All for Love

February 26, 1956

Dear Diary,

I woke this morning to the deep, rumbling sound of the snowplow scraping along the road to St. Mary’s. It pulled me from a deep slumber, the kind where dreams still linger, and I just lay there for a moment, listening. Soon, Robert would come with his tractor and snow loader to clear the yard.  It’s always a comfort knowing Robert will come making sure we’re not snowed in for too long.

After getting up, I hurried through my morning chores, bracing against the cold as I gathered eggs from the chicken house. Omelette, who was now back with her sisters,  gave me her usual knowing look, and I spoke to her softly before heading back inside, where the kitchen was warm and filled with the smell of coffee.

Sister read the meditation on the supper at Bethany while we ate breakfast. My oatmeal had a bit of brown sugar, butter melting into golden swirls, and whole milk. Mini had her own little dish, just oatmeal and cream. She dove right in happy as ever.

As I listened to Sister, I thought about Mary Magdalene kneeling before Jesus, breaking her alabaster jar and pouring the precious ointment over His head and feet. She didn’t hesitate, didn’t care about what others thought—she gave everything in an act of pure love. Judas called it wasteful, but Sister explained that when we truly love, we don’t measure, we just give.

Later, I worked on my scrapbook. I had found a beautiful picture of the supper at Bethany, and I carefully pasted it onto a fresh page. Mary Magdalene is kneeling before Jesus, her golden hair falling over her shoulders, looking up at Him with love and devotion. Jesus raises His hand gently, while the men around them watch—some with wonder, others with judgment.

I wanted to add something special to the page, so I took a small piece of See Through tape and, in my neatest handwriting, wrote “She gave all for Love” on it. I placed it carefully at the top of the image. It felt just right, like it belonged there. A reminder that true love doesn’t hold back, doesn’t count the cost—it gives everything.

The rest of the day went on as usual—chores, tidying, and watching Robert clear the yard. When he saw me looking out the window, he gave a little wave, and I waved back, thankful for all he does.

Tonight, before bed, we knelt together and prayed Sister Hilda's prayer that she added to the meditation:

“Mary, Mother of Divine Love, turn thine eyes of mercy towards me. O Mary Immaculate! Make my heart like unto thine, then, I shall be able to see Jesus, and from seeing Him, to know and love Him. Mother, I have need of thee. Give me to Jesus!”

Amen.

Love Kathy