When My Thoughts Found a Voice
April 4, 1956
Dear Diary,
It was another cold morning—just 25 degrees when we stepped outside. Robert came by in his pickup because we had a delivery to make: a full crate of 30 dozen eggs for the Breakfast Club! I was pretty pleased with that—our hens have been steady layers, and it felt good knowing those eggs would go to feed neighbors and friends. Robert gently placed the crate in the back of his truck and tucked it in with a warm blanket. “Like tucking in a baby,” he said with a wink.
We all rode together to church. Mass was peaceful, and Father LeRoy gave a homily that echoed the meditation Sister and I had been reading—about Jesus being crowned with thorns and mocked. My heart always feels tight during that part. It’s hard to imagine anyone being so cruel, and even harder to think of Jesus letting it happen for our sake.
After Mass, we drove to the Breakfast Club. Robert carried the heavy crate inside like it was nothing, and the kitchen staff clapped when they saw how many eggs we brought. Then we spotted the cousins—Sasha, Max, Hayden, and Caleb—all sitting at their usual table by the woodstove. Their faces lit up when they saw us, and we couldn’t help but grin too. Max waved us over and said, “You're just in time—the special is waffles and eggs!”
That made our choice easy. We all ordered the special and warmed up with good food and good talk. The homily stayed on our minds. Robert said softly, “It’s something, thinking about how Jesus just stood there while they mocked Him. He could’ve stopped them.” Sister Mary Claire said, “That’s the part that always humbles me—He had every power in Heaven and still chose love over revenge.” I nodded and didn’t say much, but the truth of it sat deep in my chest.
Later in the afternoon, I went down to the cave by myself. I brought a candle and lit it near the little stone where I sometimes sit. The light flickered on the walls as I thought about Jesus—the thorns, the reed, the purple robe. I imagined Mary nearby, her eyes filled with sorrow but never turning away. That’s the kind of love I want to grow inside me: the kind that stays.
Dear Jesus,
Thank You for the love that let You suffer without striking back. Thank You for showing us what true strength looks like. Please help me stay with You, even when it’s hard.
And dear Mary, help my heart be like yours—quiet, kind, and always turning toward Jesus.
Amen.
We all rode together to church. Mass was peaceful, and Father LeRoy gave a homily that echoed the meditation Sister and I had been reading—about Jesus being crowned with thorns and mocked. My heart always feels tight during that part. It’s hard to imagine anyone being so cruel, and even harder to think of Jesus letting it happen for our sake.
After Mass, we drove to the Breakfast Club. Robert carried the heavy crate inside like it was nothing, and the kitchen staff clapped when they saw how many eggs we brought. Then we spotted the cousins—Sasha, Max, Hayden, and Caleb—all sitting at their usual table by the woodstove. Their faces lit up when they saw us, and we couldn’t help but grin too. Max waved us over and said, “You're just in time—the special is waffles and eggs!”
That made our choice easy. We all ordered the special and warmed up with good food and good talk. The homily stayed on our minds. Robert said softly, “It’s something, thinking about how Jesus just stood there while they mocked Him. He could’ve stopped them.” Sister Mary Claire said, “That’s the part that always humbles me—He had every power in Heaven and still chose love over revenge.” I nodded and didn’t say much, but the truth of it sat deep in my chest.
Later in the afternoon, I went down to the cave by myself. I brought a candle and lit it near the little stone where I sometimes sit. The light flickered on the walls as I thought about Jesus—the thorns, the reed, the purple robe. I imagined Mary nearby, her eyes filled with sorrow but never turning away. That’s the kind of love I want to grow inside me: the kind that stays.
Dear Jesus,
Thank You for the love that let You suffer without striking back. Thank You for showing us what true strength looks like. Please help me stay with You, even when it’s hard.
And dear Mary, help my heart be like yours—quiet, kind, and always turning toward Jesus.
Amen.
Meditations on Christian Dogma