December 25, 1955
Dear Diary,
This morning, Sister Mary Claire and I walked home from St. Mary’s after the most beautiful Christmas Mass. The sun had just risen, casting a golden light over the frosty fields, and everything felt so still and holy, as if the whole world was quietly rejoicing in the birth of our Savior.
As we walked, I couldn’t help but ask Sister what it must have been like on the night Jesus was born. “What was it like to see Him in the manger, Sister? What must Mary and Joseph have felt?”
Sister Mary Claire smiled softly and looked ahead toward the grove near the house. “Do you remember the old garage in the grove, Kathy? The one covered with limbs and branches?”
I nodded, picturing the leaning structure, its roof dappled with light that filtered through the trees.
“Imagine that as the stable in Bethlehem,” she said, her voice gentle but full of wonder. “Picture its rough wooden walls, the smell of hay, and the quiet hum of animals. And there, in the humblest of places, lies the newborn Jesus. His tiny body is wrapped in swaddling clothes, and He rests in a crib of hay surrounded by angels.
I could almost see it—Baby Jesus, so small, so fragile, yet full of divine power and love. I thought of the words I had read in my prayer book during Advent: “This Child is the eternal Word made flesh, Who fills heaven and earth, yet chooses to humble Himself to be born in a stable.”
Sister Mary Claire continued, “This Child came into the world not with grandeur but in perfect poverty and humility. Imagine offering your own heart to Him, Kathy, as a place of warmth and welcome, just like that little stable.”
As we reached the house, I felt a deep peace in my heart. Sister’s words made Bethlehem feel so close, as if Jesus was right here with us, even now.
Before I went to help with breakfast, Sister and I paused for a moment to pray together. I whispered a prayer from my book:
Morning Christmas Prayer
“Behold, my soul, how the Heart of the Christ-Child burns with love for you. Will you not finally begin to love Jesus, Who has so loved you? O Mary and Joseph, give me of the fire of your love, that I may celebrate this mystery in a worthy manner. Let us hasten to the crib of Bethlehem and offer ourselves as an oblation to the Infant Savior. Then the peace which the angels announced will fill our hearts and we shall partake in the fullest measure of the graces and blessings which the Infant Savior so gladly bestows on well-prepared hearts.”
Mini greeted us at the door with her little squeaky ball, wagging her bottom happily. Everything about this morning feels special, as if the stable of Bethlehem is not so far away after all.
Merry Christmas, dear Diary.
With love,
Kathy
This morning, Sister Mary Claire and I walked home from St. Mary’s after the most beautiful Christmas Mass. The sun had just risen, casting a golden light over the frosty fields, and everything felt so still and holy, as if the whole world was quietly rejoicing in the birth of our Savior.
As we walked, I couldn’t help but ask Sister what it must have been like on the night Jesus was born. “What was it like to see Him in the manger, Sister? What must Mary and Joseph have felt?”
Sister Mary Claire smiled softly and looked ahead toward the grove near the house. “Do you remember the old garage in the grove, Kathy? The one covered with limbs and branches?”
I nodded, picturing the leaning structure, its roof dappled with light that filtered through the trees.
“Imagine that as the stable in Bethlehem,” she said, her voice gentle but full of wonder. “Picture its rough wooden walls, the smell of hay, and the quiet hum of animals. And there, in the humblest of places, lies the newborn Jesus. His tiny body is wrapped in swaddling clothes, and He rests in a crib of hay surrounded by angels.
I could almost see it—Baby Jesus, so small, so fragile, yet full of divine power and love. I thought of the words I had read in my prayer book during Advent: “This Child is the eternal Word made flesh, Who fills heaven and earth, yet chooses to humble Himself to be born in a stable.”
Sister Mary Claire continued, “This Child came into the world not with grandeur but in perfect poverty and humility. Imagine offering your own heart to Him, Kathy, as a place of warmth and welcome, just like that little stable.”
As we reached the house, I felt a deep peace in my heart. Sister’s words made Bethlehem feel so close, as if Jesus was right here with us, even now.
Before I went to help with breakfast, Sister and I paused for a moment to pray together. I whispered a prayer from my book:
Morning Christmas Prayer
“Behold, my soul, how the Heart of the Christ-Child burns with love for you. Will you not finally begin to love Jesus, Who has so loved you? O Mary and Joseph, give me of the fire of your love, that I may celebrate this mystery in a worthy manner. Let us hasten to the crib of Bethlehem and offer ourselves as an oblation to the Infant Savior. Then the peace which the angels announced will fill our hearts and we shall partake in the fullest measure of the graces and blessings which the Infant Savior so gladly bestows on well-prepared hearts.”
Mini greeted us at the door with her little squeaky ball, wagging her bottom happily. Everything about this morning feels special, as if the stable of Bethlehem is not so far away after all.
Merry Christmas, dear Diary.
With love,
Kathy
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