March 18, 1956
Dear Diary,
This morning, Robert picked us up for church, and the moment we stepped inside, everyone was talking about a blizzard moving in. A radio flash had warned of it, and folks were already making preparations. The men near the back of the church murmured about the wind shifting and how the air already had a bite to it. The women spoke about baking extra bread and making sure the lamps were filled with kerosene in case the electricity went out. Sister Mary Claire and I listened quietly, though I could tell she was already thinking about our wood supply and how we should bring in more from the woodshed before the wind and snow.
Once Mass began, the talk of the storm quieted, and Father LeRoy gave his homily on Jesus appearing before the high priest. He read from St. John’s Gospel:
"And they led Him away to Annas first, for he was the father-in-law to Caiphas, who was the high priest that year." (John 18:13)
He told us to imagine Jesus, hands bound, walking through the cold streets of Jerusalem after the long hours of agony in the garden. Judas had betrayed Him, His apostles had fled, and now He stood before Annas, exhausted and alone. They scorned Him, accused Him falsely, and struck Him, yet He did not defend Himself. Father Leroy reminded us that Jesus bore all this suffering with patience, for love of us, and we are called to imitate His patience in our own trials.
I thought about how the same people who had cheered for Him on Palm Sunday now turned against Him. How easy it is for people to change when things get hard! Father said we must remain steadfast in our faith, even when others waver, and remember that suffering borne with love unites us to Christ.
After church, Robert wanted to hurry home and get the cattle off the corn stalks and into the barn. He had a lot of work ahead—tightening things down, making sure the barn doors were buckled up tight before the wind started howling. He said, "It’ll be a mean one. Best have everything settled before dark tonight."
Back at home, Sister Mary Claire and I made our own preparations. I helped her bring in extra wood from the woodshed, stacking it near the stove where it would stay dry. The wind was already picking up as the sun set, rattling the trees outside, and a deep chill settled in the air. I thought about Shaggycoat, but I knew he was safe and warm in his lodge. His home was well-protected, with a deep water entrance that no wind or drifting snow could reach. It stuck up out of Indian Creek like a sturdy teepee, built strong with mud and sticks. Shaggycoat was always prepared. A blizzard and cold snap didn’t trouble him one bit—his thick fur and snug lodge kept him well sheltered from any storm.
"O Lord, as this storm comes, I pray for all my neighbors, that they may be safe and warm. I pray for the livestock, that they may be protected in their barns and shelters. And most of all, dear God, I pray for the animals in the wild, those who have no warm place to hide from the wind and snow. Send them shelter, O Lord, and guide them to safety. Amen."
Goodnight, dear Diary. The storm is coming.
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