🌿When my words found a voice🌿
Dear Diary,
This morning started out chilly again, the kind that sneaks through your sleeves and makes your shoulders hunch up. We were standing by the mailbox waiting for Robert, who was a little late in his pickup. I noticed the cold more than usual today. Sister Mary Claire had her meditation book tucked under her arm and her hands tucked into her sleeves. Mini was busy investigating an old culvert nearby—something inside must’ve caught her nose because she wouldn’t leave it alone.
When Robert finally pulled up, we climbed in and were off to church. The pickup was warm, and Sister sat with her book in her lap, already opened to today’s meditation: Mary at the Foot of the Cross. It felt quiet on the drive. Maybe we were all thinking about what that really meant.
We got there a little early. Robert tossed some pinecones and a small log into the stove, just enough to take the edge off the cold without making it too hot since the day would warm up. Then we sat together in one of the pews, and Sister read aloud. The meditation said Mary stood there without comfort or relief, hearing Jesus cry out in thirst and unable to help Him. She was pierced by sorrow, just like Simeon said she would be. Her heart was like no other heart on earth, full of the kind of love that suffers deeply. I tried to imagine how she felt, and for a moment, I could.
Father Leroy’s homily followed the very same meditation. He read from Lamentations: “To what shall I compare thee, O daughter of Jerusalem?” It felt like he was describing a sorrow so wide and deep that no words could hold it. I looked over at Sister and Robert. We didn’t say much—just listened.
Later this afternoon, I walked down to the cave with Mini and my little scrapbook. I stepped past the grotto and into my hidden room—the one I call mine. I laid down for just a minute, with my scrapbook beside me, and before I knew it, I had fallen fast asleep. When I woke up, my candle had burned out and the light was soft and dim. Mini gave a quiet yip, and we hurried back up to the house before supper.
O Mary, teach me to stand with you in love and sorrow at the foot of His Cross. Amen.
Love,
Kathy
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