, and even though the snow kept us home, Sister Mary Claire reminded me it’s not just about a big meal or gathering with family. She said Thanksgiving is truly about gratitude and generosity—two sides of the same coin.

As we sat by the fire, Sister shared that the word “thanksgiving” means giving thanks but also giving of ourselves. She said the Pilgrims didn’t just thank God for their blessings; they also shared what little they had with their neighbors. That sharing—their generosity—was how they showed their gratitude to God.

I thought about that while feeding the chickens and gathering their eggs. The brown hen pecked at my shoelaces again, and instead of being annoyed, I laughed and thought of her as one of God’s little gifts. Sister says generosity isn’t just about giving what we have—it’s about giving with a loving heart. She reminded me of St. Francis of Assisi, who gave his cloak to a man in need, not out of duty but because he saw Christ in him.

Thanksgiving is a day to count blessings, yes, but it’s also a day to ask, “How can I be a blessing to someone else?” Maybe it’s in the little things—like making sure the hen’s basket is clean and comfortable, or sharing some of our eggs with a neighbor who might need them. Even sharing my time with Mini, tossing her squeaky ball across the room, feels like a small act of love.

Sister told me that God is the first and greatest giver. Everything we have—the snow outside, the crackling fire, even Mini’s funny little wagging bottom—is a gift from Him. She said when we give back to others, whether it’s time, kindness, or even just a smile, we’re reflecting His love. That’s what makes our thanksgiving holy.

So tonight, as I sit by the fire and look at Mini dozing peacefully, I’m asking God to help me grow in gratitude and generosity. I want to give, not because I have to, but because my heart is so full it can’t help but overflow. That’s the kind of thanksgiving I want to live—not just today, but every day.

Goodnight, Diary.

Thank You, God, for Your endless blessings. Teach me to give as You give, to love as You love, and to see the face of Jesus in everyone I meet.

With love,

Kathy

Quiet Gospel Day with Pancakes

 
 

November 27, 1955

Dear Diary,



The mimeograph machine sat quiet today in the corner of the bedroom. Sister Mary Claire and I were bound to stay indoors as St. Mary’s called off services due to the harsh weather. Snow covered everything, making the walk to church impossible. It felt strange knowing that Gospel Reading Number 100 would not be seen or shared at Mass today. But I kept the original readings and tucked them carefully into my notebook, preserving them like a treasure.

Over breakfast, Sister Mary Claire took the time to explain the Gospel reading to me. We sat together, cozy and warm, while she told me how Jesus reminds us to persevere through trials and promises that not a single hair on our heads will be harmed if we stay faithful. Her words felt comforting, like the buttermilk pancake she had prepared. Kolona Dairy butter and maple syrup made it heavenly, and Brown Hen’s freshly laid egg, fried just so, completed the plate.

Here’s the pancake recipe Sister used from her Kitchen Klatter cookbook:

Buttermilk Pancakes

1 cup flour
1 tablespoon sugar
1 teaspoon baking powder
1/2 teaspoon baking soda
1/4 teaspoon salt
1 cup buttermilk
1 egg
2 tablespoons melted butter

In a bowl, mix flour, sugar, baking powder, baking soda, and salt.
In another bowl, whisk buttermilk, egg, and melted butter. Combine with dry ingredients until just mixed.
Heat a skillet and pour 1/4 cup batter for each pancake. Flip when bubbles form and edges look set. Cook until golden.

Mini, of course, found the snow just as troublesome as we did. Knowing her outdoor adventures were out of the question, she focused on keeping us entertained. She kept dropping her squeaky ball in front of us every time she thought we had an idle moment. I don’t know how she always seems to sense when I’ve finished a bite or Sister’s voice pauses between sentences. She is truly a clever little dog.

Brown Hen stayed indoors with us, her cozy nest still at the foot of our bed. I gave her a thankful pat this morning after collecting her egg—her way of contributing to my breakfast.

As I reflect on today, I’m grateful for the quiet moments, for Sister’s warm presence, and for the simple comforts we share. Here’s a little prayer I wrote for this snowy day:

Dear Lord, thank You for Your promise of protection and for teaching us to trust in Your plan. In this stillness, help us find joy in the little things—a faithful dog, a good meal, and a safe home. Guide us through the storms, both outside and in our hearts. Amen.

With love,
Kathy

 

The Cold Snap

November 26, 1955

Dear Diary

The Gospel reading today from Luke 21:5-11 felt especially fitting as we prepared for the snowstorm ahead. Jesus spoke of mighty signs and changes, reminding us to trust in God’s plan through uncertainty. On a smaller scale, our day echoed that—filled with unexpected challenges but ending in peace.

Tom’s pickup truck was a blessing as Sister Mary Claire and I ventured out to Church and then into Des Moines. We stocked up on supplies, mindful of the forecast, and even captured a photo of the snowy streets when we arrived in town. It was a reminder of how beautiful winter can be, even in its harshness. Mini, ever the adventurer, seemed delighted by all the commotion. I could tell she thought today was something special.

Back home, the driveway was so snowed over that we parked the truck at the end and carried the groceries by hand. Sister Mary Claire and I worked quickly to fetch my brown hen and her nesting box, ensuring she’d be warm and safe. Chores finished, we delivered Tom and Judy’s supplies to the big house, grateful for their kindness in sharing the truck.

Now the house is quiet, except for the soft crackle of the fire and the sound of Mini’s sleepy sighs from under the bed. Sister Mary Claire is already writing in her notebook, and I feel the day settling peacefully into my heart.

Dear Lord,
Thank You for guiding us safely through the snow today. Thank You for Tom’s truck, the groceries, and the warmth of our little home. In this cold season, help us to remember that You are our shelter in all storms, just as You care for every sparrow and hen. Bless Mini as she sleeps, Sister Mary Claire as she writes, and the kind hearts of those who help us along the way. May we continue to find Your love in every snowy challenge and every moment of peace.

Amen.

Goodnight, Diary.
Kathy

Dear Diary

November 25, 1955

Dear Diary,

This morning, Sister Mary Claire and I walked home from church with Mini happily trotting alongside us, her little bottom wagging with each step. The crisp air turned our cheeks rosy, but the walk felt warm with Sister explaining today’s Gospel reading.

She told me about the poor widow who gave two small coins, explaining that her gift was worth more than all the wealthy people’s offerings because she gave all she had. “It’s not about the amount, Kathy,” Sister said kindly. “It’s about the love and trust in God behind the gift. The widow gave her heart with those coins, not just her money.”

I asked Sister if we could ever give like that, and she said, “Every time we give with love and sacrifice, we grow closer to God. It could be our time, our effort, or even giving up something we like to help someone else. It’s not the size of the gift, but the size of the love that matters.”

When we got home, breakfast was soon waiting, and it was just perfect for a cold day—Irish oatmeal topped with a pad of butter and a small splash of whipping cream to keep us warm and full through the morning. Sister explained why oatmeal from Ireland is so special. “It’s grown in the rich soil and milled in small batches. That’s what gives it such a hearty texture and delicious flavor.”

Here’s the recipe:
 
Ingredients:

1 cup steel-cut Irish oats
4 cups water
Pinch of salt
Optional toppings: butter, honey, whipping cream, or a sprinkle of brown sugar

Instructions:

Bring the water and salt to a boil in a saucepan.
Stir in the oats and reduce the heat to low.
Simmer gently for about 30 minutes, stirring occasionally, until the oats are tender and creamy.
Serve hot with your favorite toppings.

The day passed quietly after breakfast. Mini spent most of the time curled up in her favorite spot by the hearth, occasionally looking up at me with her sweet eyes, her squeaky ball nearby.

After dinner, Sister and I tidied up the kitchen, and she began singing Immaculate Mary. Her voice filled the house, and I joined in softly. Mini lay at our feet, content and calm as the evening drew to a close.

Evening Prayer:

Dear Lord,
Thank You for today’s Gospel and for teaching me through the story of the widow’s offering. Help me to give with a heart full of love and trust in You. Bless Sister Mary Claire for her guidance and Mini for her faithful companionship. Keep us safe and close to You always. Amen.

Goodnight, dear diary.
Love,
Kathy

Christ The King

November 24, 2024

Feast of Christ the King

Dear Diary,

This morning was crisp, with a golden sun shining through the frost-kissed trees. It felt fitting for the Feast of Christ the King, a day to remember His reign over all creation. Sister Mary Claire and I bundled up and walked to Mass, with Mini at our side, her little bottom wagging with joy. She always makes our mornings brighter.

Father LeRoy's homily today was especially meaningful. He reflected on Jesus' words in the Gospel: “My kingdom is not of this world” (John 18:36), and reminded us that Christ’s kingdom isn’t built on power or riches but on love, sacrifice, and truth. He introduced a Spanish phrase that I loved: “El que no vive para servir, no sirve para vivir.” It means, “He who does not live to serve, does not serve to live.”

Father shared a story from his time as a missionary in South America. He met a young boy named Mateo who was poor but rich in kindness. Mateo would carry water from the well to his neighbors every day, helping elderly villagers who couldn’t manage it themselves. When Father asked him why he did it, Mateo simply smiled and said, “Porque Jesús lo haría”—“Because Jesus would do it.” Father said Mateo’s actions were a glimpse of Christ’s kingdom on earth, where service and love shine brightest.

The story stayed with me all day. It made me think of the small ways I can serve, whether it’s helping Sister Mary Claire with chores or sharing the eggs from our hens with the Breakfast Club. Even Mini, in her own way, serves by bringing us so much joy and comfort!

Tonight, as Sister Mary Claire and I settled into bed, I could still hear Father LeRoy’s voice in my heart, reminding us that Christ’s kingdom is one of humility and love. Mini is stretched out at the foot of the bed, her little snores like music to my ears. I whispered the Spanish phrase one more time before closing my eyes: “El que no vive para servir, no sirve para vivir.”

"O Jesus, King of the Universe, reign in my heart today and always."

Goodnight, dear Diary.

Love,
Kathy

 

The Gabriel Gargam Story

November 23, 1955

Dear Diary,

 
This evening was one of those golden, quiet moments I’ll never forget. Sister Mary Claire and I settled in front of the wood-burning stove after finishing our chores. The fire cast its warm glow over the room, crackling and snapping in the stillness. Mini lay at our feet, her little ears twitching as though she was listening too. The air was chilly outside, but here, it felt as cozy as a snug cocoon.

As we sipped our mugs of warm milk with a touch of honey, Sister Mary Claire began to tell me the story of Gabriel Gargam. She has a way of making stories come alive, her voice soft yet filled with reverence. I penciled her words as best I could, not wanting to forget a single detail.

“Gabriel Gargam,” she began, “was a young man in France, working on the railway. It was in 1899 when his life changed forever. There was a terrible train accident—one of those tragedies you read about but never think will happen to someone so full of life. Gabriel was thrown from the train, and his body was shattered.”

Mini sighed, her head resting on her paws, as though she felt the weight of the story too.

“His injuries were so severe that doctors said he would never recover. He was paralyzed, Kathy, unable to move or even feed himself properly. Imagine it—just lying there, helpless, for years. He wasted away until he was barely more than a skeleton, weighing just 78 pounds. Everyone thought he was on the verge of death.”

Sister Mary Claire paused, gazing into the flames, and I could see the flicker of sadness in her eyes.

“But Gabriel had a family who loved him,” she continued, her tone lifting slightly. “His aunt was a devout Catholic and insisted he visit Lourdes, though he didn’t believe it would help him. He was so bitter about his suffering that he resisted at first, but finally, he gave in.”

She smiled softly. “They carried him there on a stretcher. Can you picture it? A man so weak that they doubted he’d survive the journey. But when they arrived at Lourdes, something extraordinary happened.”

At this point, the fire crackled louder, almost as if it were leaning in to hear the story too. Mini’s ears perked up, and I swear she opened one eye to glance at us.

Sister Mary Claire continued, “They brought him to the grotto, the very spot where Our Lady appeared to Saint Bernadette. Gabriel was bathed in the waters of the miraculous spring three times, but at first, he didn’t feel any change. It was only after receiving Holy Communion and the Eucharistic blessing in a procession that he felt something incredible. Warmth coursed through his body, and suddenly, the man who had been paralyzed for years could move.”

I could hardly breathe. “Did he really get better?” I whispered, though I already knew the answer.

“Yes,” Sister Mary Claire replied, her face radiant. “By the end of the pilgrimage, he could sit up, then stand, and finally walk. The doctors who had treated him before were astonished. They said his recovery was completely unexplainable by medical science.”

I felt a lump in my throat as she concluded, “From that moment on, Gabriel became a changed man. He dedicated his life to helping other pilgrims at Lourdes and sharing his story of faith. What began in despair turned into a testimony of God’s grace.”

The room fell quiet, except for the soft hum of the fire. I thought about Gabriel and how much he had endured, and yet, through Our Lady of Lourdes, he found healing and a new purpose. It made me wonder about the miracles we might find in our own lives if we have faith.

Mini let out a soft bark, perhaps agreeing with my thoughts. I reached down to scratch her ears and thanked God for the warmth of the fire, the comfort of Mini, and the blessing of a sister like Mary Claire to share such inspiring stories.

Before bed, I opened my Irish Prayer Book and said a quiet prayer for all those who suffer.
“O Mary of Grace and Mother of God, may we always trust in your loving intercession.”

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The John Traynor Story

November 22, 1955

Dear Diary,

Tonight, as Sister Mary Claire and I snuggled under the quilt, the snowstorm outside seemed to soften its howls, as if it wanted to listen to her voice too. The little room glowed warm and golden, with the candlelight flickering against the frosted windowpane. Mini curled up contentedly at our feet, her little chest rising and falling in time with Sister’s words.

She was reading to me about a man named John Traynor, (The Full Story) a soldier broken by war but healed in a way only Heaven could explain. She told me how he’d been paralyzed, his body battered by shrapnel and despair, yet he made a journey to Lourdes on nothing but faith. And there, as Sister read, his story unfolded. I could almost picture the moment he stood, no longer broken, no longer a prisoner of his injuries, but free—free to walk, to live, to love again.

Sister’s voice wove the story like a hymn, her words full of hope and wonder. She looked over at me, her dark brown hair catching the candlelight, and smiled softly as if to say, “See, little one? Nothing is impossible for God.”

I rested my head against her shoulder and whispered, “Do you think the water there is really that special?”

Her smile widened, and she leaned her head to mine. “It’s not the water, Kathy,” she said, her voice warm and sure. “It’s what’s behind the water—the love of Our Lady, and her Son’s endless grace.”

The wind outside seemed quieter now, as though the world itself paused to remember John Traynor’s miracle. As Sister Mary Claire continued reading, her hand resting gently on mine, I felt something stir in my heart—something hopeful, something holy.

Goodnight, dear Diary. May miracles find us all, even in the quiet of snow-filled nights.

With love,
Kathy

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Snow Bound

 

November 21, 1955

Dear Diary,

Today was encapsulated by a blanket of snow as a small blizzard swept through overnight, making the roads once again impassable. It's always a bit magical to wake up to such a wintry wonderland, but it also means a lot of extra work.

Sister Mary Claire and I spent the morning nestled in warmth, reading from the Sister's Daily Roman Missal. Today's Gospel was quite moving—Luke 19:41-44, where Jesus weeps over Jerusalem. Sister Mary Claire has such a gift for storytelling; she explained the reading in a way that made it feel so vivid and poignant, almost as if I could see the tears of Christ myself.

Chores were done quickly today; the cold bit at our fingers as we hustled. I had to gather eggs three times just to ensure they wouldn’t freeze—thank goodness we managed to save them all. Mini, bless her heart, struggled with the deep snow but managed her typical hop-hop style to get around. It's both amusing and heartwarming to watch.

I managed to drop a letter for Vreni in the mailbox. It's filled with tales of our snowy siege and some sketches I’ve been working on. Though I suspect it might sit there for a day or two given the snow-blocked roads, I always feel closer to her knowing it's on its way.

As night drew close, Sister Mary Claire and I concluded our day with a sweet evening prayer, asking for warmth and safety for all those with cold feet and colder hearts tonight. May they find warmth in their homes and in their hearts.

Dear Lord, as we rest under Your watchful eyes tonight, blanket us with Your peace. Protect those out in the cold, and let Your love be a warm embrace around the world. Amen.

Goodnight, Diary.

Love, Kathy

 

Recipe for a Perfect Evening

 
November 19, 2024

Dear Diary,

This morning’s walk to Church was crisp and sunny. The 49-degree air made it feel like the perfect autumn day. Mini was her cheerful self, trotting along beside Sister Mary Claire and me. On the way, we met Cheryl, one of Mini’s favorite neighbors. You would have thought Cheryl had been away for a year by the way Mini greeted her—spinning in happy little circles and wagging her tail-less bottom as fast as she could. Cheryl laughed and bent down to give Mini a pat, which made her day.

At Mass, Father LeRoy gave a wonderful homily that brought the Gospel reading to life. He shared the story of a man who, like Zacchaeus, had climbed high in life—not into a tree, but in his achievements. This man had everything he could want yet felt a great emptiness. It was only when he opened his heart to generosity and service to others that he truly found joy, just as Zacchaeus did when he welcomed Jesus into his home.

After Mass, Father took a moment to thank me for decorating the Gospel reading handout with the image of Mini and me. He said it gave the reading a warm, personal touch and made it even more meaningful for the parishioners. I felt a little glow of pride knowing that Mini and I had contributed something special.

This afternoon, I sat down to write a letter to Vreni. I thanked her for introducing me to St. Bernard’s Memorare prayer, which I’ve now copied into my All for Jesus book so I can pray it often. Her letters are always so thoughtful, and I’m excited to send mine off to her tomorrow.

For our evening snack, Sister Mary Claire and I enjoyed her freshly baked buns with a generous smear of butter. We paired them with mugs of hot chocolate, which warmed us up after the cool day. Here’s the recipe for the hot chocolate we made:

Homemade Hot Chocolate

Ingredients:

2 cups whole milk
1/4 cup heavy cream
2 tablespoons unsweetened cocoa powder
2 tablespoons sugar (or to taste)
1/4 teaspoon vanilla extract
A pinch of salt
Whipped cream or marshmallows (optional)

Instructions:Heat the milk and cream in a saucepan over medium heat until warm, but do not let it boil.
Whisk in the cocoa powder, sugar, and salt until smooth.
Stir until the mixture is hot and creamy.
Remove from heat and add the vanilla extract.
Pour into mugs and top with whipped cream or marshmallows, if desired. Enjoy!

As I write this, Mini is curled up by my feet, snoozing softly. The quiet hum of the evening feels comforting after a full and lovely day. I’ll end my entry with this little prayer:

Evening Prayer

Dear Lord,
Thank You for the blessings of this day—our walk to Church, the warmth of Cheryl’s kindness, and the wisdom of Father’s homily. Help me to be more like Zacchaeus, open to Your love and ready to share that love with others. Bless Sister Mary Claire and our home, and watch over Vreni as she continues to inspire me. And thank You for Mini, who brings so much joy to my days. Amen.

Goodnight, Diary.
Love,
Kathy

 

The Wind Always Reminds Me It's Iowa

See Bottom of Page

November 18, 1955

Dear Diary,

Vreni’s letter arrived today, and it brought such joy that my cheeks hurt from smiling! Inside was the Memorare prayer, all typed out with Vreni's new typewriter, which I will read as my evening prayer tonight. It’s such a beautiful prayer, and Sister Mary Claire told me that it was made famous by St. Bernard of Clairvaux, a devoted monk who loved Our Lady deeply. She said he often encouraged people to pray it in times of trouble, and it brings special graces. Isn't that wonderful? I feel so blessed to have a friend like Vreni, who shares her faith so warmly across the miles.

We didn’t make it to Church this morning, though, which feels a little odd. Last night, we stayed up too late watching an Alfred Hitchcock movie. I can still feel the suspense lingering! Sister Mary Claire said she had a hard time falling asleep afterward, and even Mini seemed unsettled, pacing around. This morning, we overslept entirely, which hardly ever happens, but it gave us the chance to have a slower day together.

Mini has been her usual loyal self, trotting from room to room to keep tabs on us. The wind has been howling outside—it’s a proper Iowa kind of day, cold and blustery at 50 degrees. Mini takes her role as family protector very seriously; she’s been barking at the wind as if it’s an intruder trying to sneak past her watch. I had to laugh when she gave up her post and curled up by the fire, still mumbling little growls under her breath.

Vreni’s letter is far too precious to keep tucked away, so I’ll paste it to the inside of this diary where I can always see it. That way, it will be like having a little piece of her here with me. For now, I’ll fold it neatly and slide it into my All for Jesus book until I can grab the paste.

Tonight, as I kneel to say the Memorare, I’ll think of Vreni and our shared faith. I’ll also think of St. Bernard and his wisdom. Iowa’s wind might try to steal my thoughts away, but I’ll offer them all to Our Lady.

Yours faithfully,

Kathy

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Watching for His Light

November 17, 1955

Dear Diary

This morning, the air was crisp and cool, just 44 degrees, so Sister Mary Claire and I bundled up in our coats, sweaters, stocking caps, and gloves for the walk to Church. Mini, as always, trotted alongside us, her own fur sweater keeping her warm. I couldn’t help smiling as her little paws crunched on the frosty gravel road.

When we arrived, I handed out the Gospel reading with Mini at my side—number 90! Can you imagine? Ninety times sharing God’s Word with our parish family. Mini greeted everyone with her cheerful little bottom-wiggle, making sure no one missed their copy.

Today’s Gospel reading was from Mark 13:24-32, a passage that left me thinking deeply. Father LeRoy, in his homily, painted a vivid picture to help us understand.

He said the darkness and falling stars Jesus spoke of aren’t meant to scare us but to remind us of how small and fleeting the world is compared to God’s eternal love. He told a story of a boy who lost his way during a terrible storm. Though the lightning flashed and the thunder roared, the boy noticed a tiny flickering lantern far away—it was his father, searching for him. The boy ran toward the light and found his way home.

Father said the "fig tree" is like that lantern: when its branches soften and leaves sprout, we know summer is near. In the same way, when we notice signs in our world—kindness shared, prayers answered—we know Jesus is near, just as the boy’s father was near in the storm. He reminded us that while no one knows when Jesus will return, not even the angels, we should live every day ready to run toward His light.

After Mass, the afternoon was quiet and peaceful. I spent some time reading and writing, even starting to prepare for Monday's Gospel reading. Sister Mary Claire made hot cocoa, and the sweetness seemed to warm me from the inside out.

As the evening settled in, Mini and I played a game of keep-away with her yellow squeak ball. She always outsmarts me, darting just out of reach, squeaking her ball triumphantly.

Before bed, I knelt by the window, gazing at the stars and whispering a prayer:

“Dear Jesus, help me keep watch for You, even when the world feels dark. May my heart always be ready to see Your light and run toward You. Amen.”

Mini curled up under my bed, her ball tucked safely beside her. Another day tucked safely into His care.

Goodnight, dear Diary.

Love,
Kathy

A Blessed Coicidece and Prayer From Vreni

Dear Diary,

November 16, 1955

Today has been simply wonderful! This morning, I received a postcard from my dear friend Vreni. She wrote a beautiful little prayer from her prayer book that she often says on her walks: "Jesus, Mary, and Joseph, I give you my heart and my soul. Amen. Amen. Amen." I was so touched by it, I tucked the postcard into my pocket and took it along with me to Holy Mass.

Imagine my surprise when Father LeRoy's homily seemed to echo the very same devotion! He spoke about offering our hearts and souls to Jesus, Mary, and Joseph, and how each small prayer we say is like a step closer to them. It felt as if Vreni’s prayer and Father’s words were meant just for me today. After Mass, I showed Father the postcard, and he smiled, saying that the Holy Family must be watching over both Vreni and me. I felt so blessed.

White Bread Recipe

As promised, here’s the recipe for white bread. It’s the kind that fills the kitchen with a warm, comforting aroma and bakes into a soft, golden loaf that we can enjoy at breakfast or tea.

Ingredients:

3 cups bread flour (King Arthur if possible)
1 egg
1 cup whole milk

1/4 stick softened butter 
2 tablespoon sugar
1 teaspoon salt
2 teaspoons yeast

Instructions: Warm the milk until it's lukewarm, then dissolve the yeast and sugar in it. Let it sit until it's bubbly.
In a large mixing bowl, combine the flour, salt and softened butter,
Add the yeast mixture and egg to the flour, and knead until the dough is smooth and elastic.
Cover the dough and let it rise for about an hour, or until it doubles in size.
Punch down the dough, shape it into a loaf, and place it in a greased loaf pan.
Let it rise again for about 30 minutes, then bake at 350°F (175°C) for 30-35 minutes, or until golden brown.

Evening Prayer

Dear Jesus, Mary, and Joseph,
Thank You for blessing me with friends like Vreni and for guiding me with Father’s homily today. I give You my heart and my soul, just as Vreni’s prayer says, and I pray that You watch over all those I hold dear. Thank You for giving me Mini’s companionship, bringing warmth and joy to every step I take. Help me walk in Your light and bring peace to those around me. Amen.

Warmth Across the Miles

Dear Diary,

Today’s Gospel was a strong reminder of staying prepared, like the days of Noah and Lot. I wondered about what it means to be ready, to hold onto what matters while letting go of things that weigh us down. I think sometimes we don’t realize how easily we can get lost in little things that don’t last.

It’s a quiet, chilly day, and the air is heavy with the sense of winter on its way. Mini found a warm spot curled up in a little ball next to the church stove, snug and content. Right before the homily, Sister Mary Claire got up to add a piece of wood to keep the warmth going. I wonder what a really cold winter would feel like here. The Farmers' Almanac says we should expect lots of snow and below-zero days – quite an adventure ahead, if that’s true.

Something lovely happened during Mass today. When I opened my prayer book, out slipped Vreni's letter, with the little sketch she made of me. It felt like she was right there with me, like her kind thoughts had crossed the miles just to visit me in this quiet place. I felt such warmth, like friendship itself was wrapping around me.

O Lord, thank You for friends who feel close no matter the distance. Let our thoughts and prayers for each other be like gentle lights along the way. Amen.

A Chilly Morning and the Kingdom Among Us

November 14, 1955

Dear Diary,

This morning started off brisk, with a frosty 34 degrees. Mini wasn’t thrilled about leaving her warm spot by the fire, so I coaxed her out with a tiny dab of peanut butter on a spoon—just enough to tempt her to follow me. I try to keep her trim, so it was a very small taste, but it did the trick! Soon we were off to Mass, and our breath made little clouds as we walked in the chilly air.

Today’s Gospel reading was from Luke 17:20-25, where Jesus spoke about the Kingdom of God. After Mass, Sister Mary Claire explained that when Jesus said, “The Kingdom of God is among you,” He was teaching that it isn’t something we wait for or point out—it’s already here, living in our hearts and in our choices. She reminded me that Jesus also warned His disciples not to chase after signs, saying, “Just as lightning flashes and lights up the sky, so will the Son of Man be in His day.” Sister Mary Claire said it will be clear when He returns, just like a flash of lightning lighting up the whole sky.

For lunch, we made tuna salad sandwiches on soft white bread. Here’s how Sister Mary Claire makes her tuna salad:One can of tuna, drained

2 tablespoons of mayonnaise

1 tablespoon of finely chopped celery for crunch

1 teaspoon of chopped fresh parsley (if we have it on hand, which today we did)

A dash of lemon juice

Salt and pepper to taste

She mixes it all together and serves it on slices of homemade white bread. The tuna salad is creamy, light, and just a bit tangy from the lemon. It was delicious! I’ll share our recipe for white bread tomorrow.

As the day ends, I’ll offer my evening prayer to the Blessed Virgin Mary, using a prayer by St. Bernard:

"Holy Mary, turn your eyes of mercy toward me; see, in my weakness, my need for your gentle protection. Under your shelter may I find rest, in your guidance may I find strength. Blessed Mary, be my light, and lead me closer to the Kingdom of God."

Goodnight, dear Lord. May your Kingdom grow in my heart.

In Jesus' name, Amen.

Cold Walk and a Lesson in Gratitude

November 13, 1955

Dear Diary,

This morning, Sister and I bundled up and set off for Church under a cold, gray sky. It was 39 degrees, and though most of the snow has melted away, Sister says the ground is acting like a heating pad, keeping the snow from sticking around. The air felt heavy, like it could rain any moment, and even Mini seemed to sense the chill, trotting quickly and glancing up as we walked.

When we reached Church, I handed out the Daily Mass readings while Sister went back to the Sacristy to practice the readings  since she was today’s lector. Today’s Gospel was from Luke, the story of the ten lepers who were healed, though only one returned to thank Jesus. As usual, Mini wanted to follow Sister into the Sacristy, and when I told her to stay with me to greet the parishioners, she obeyed. But she kept her ears down, flat like airplane wings, a signal of her conflicted feelings. She was trying to be obedient but couldn’t quite understand why she couldn’t follow Sister. I could almost see her puzzling it out, a little unsure of what to do.

The Gospel’s message of gratitude stuck with me today. Sister reminded me afterward that we should be grateful for all God gives us, just like the one leper who returned to thank Jesus. It’s easy to forget sometimes, but I’m trying to remember to thank Him for the little things, like having the health to go to Mass or a warm home to come back to.

When we got home, Sister and I made egg salad sandwiches and set up our TV trays in front of the Ashley stove. After the cold walk, it felt wonderful to sit in the warmth, and somehow, the egg salad tasted even better.

Here’s our recipe for egg salad sandwiches:

Egg Salad Sandwiches

• 4 hard-boiled eggs, peeled and chopped

• 2 tablespoons mayonnaise

• 1 teaspoon mustard (Dijon if you like a bit of a kick)

• Salt and pepper to taste

• A sprinkle of chives or parsley for a bit of color (optional)

1. Mash the eggs with a fork, then stir in the mayonnaise and mustard.

2. Season with salt and pepper.

3. Serve on soft bread with a leaf of lettuce, or on toasted bread for some crunch.

As the evening grew colder, we added another piece of wood to the Ashley stove and got ready to turn in. Mini’s already curled up, snug and warm. Before I turn out the lights, here is my prayer for tonight:

“Lord, thank You for the warmth of our home, the love of my sister, and the faithfulness of my little Mini. Help me to be like the one leper who returned to give You thanks, recognizing all the ways You bless my life, even in small ways. Please keep us safe through the night, and let us rise tomorrow with gratitude in our hearts. Amen.”

Goodnight, dear Diary. With gratitude in my heart, I close you up for another day.

With love,

Kathy

Dear Diary

November 12, 1955

Dear Diary,

This morning greeted us with a chill, 38 degrees, and it won’t be much warmer than the 50s today. Cold days like these make for quick sprints to Holy Mass, and I'm grateful to have Sister Mary Claire beside me on the brisk walk there and back. We hurried through the morning chores, and then I was back in the house, cozy and settled with Mini by my side.

After settling in, I reread the Gospel from Mass today, Luke 17:7-10. Sister explained that this passage is about humility and doing God’s work not for recognition but simply because it is what we are meant to do. She told me how we are like the servants in the story, doing what is expected of us and offering our service quietly and faithfully. "When you have done all you have been commanded," Sister recited, "say, 'We are unprofitable servants; we have done what we were obliged to do.'" It made me think about all the little ways I can serve, just like the chores I do around here, or the small acts of kindness I can offer each day.

Later, I started a letter to Vreni, but before I knew it, the day had slipped by, and I felt like ending it with a prayer instead.

Here is my little prayer for tonight:

"Dear Lord, thank you for the warmth that surrounds us this evening, for the hands that provide and care for us, and for this safe, snug home. Bless Sister Mary Claire for her loving guidance and our friends who feel close to us even when they’re far away. Keep us close to you, Lord, in all we do and in the way we serve. Amen."

Everything is tucked in now, and Mini’s already curled up in her spot. Sister's new Ashley wood-burning stove fills the house with such a snug warmth—it feels as though it wraps around us like a cozy quilt. I'll go to bed tonight grateful, knowing we are sheltered and watched over.

Goodnight, Diary.

Kathy

A Letter from Vreni

November 11 1955

Dear Diary,

Today was full of surprises and gentle reminders. After Sister Mary Claire and I got home from Mass, I found a letter from Vreni in the mailbox! Inside, she had included a beautiful drawing she traced from her 1901 prayer book. It was of a girl in prayer, with her hands folded and her head bowed slightly. Vreni wrote that when she saw it, she thought it looked just like me! I felt so honored and a little bit shy, imagining myself in that way, but it made me smile. It’s like Vreni was sending me a reminder to stay close to God and to keep a gentle heart.

Sister Mary Claire also shared a wonderful reflection on today’s Gospel from Luke 17:1-6. She explained that Jesus was teaching His disciples about the seriousness of causing others to stumble into sin. He says it would be better for someone to have a millstone tied around their neck and be thrown into the sea than to lead someone, especially “little ones,” into wrongdoing. Sister said Jesus wants us to be examples of kindness and gentleness, to protect each other from falling away from Him.

But even with this strong warning, Jesus teaches us about forgiveness. Sister Mary Claire reminded me that He calls us to forgive, not just once or twice, but as many times as needed, even seven times in one day. When we forgive, we are showing mercy just like He does, letting go of any anger and trusting in His love to heal us.

When the Apostles asked for more faith, Jesus spoke about how even faith as small as a mustard seed is enough. Sister said that a mustard seed is tiny, but it grows into something large and strong. Jesus was reminding us that even if our faith feels small and weak, it is still precious to Him. With that little faith, we can trust that He will help it grow into something strong and beautiful. Vreni’s picture makes me think of this, too—the girl’s quiet prayer shows that even a small faith, when nurtured, can bring us close to God.

I tucked Vreni’s letter inside my "All for Jesus" book, where I can see it each day. Her drawing will remind me of the kindness Jesus wants us to show others and how He treasures even the smallest faith in our hearts, like a mustard seed that will one day grow tall and sturdy.

With a grateful heart,
Kathy

 

A Sunlit Path to Mass and Mother's Gentle Blessing

Dear Diary,

This morning, the sun was shining so brightly over the new snowfall that it seemed to light up the whole world. The snowplow had been through sometime after we’d gone to bed, and Tom was already out with his tractor, clearing the driveway and making sure the path was clear for us to get to Holy Mass. By the time Sister Mary Claire, Mini, and I bundled up and headed out, the thin layer of snow left by the plow was already melting off the road.

At Mass, Father LeRoy’s homily was on the story of the poor widow in the temple. I couldn’t stop thinking about her two small coins, given from her heart even though they were all she had. Father explained that her gift wasn’t valuable because of the amount but because of her trust in God. She gave without worry, confident in His care, showing us that God sees the love behind our offering, not the size of it.

After Communion, Father read something by St. Bernard about the Blessed Virgin Mary. His words were beautiful, like poetry, describing her as a star of hope, guiding us with her motherly love and gentle example. It felt like a blessing wrapped around us. I knew I had to share it with Vreni. As we left, Father handed me a copy, saying with a smile that he knew I’d ask. He is so thoughtful, always one step ahead!

After lunch, I wrote to Vreni and copied St. Bernard’s words at the end. I’ll send it Monday after Breakfast Club, where I help hand out eggs. It’s become a special Monday routine with the four cousins—Hayden, Caleb, Sasha, and Max—keeping the Breakfast Club running smoothly. Their little shop has such warmth, and it’s a joy to be part of it.

Tonight, the brown hen is back in her coop, snuggled in for the night. With the house quiet, Sister Mary Claire, Mini, and I settled in with my little Swiss radio, letting Bishop Barron’s homily fill the room. His voice and words brought peace to my heart, and sleep came gently as his message lingered in our ears.

Dear Lord, thank You for all the blessings of today—for the light of the sun, the beauty of Holy Mass, and the gentle presence of Your Mother’s Love. Please bless us with restful sleep, that we may wake ready to serve You with hearts full of love and trust. Amen.

All is well, and I am filled with peace,

Kathy

 

A Cozy Blizzard Breakfast

 

Saturday, November 9, 1955

Dear Diary,

The blizzard still rages on, blanketing everything in deep snow. The fence posts are barely visible, and Camp Littlemore feels like it’s hidden under a thick, white quilt. Sister Mary Claire says this storm is bound to go down in the history books, and with church canceled, it’s a blessing we stayed home. The roads are completely covered, and no snow plows have come by. Though it feels strange to be cut off from the world, there’s a cozy sort of peace in our little home, just listening to the wind howl outside.

This morning, Sister read the Gospel from her Daily Roman Missal. The reading from John (2:13-22) spoke of Jesus arriving at the temple in Jerusalem for Passover, only to find it filled with sellers and money-changers. Angered by the disrespect for His Father’s house, Jesus made a whip out of cords and drove them all out, spilling the coins and overturning tables. He said, “Stop making my Father’s house a marketplace.” Sister explained how Jesus’s actions remind us to honor the sacred and keep our hearts focused on God. “Our hearts are temples, too,” she said, “and we need to keep them free from distractions, ready to welcome Him.”

Later, we bundled up and went to check on the animals. My dear brown hen, who’s been our steadfast friend through the storm, didn’t spend the night in the coop. Instead, she was right at the foot of our bed, nestled in the cozy nest we brought in for her. This morning, I reached in and found a beautiful, large brown egg—a thank-you from our brown hen for her warm shelter. Sister said she’d “repaid our hospitality,” and we decided to cook it up for breakfast right away. When we cracked it open, we were delighted to see it was a double-yolker!

We made soft-boiled eggs on toast, the perfect warm comfort on such a chilly morning. Sister added a small pat of that German butter from Kolona Dairy, which melted into the rich yolk, making each bite feel extra special. I even shared a bit with Mini, letting her have one of the yolks. Her little nose twitched with excitement, and she gently licked the yolk, her eyes wide with delight. It’s not often she gets a taste of something so special, and I could tell she felt like a queen for a moment. She looked up at me as if to say, Thank you, and I gave her an extra pat on the head, grateful to have her by my side.

Here’s the recipe we used for our breakfast:

Soft-Boiled Eggs on Toast with Melted Butter

Ingredients:

• 2 fresh eggs (a double-yolker, if you’re lucky!)

• 2 slices of thick, hearty bread (we like to use country or sourdough)

• A small pat of rich German butter (or any good-quality butter)

• Salt and pepper, to taste

Instructions:

1. Fill a small saucepan with enough water to cover the eggs by about an inch. Bring the water to a gentle boil.

2. Gently place the eggs into the water and let them cook for about 5-6 minutes. This will make the whites set but keep the yolks soft and golden.

3. While the eggs cook, toast the bread until it’s golden and crisp.

4. Once done, carefully remove the eggs from the water and let them cool for just a moment.

5. Spread a pat of German butter over each slice of toast, letting it melt into the warm bread.

6. Crack open the eggs and spoon the soft yolks and whites over the buttery toast.

7. Sprinkle with a pinch of salt and pepper to taste.

To serve: Enjoy while still warm. Each bite, with the melted butter and soft egg yolk, is like a cozy hug on a snowy day. If you have a loyal friend like Mini by your side, a little taste for her makes it extra special.

Today was filled with warmth, even in the heart of a blizzard. It’s amazing how the simplest comforts, like a hen’s gift and a shared breakfast, can make us feel close to God’s love.

Dear Lord, thank you for this day, for the love that fills our home, and the blessings of good food shared with those we cherish. May we keep our hearts as sacred as Your temple, always open to welcome You. Amen.