Mary 7, 1956
Dear Diary,
Robert picked us up just as the sun was coming up, and the gravel was still damp from the night. Sister Mary Claire had her Meditation Book in her lap, already opened to today’s reading, and we read it together on the way to church. She read aloud that gentle question Jesus asked: “What are these discourses you hold one with another, as you walk, and are sad?” It was spoken to the two disciples on their way to Emmaus, but I thought how He could just as easily ask that of me.
Robert, who hadn’t even looked back at the road yet, said, “Seems like our Lord wants us to talk about things that lift the heart, not drag it down.” Then he added, “And don’t forget, it’s May—the month of Our Blessed Mother. Maybe our conversations should include her more too.” I liked that. I told him I had already picked some violets and tucked them near the little statue of Mary in our room. Sister smiled at me and squeezed my hand.
The meditation was all about what we say, and how our words reveal our hearts. I thought about that a lot during Mass. Do I always say kind things? Do I speak like someone who belongs to Jesus? Father LeRoy talked about how even correction, when it’s done with love, is a gift. That part reminded me of when Sister Mary Claire once told me I had spoken too sharply to Mini when she was just trying to get my attention. At first I had wanted to cry, but later I knew Sister was right. Mini’s a little soul, and so am I.
After Mass, we didn’t say much on the ride home. It was one of those silences that feels peaceful and full, like we were still walking with Jesus in our hearts like the two disciples. Sister said the Lord may be hidden sometimes, but He’s always with us, especially in Holy Communion and good counsel.
I want to speak better, and think better thoughts. Even if I mess up, I want to start over and over again, like the meditation said—with redoubled fervor. Maybe if I listen carefully, I’ll hear Him speak to me too, not with my ears, but somewhere deeper.
O Jesus, help me keep my words gentle and true. Let my thoughts be filled with You and Your Mother. If I forget, remind me kindly. I want to walk with You, even when I don’t see You.
Amen.
Love,
Kathy
Robert picked us up just as the sun was coming up, and the gravel was still damp from the night. Sister Mary Claire had her Meditation Book in her lap, already opened to today’s reading, and we read it together on the way to church. She read aloud that gentle question Jesus asked: “What are these discourses you hold one with another, as you walk, and are sad?” It was spoken to the two disciples on their way to Emmaus, but I thought how He could just as easily ask that of me.
Robert, who hadn’t even looked back at the road yet, said, “Seems like our Lord wants us to talk about things that lift the heart, not drag it down.” Then he added, “And don’t forget, it’s May—the month of Our Blessed Mother. Maybe our conversations should include her more too.” I liked that. I told him I had already picked some violets and tucked them near the little statue of Mary in our room. Sister smiled at me and squeezed my hand.
The meditation was all about what we say, and how our words reveal our hearts. I thought about that a lot during Mass. Do I always say kind things? Do I speak like someone who belongs to Jesus? Father LeRoy talked about how even correction, when it’s done with love, is a gift. That part reminded me of when Sister Mary Claire once told me I had spoken too sharply to Mini when she was just trying to get my attention. At first I had wanted to cry, but later I knew Sister was right. Mini’s a little soul, and so am I.
After Mass, we didn’t say much on the ride home. It was one of those silences that feels peaceful and full, like we were still walking with Jesus in our hearts like the two disciples. Sister said the Lord may be hidden sometimes, but He’s always with us, especially in Holy Communion and good counsel.
I want to speak better, and think better thoughts. Even if I mess up, I want to start over and over again, like the meditation said—with redoubled fervor. Maybe if I listen carefully, I’ll hear Him speak to me too, not with my ears, but somewhere deeper.
O Jesus, help me keep my words gentle and true. Let my thoughts be filled with You and Your Mother. If I forget, remind me kindly. I want to walk with You, even when I don’t see You.
Amen.
Love,
Kathy
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