February 20, 1956
Dear Diary,
It was minus 12 degrees when we woke up this morning, and Church was canceled. The roads were slick with ice, and the wind howled around the house like it wanted to get inside. Sister Mary Claire and I stayed bundled up and read the Meditation and Daily Reading from the Magnificat Magazine.
The Meditation was called “Thinking as God Does,” and it came from the last writings of Hanns Georg von Heintschell-Heinegg, a man who was martyred for standing up to the Nazis. His words were so deep, so full of courage, I almost shivered reading them—though maybe that was just the cold creeping in. He wrote about how suffering refines us, how we are like gold in a furnace, burning away everything unimportant so that only what is pure remains. Sister and I talked about how he must have known he was going to die, yet he still believed in hope, in love, in Christ’s victory.
“The higher we climb, and the harder we fight, the more do we participate in the work and struggle of Jesus Christ.”
That part stayed with me all day. It made me think about how even the little struggles—like braving the cold to gather eggs—can be a way of growing stronger, of climbing higher.
Speaking of eggs, going out to the chicken coop has become pretty routine. Mini makes a trip out with me every single time, like a little bodyguard in the frigid weather. Her ears are pinned back against the wind, but she stays right at my side, determined to protect me from who-knows-what.
Omelette, on the other hand, has decided she likes indoor life a little too much. She’s taken up what she seems to think is permanent residence inside, making herself comfortable in the little nest we set up for her by the stove. I think she believes she’s a house hen now. We’ll see how long that lasts!
The day passed quietly after that. I kept thinking about how everything we give, we receive back a hundredfold, just like the Meditation said. Maybe even a prayer whispered in the cold is never wasted.
Dear Jesus,
Thank You for this day, for the quiet moments to think, and for the warmth of home when the world outside is bitter cold.
Please help me to see things as You do, to know that even the smallest struggles are part of something greater. Just as that brave man wrote in his last words, let me be like gold refined in the fire, burning away everything unimportant until only love remains.
Bless Sister Mary Claire, Robert, and everyone who is cold or alone tonight. Watch over the hens in their coop, Mini in her little bed, and even Omelette, who thinks she belongs inside now.
And Jesus, if You will, let me be a knight of Your kingdom, even in the smallest ways.
Amen.
Dear Diary,
It was minus 12 degrees when we woke up this morning, and Church was canceled. The roads were slick with ice, and the wind howled around the house like it wanted to get inside. Sister Mary Claire and I stayed bundled up and read the Meditation and Daily Reading from the Magnificat Magazine.
The Meditation was called “Thinking as God Does,” and it came from the last writings of Hanns Georg von Heintschell-Heinegg, a man who was martyred for standing up to the Nazis. His words were so deep, so full of courage, I almost shivered reading them—though maybe that was just the cold creeping in. He wrote about how suffering refines us, how we are like gold in a furnace, burning away everything unimportant so that only what is pure remains. Sister and I talked about how he must have known he was going to die, yet he still believed in hope, in love, in Christ’s victory.
“The higher we climb, and the harder we fight, the more do we participate in the work and struggle of Jesus Christ.”
That part stayed with me all day. It made me think about how even the little struggles—like braving the cold to gather eggs—can be a way of growing stronger, of climbing higher.
Speaking of eggs, going out to the chicken coop has become pretty routine. Mini makes a trip out with me every single time, like a little bodyguard in the frigid weather. Her ears are pinned back against the wind, but she stays right at my side, determined to protect me from who-knows-what.
Omelette, on the other hand, has decided she likes indoor life a little too much. She’s taken up what she seems to think is permanent residence inside, making herself comfortable in the little nest we set up for her by the stove. I think she believes she’s a house hen now. We’ll see how long that lasts!
The day passed quietly after that. I kept thinking about how everything we give, we receive back a hundredfold, just like the Meditation said. Maybe even a prayer whispered in the cold is never wasted.
Thank You for this day, for the quiet moments to think, and for the warmth of home when the world outside is bitter cold.
Please help me to see things as You do, to know that even the smallest struggles are part of something greater. Just as that brave man wrote in his last words, let me be like gold refined in the fire, burning away everything unimportant until only love remains.
Bless Sister Mary Claire, Robert, and everyone who is cold or alone tonight. Watch over the hens in their coop, Mini in her little bed, and even Omelette, who thinks she belongs inside now.
And Jesus, if You will, let me be a knight of Your kingdom, even in the smallest ways.
Amen.
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