Dear Diary
Robert came early tonight—just before the sun started dipping low—and tapped lightly on the back screen door. Mini let out her little bark and trotted over to greet him. Sister Mary Claire called out, “Come in, Robert, we’re just getting ready to read,” and he stepped in with his hat in hand and that quiet way he has when he knows something important is about to happen.
We all sat around the kitchen table while Sister opened the Meditation Book. The window was cracked just enough to let in the fresh May air. Sister read slowly and clearly, and I folded my hands in my lap and listened with all my heart.
The meditation was about Peter and John hurrying to the tomb after Mary Magdalen told them Jesus was gone. They didn’t wait or argue or doubt—they just ran. That line—“and they both ran together”—stuck with me. They loved Jesus so much, they didn’t stop to think. John got there first, but he didn’t go in. He waited for Peter, even though Peter had denied the Lord just days before. That’s what love and respect look like.
Robert said something soft but strong: “John still honored Peter’s place, because he knew who gave it to him.” Sister nodded and said that a holy community is made of people who lift each other up—who make it easier for others to be faithful, not harder. I liked that. It made me think of our little life here—the way we each do our part, even when it’s not perfect. It still feels like something sacred.
We got to church just as the light was beginning to dim. Robert drove us in the pickup with Mini nestled between us, half-asleep. Father LeRoy’s homily was on the very same meditation. He talked about zeal, and how love should make us move quickly toward God. But also how patience and humility—like John waiting for Peter—show just as much love.
After Mass, the stars were already blinking above the tree line. It was quiet in the pickup, but Robert smiled when he dropped us off and said, “Let’s keep running toward Him.”
Now the house is hushed. Mini is curled in her blanket. Sister is tidying up in the kitchen. I’m writing this by lamplight, thinking about the way John stood outside the tomb—not to be first, but to be faithful.
Dear Jesus,
Make me quick to love and brave to follow You. Help me wait when I need to, and trust the ones You’ve placed in my life. Let our home be full of respect, kindness, and warmth like that fire of faith we read about. I want to run toward You—and help others run too. Amen.
Love,
Kathy
Robert came early tonight—just before the sun started dipping low—and tapped lightly on the back screen door. Mini let out her little bark and trotted over to greet him. Sister Mary Claire called out, “Come in, Robert, we’re just getting ready to read,” and he stepped in with his hat in hand and that quiet way he has when he knows something important is about to happen.
We all sat around the kitchen table while Sister opened the Meditation Book. The window was cracked just enough to let in the fresh May air. Sister read slowly and clearly, and I folded my hands in my lap and listened with all my heart.
The meditation was about Peter and John hurrying to the tomb after Mary Magdalen told them Jesus was gone. They didn’t wait or argue or doubt—they just ran. That line—“and they both ran together”—stuck with me. They loved Jesus so much, they didn’t stop to think. John got there first, but he didn’t go in. He waited for Peter, even though Peter had denied the Lord just days before. That’s what love and respect look like.
Robert said something soft but strong: “John still honored Peter’s place, because he knew who gave it to him.” Sister nodded and said that a holy community is made of people who lift each other up—who make it easier for others to be faithful, not harder. I liked that. It made me think of our little life here—the way we each do our part, even when it’s not perfect. It still feels like something sacred.
We got to church just as the light was beginning to dim. Robert drove us in the pickup with Mini nestled between us, half-asleep. Father LeRoy’s homily was on the very same meditation. He talked about zeal, and how love should make us move quickly toward God. But also how patience and humility—like John waiting for Peter—show just as much love.
After Mass, the stars were already blinking above the tree line. It was quiet in the pickup, but Robert smiled when he dropped us off and said, “Let’s keep running toward Him.”
Now the house is hushed. Mini is curled in her blanket. Sister is tidying up in the kitchen. I’m writing this by lamplight, thinking about the way John stood outside the tomb—not to be first, but to be faithful.
Dear Jesus,
Make me quick to love and brave to follow You. Help me wait when I need to, and trust the ones You’ve placed in my life. Let our home be full of respect, kindness, and warmth like that fire of faith we read about. I want to run toward You—and help others run too. Amen.
Love,
Kathy
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