When My Thoughts Found a Voice
March 30, 1956
Dear Diary,
Father LeRoy’s homily this morning was about the multiplication of loaves that fed the 5,000. As he read from the Gospel of St. John, I felt my heart stir. I knew that passage well, but today it felt like I was truly there.
He spoke about how tired Jesus must have been after His long journey with the Apostles, how they had hoped to rest by the lake, but when He saw the crowds, His exhaustion disappeared. He saw their need—and forgot His own. He spoke to them about the Kingdom of God and then, seeing that they had nothing to eat, He performed the miracle. He gave, and gave, and gave again.
As Father LeRoy spoke, I closed my eyes and imagined myself standing among the crowd, the soft golden light washing over the hill. I was holding Mini’s paw—yes, she was right beside me, looking just as amazed as I felt. We were both gazing up at Jesus as He broke the bread and gave it to His Apostles to distribute. The people around us were quiet with wonder, their eyes full of trust and gratitude.
There we stood, two little hearts in a sea of many, and yet I knew—He saw us too. I imagined myself slipping my hand into Sister Mary Claire’s, and the three of us—Mini included—watching as the baskets never emptied. A miracle of love. A miracle of care. A miracle of Jesus' Sacred Heart that thinks of every soul as if it were the only one.
Back at the farm this afternoon, the wind hummed through the trees and the geese clambered around near the barn like they had important places to be. Omelette laid an enormous egg and strutted about so proud of herself. I smiled thinking how even the tiniest things, like a brown hen's morning work, can be a kind of gift when given with love.
Now the sun has gone down, and Mini is curled at the foot of my bed, softly snoring, her squeak ball beside her. Sister Mary Claire lit the lamp on our little prayer table, and we each offered our hearts in silence.
O Jesus, King of hearts, how infinite is Thy goodness, how unbounded Thy power!
Help me to trust like the people on the hillside,
to give like the boy with the loaves,
and to love like Thee, without counting the cost.
Feed my soul, O Lord, with the Bread of Life.
Amen.
With love,
Kathy
Father LeRoy’s homily this morning was about the multiplication of loaves that fed the 5,000. As he read from the Gospel of St. John, I felt my heart stir. I knew that passage well, but today it felt like I was truly there.
He spoke about how tired Jesus must have been after His long journey with the Apostles, how they had hoped to rest by the lake, but when He saw the crowds, His exhaustion disappeared. He saw their need—and forgot His own. He spoke to them about the Kingdom of God and then, seeing that they had nothing to eat, He performed the miracle. He gave, and gave, and gave again.
As Father LeRoy spoke, I closed my eyes and imagined myself standing among the crowd, the soft golden light washing over the hill. I was holding Mini’s paw—yes, she was right beside me, looking just as amazed as I felt. We were both gazing up at Jesus as He broke the bread and gave it to His Apostles to distribute. The people around us were quiet with wonder, their eyes full of trust and gratitude.
There we stood, two little hearts in a sea of many, and yet I knew—He saw us too. I imagined myself slipping my hand into Sister Mary Claire’s, and the three of us—Mini included—watching as the baskets never emptied. A miracle of love. A miracle of care. A miracle of Jesus' Sacred Heart that thinks of every soul as if it were the only one.
Back at the farm this afternoon, the wind hummed through the trees and the geese clambered around near the barn like they had important places to be. Omelette laid an enormous egg and strutted about so proud of herself. I smiled thinking how even the tiniest things, like a brown hen's morning work, can be a kind of gift when given with love.
Now the sun has gone down, and Mini is curled at the foot of my bed, softly snoring, her squeak ball beside her. Sister Mary Claire lit the lamp on our little prayer table, and we each offered our hearts in silence.
O Jesus, King of hearts, how infinite is Thy goodness, how unbounded Thy power!
Help me to trust like the people on the hillside,
to give like the boy with the loaves,
and to love like Thee, without counting the cost.
Feed my soul, O Lord, with the Bread of Life.
Amen.
With love,
Kathy
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