Deep Dive with Marcus & Renie
Dear Diary
It was only 26 degrees this morning, but Robert came by in his pickup and gave Sister Mary Claire, Mini, and me a ride to church. Mini rode on Sister’s lap like she belonged there, cozy and content. The windows fogged up, and everything outside looked like it had been dusted in powdered sugar.
At Mass, Father LeRoy spoke about Jesus’ suffering, especially that lonely night in the prison. It made my mind wander to a letter I had read in The Catholic Globe, the one Sister gets each month from Des Moines. A man named Brian had written it from prison—a letter straight to Jesus. I had pasted it into the back of my scrapbook, but today I want it here, where I can read it again and pray over it.
Dear Jesus,
I always knew You existed. I’m a sixty-one-year-old man doing life fifteen. I’m twenty-one years in. I wish, in my younger days, when mom asked me to go to church with her, I would have gone. I always said to her, “Maybe next week,” but it never happened.
All my life, when I called upon You, You were there, and I love You for being there when I needed You. I’ve been lost so many years by drinking. I drank whenever I could get it, and that led me to steal to supply my habit. I lost a lot of jobs over the years because of drinking.
Jesus, I was offered a job on a ranch in British Columbia, Canada. I worked there two years, and one day he said to me, “Brian, throw away the beer can for one year and I’ll make sure you own my ranch.” But I couldn’t throw away the beer can.
I drank because one day I got married, and six months later, I caught my wife running around on me. When my wife left me, I drank even more. Now, looking back on the things I lost and the things I did while I was drinking almost makes me sick.
Jesus, when I came to prison, I swallowed three razor blades because I didn’t want to live. But, like always, You were there. I had lost all hope, but for some reason, You kept me alive. Now I think I know why. I believe You wanted me to know You better than before. I can’t leave my cell without praying to You first. You protected me while I’ve been here.
I’m going on twenty-one years inside because Satan led me astray. But, like always, You kept coming back to save me. Without Your love and forgiveness, I wouldn’t be writing this letter.
Jesus, about twelve years ago, I gave my heart to You and I was baptized in Your name. Through all the years inside, I’ve studied Your Word. I live and breathe because of You. Jesus, You showed me a love that I’ve never known. When everyone let me down, You were there to pick up the pieces. My days revolve around You.
I’ll never drink again because I lost so much while drinking. But, by living by Your Word, You gave me strength to get from one day to the next. I still fight against Satan, and he’s always around. But Jesus, I know in my heart You’ll drive Satan away so I can make it through each and every day. I’ll love You and follow You ‘til the day I die.
Your faithful servant,
Brian
Later, once the sun had warmed things a little, Mini and I brought the scrapbook down to the John Hathaway room in the cave by the creek. I said my prayers at the grotto and dipped a little jar into the spring. I’ll take it to Mass tomorrow and ask Father to bless it. Then I’ll bring it home and use it to bless Sister Mary Claire and Mini.
Evening Prayer:
It was only 26 degrees this morning, but Robert came by in his pickup and gave Sister Mary Claire, Mini, and me a ride to church. Mini rode on Sister’s lap like she belonged there, cozy and content. The windows fogged up, and everything outside looked like it had been dusted in powdered sugar.
At Mass, Father LeRoy spoke about Jesus’ suffering, especially that lonely night in the prison. It made my mind wander to a letter I had read in The Catholic Globe, the one Sister gets each month from Des Moines. A man named Brian had written it from prison—a letter straight to Jesus. I had pasted it into the back of my scrapbook, but today I want it here, where I can read it again and pray over it.
Dear Jesus,
I always knew You existed. I’m a sixty-one-year-old man doing life fifteen. I’m twenty-one years in. I wish, in my younger days, when mom asked me to go to church with her, I would have gone. I always said to her, “Maybe next week,” but it never happened.
All my life, when I called upon You, You were there, and I love You for being there when I needed You. I’ve been lost so many years by drinking. I drank whenever I could get it, and that led me to steal to supply my habit. I lost a lot of jobs over the years because of drinking.
Jesus, I was offered a job on a ranch in British Columbia, Canada. I worked there two years, and one day he said to me, “Brian, throw away the beer can for one year and I’ll make sure you own my ranch.” But I couldn’t throw away the beer can.
I drank because one day I got married, and six months later, I caught my wife running around on me. When my wife left me, I drank even more. Now, looking back on the things I lost and the things I did while I was drinking almost makes me sick.
Jesus, when I came to prison, I swallowed three razor blades because I didn’t want to live. But, like always, You were there. I had lost all hope, but for some reason, You kept me alive. Now I think I know why. I believe You wanted me to know You better than before. I can’t leave my cell without praying to You first. You protected me while I’ve been here.
I’m going on twenty-one years inside because Satan led me astray. But, like always, You kept coming back to save me. Without Your love and forgiveness, I wouldn’t be writing this letter.
Jesus, about twelve years ago, I gave my heart to You and I was baptized in Your name. Through all the years inside, I’ve studied Your Word. I live and breathe because of You. Jesus, You showed me a love that I’ve never known. When everyone let me down, You were there to pick up the pieces. My days revolve around You.
I’ll never drink again because I lost so much while drinking. But, by living by Your Word, You gave me strength to get from one day to the next. I still fight against Satan, and he’s always around. But Jesus, I know in my heart You’ll drive Satan away so I can make it through each and every day. I’ll love You and follow You ‘til the day I die.
Your faithful servant,
Brian
Later, once the sun had warmed things a little, Mini and I brought the scrapbook down to the John Hathaway room in the cave by the creek. I said my prayers at the grotto and dipped a little jar into the spring. I’ll take it to Mass tomorrow and ask Father to bless it. Then I’ll bring it home and use it to bless Sister Mary Claire and Mini.
Evening Prayer:
Dear Jesus, I thought about You today in that cold, dark prison. And I thought of Brian, who found You there, even after so much pain. Let me never take for granted Your mercy, or the love that keeps chasing us. Bless the water from the spring, and make it holy with Your touch. Amen.
With love,
Kathy
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