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Sunday, November 17, 2024

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





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