Dear Diary,
Church was canceled today. The wind howled and the snow blew so fiercely that there was no one on the roads—everything was blocked. But Sister Mary Claire, Mini, and I were safe inside the house. I had brought Omelette in last night, and she’s been scratching in the straw inside her box near the stove, content and warm. I keep glancing at her, thinking she looks just as settled as we are, waiting out the storm.
This morning, before breakfast, Sister and I read from our meditation book. It was about the trial of Jesus before Caiaphas—when He was struck by a servant and asked, “Why strikest thou Me?” It made my heart ache to think of how meekly Our Lord endured such cruelty. Then, while we ate poached eggs and toast, Sister explained the meditation to me. Somehow, it fit the mood of the day—outdoors, the storm raged, strong and merciless, but inside, we were safe, reflecting on something deeper, something greater.
Today is the Feast of Saint Joseph. Sister reminded me that Saint Joseph was a protector, a provider. Even in a blizzard like this, it feels like his day. We are safe inside our home, warm and fed, while outside, the world is wild and frozen over. I imagined Saint Joseph leading the Holy Family through bitter winds, keeping them safe, just as he always did.
After breakfast, I spent some time working on my scrapbook and reading. The storm outside made time feel slower, almost as if the whole world was paused. Mini napped on the rug, but every now and then, she’d lift her head when the wind howled too fiercely.
Now, as night falls and the wind still rattles the windows, I write this little prayer:
“O Saint Joseph, strong and faithful,
Guardian of the Holy Family,
Shelter us as you sheltered Mary and Jesus.
Keep us warm in the bitter wind,
Safe in the storms of life,
And steadfast in love for Our Lord.
May we rest in the peace of your care tonight.
Amen.”
Goodnight, dear diary. May Saint Joseph watch over us all.
Church was canceled today. The wind howled and the snow blew so fiercely that there was no one on the roads—everything was blocked. But Sister Mary Claire, Mini, and I were safe inside the house. I had brought Omelette in last night, and she’s been scratching in the straw inside her box near the stove, content and warm. I keep glancing at her, thinking she looks just as settled as we are, waiting out the storm.
This morning, before breakfast, Sister and I read from our meditation book. It was about the trial of Jesus before Caiaphas—when He was struck by a servant and asked, “Why strikest thou Me?” It made my heart ache to think of how meekly Our Lord endured such cruelty. Then, while we ate poached eggs and toast, Sister explained the meditation to me. Somehow, it fit the mood of the day—outdoors, the storm raged, strong and merciless, but inside, we were safe, reflecting on something deeper, something greater.
Today is the Feast of Saint Joseph. Sister reminded me that Saint Joseph was a protector, a provider. Even in a blizzard like this, it feels like his day. We are safe inside our home, warm and fed, while outside, the world is wild and frozen over. I imagined Saint Joseph leading the Holy Family through bitter winds, keeping them safe, just as he always did.
After breakfast, I spent some time working on my scrapbook and reading. The storm outside made time feel slower, almost as if the whole world was paused. Mini napped on the rug, but every now and then, she’d lift her head when the wind howled too fiercely.
Now, as night falls and the wind still rattles the windows, I write this little prayer:
“O Saint Joseph, strong and faithful,
Guardian of the Holy Family,
Shelter us as you sheltered Mary and Jesus.
Keep us warm in the bitter wind,
Safe in the storms of life,
And steadfast in love for Our Lord.
May we rest in the peace of your care tonight.
Amen.”
Goodnight, dear diary. May Saint Joseph watch over us all.
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