🌿 When my words found a voice 🌿
April 5, 1956
Dear Diary,
It feels like March again, and I’ve just about had it with the weather. I keep hoping to step outside and smell spring, but everything still looks tired and brown. Easter is only two weeks away, and yet the world feels like it’s stuck in the last bits of winter. I imagined the soft grass by now, and tulips pushing up through the soil, and Mini rolling over onto her back in the sunshine. But no—gray skies again, and wind that nips at your cheeks.
Sister Mary Claire noticed how restless I was and suggested we read today’s meditation together. It was the one about Pilate showing Jesus to the crowd—“Behold the Man.” I could hardly sit still while she read aloud, because my imagination just takes over when I hear those words. I could see His face, so bruised and gentle, His eyes full of love even though He was mocked and bleeding. Sometimes I wonder if it’s too much, having such a strong imagination. The pictures in my mind don’t go away easily. I see Jesus standing there and it hurts—it really hurts.
But Sister Mary Claire says maybe that’s part of the gift—to stay with Him, even when it’s hard. Not to turn away.
I needed quiet after that, so I took Mini and walked down to the creek. Just as we reached the edge, I heard a big splash—Shaggy Coat! He was diving and paddling, like he’d just been waiting for company. Mini barked happily, her ears up and wiggling all over. I sat on a rock and let the moment stay with me: the splash, the wind, and the thought of Jesus, so alone in the crowd, yet so full of love.
Afterward, I felt the pull to go into the cave.
I brought my scrapbook with me and lit a little candle, just one. It flickered softly on the stone wall as I opened to the pages I needed. There was Jesus with His Blessed Mother—both of them smiling in a way that filled the whole cave with warmth. That picture always helps me. It reminds me that suffering wasn’t the end of His story. Love was.
I sat there in the hush for a while, Mini curled beside me, the candlelight dancing on the pages. But before long, it was time to blow it out—Robert would be picking us up for vigil Mass soon, and I didn’t want to keep him waiting. I gave Mini’s ear a rub and whispered a thank-you to Jesus for meeting me in such a quiet, lovely way.
O Jesus, my gentle Savior,
When I picture You crowned with thorns,
my heart trembles and aches.
But You didn’t turn away from that pain,
so help me not to turn away either.
Let my imagination, even when it hurts,
draw me closer to You and not into fear.
Thank You for meeting me today—
in the pages of my scrapbook,
in the stillness of the cave,
and even in Shaggy Coat’s splash.
Let the love You showed in Your silence
fill my heart so that I may be more like You.
Tonight and always, stay close, Lord.
Amen.
Love,
Kathy
It feels like March again, and I’ve just about had it with the weather. I keep hoping to step outside and smell spring, but everything still looks tired and brown. Easter is only two weeks away, and yet the world feels like it’s stuck in the last bits of winter. I imagined the soft grass by now, and tulips pushing up through the soil, and Mini rolling over onto her back in the sunshine. But no—gray skies again, and wind that nips at your cheeks.
Sister Mary Claire noticed how restless I was and suggested we read today’s meditation together. It was the one about Pilate showing Jesus to the crowd—“Behold the Man.” I could hardly sit still while she read aloud, because my imagination just takes over when I hear those words. I could see His face, so bruised and gentle, His eyes full of love even though He was mocked and bleeding. Sometimes I wonder if it’s too much, having such a strong imagination. The pictures in my mind don’t go away easily. I see Jesus standing there and it hurts—it really hurts.
But Sister Mary Claire says maybe that’s part of the gift—to stay with Him, even when it’s hard. Not to turn away.
I needed quiet after that, so I took Mini and walked down to the creek. Just as we reached the edge, I heard a big splash—Shaggy Coat! He was diving and paddling, like he’d just been waiting for company. Mini barked happily, her ears up and wiggling all over. I sat on a rock and let the moment stay with me: the splash, the wind, and the thought of Jesus, so alone in the crowd, yet so full of love.
Afterward, I felt the pull to go into the cave.
I brought my scrapbook with me and lit a little candle, just one. It flickered softly on the stone wall as I opened to the pages I needed. There was Jesus with His Blessed Mother—both of them smiling in a way that filled the whole cave with warmth. That picture always helps me. It reminds me that suffering wasn’t the end of His story. Love was.
I sat there in the hush for a while, Mini curled beside me, the candlelight dancing on the pages. But before long, it was time to blow it out—Robert would be picking us up for vigil Mass soon, and I didn’t want to keep him waiting. I gave Mini’s ear a rub and whispered a thank-you to Jesus for meeting me in such a quiet, lovely way.
O Jesus, my gentle Savior,
When I picture You crowned with thorns,
my heart trembles and aches.
But You didn’t turn away from that pain,
so help me not to turn away either.
Let my imagination, even when it hurts,
draw me closer to You and not into fear.
Thank You for meeting me today—
in the pages of my scrapbook,
in the stillness of the cave,
and even in Shaggy Coat’s splash.
Let the love You showed in Your silence
fill my heart so that I may be more like You.
Tonight and always, stay close, Lord.
Amen.
Love,
Kathy
No comments:
Post a Comment