Dear Diary
This morning was quiet and cool when Sister Mary Claire and I walked down to the mailbox. The gravel was still damp and soft from the night air, and the wildflowers along the ditch had tiny drops clinging to their petals. Mini ran ahead, then circled back to check on us, her little paws clicking softly against the stones.
Sister carried the meditation book, and once we reached the mailbox, she opened it and began reading out loud. It was about Jesus as the Good Shepherd—the one who knows His sheep and lays down His life for them. I listened close and felt something warm settle in me. I’ve always loved the picture of Jesus holding a lamb, but this was something deeper. Sister paused and said gently, “He calls each of us by name.” That made me think about how sometimes I hear His voice in quiet ways—through her, or in a prayer, or even just in a moment when I feel peaceful and sure.
Robert arrived just as we finished, and we climbed into the pickup, Mini hopping in after us. On the way to church, we talked a little about the reading and how comforting it is to be known by someone as good and strong as Jesus.
At Mass, everything felt hushed and holy. The candles flickered gently, and the breeze coming through the window carried the scent of pine. Mini curled up under our pew like she always does. When Father LeRoy started preaching, he said the word sheep—and sure enough, Mini perked up. She wiggled just a little and looked around like she knew exactly what was being said. I smiled to myself. She definitely knows the word sheep, just like she knows breakfast. That little moment made the whole morning feel more alive somehow.
Father said that Jesus doesn’t stop calling us just because we don’t always listen. He keeps on, like a true Shepherd, until we find our way back. I held onto that thought all through Communion and afterward, while we knelt quietly before heading out.
Now we’re home. Sister is washing up the coffee cups, and Mini is fast asleep in her favorite corner with one ear twitching. The lamp by the prayer corner is lit, and the sky outside is all lavender and gray.
Dear Jesus,
My Good Shepherd, thank You for calling me and never giving up. Help me to know Your voice and to trust it, even when the way seems unclear. Keep me close to You, and let me follow with a heart full of love and gratitude. Let me always remember that I belong to You. Amen.
Love,
Kathy
This morning was quiet and cool when Sister Mary Claire and I walked down to the mailbox. The gravel was still damp and soft from the night air, and the wildflowers along the ditch had tiny drops clinging to their petals. Mini ran ahead, then circled back to check on us, her little paws clicking softly against the stones.
Sister carried the meditation book, and once we reached the mailbox, she opened it and began reading out loud. It was about Jesus as the Good Shepherd—the one who knows His sheep and lays down His life for them. I listened close and felt something warm settle in me. I’ve always loved the picture of Jesus holding a lamb, but this was something deeper. Sister paused and said gently, “He calls each of us by name.” That made me think about how sometimes I hear His voice in quiet ways—through her, or in a prayer, or even just in a moment when I feel peaceful and sure.
Robert arrived just as we finished, and we climbed into the pickup, Mini hopping in after us. On the way to church, we talked a little about the reading and how comforting it is to be known by someone as good and strong as Jesus.
At Mass, everything felt hushed and holy. The candles flickered gently, and the breeze coming through the window carried the scent of pine. Mini curled up under our pew like she always does. When Father LeRoy started preaching, he said the word sheep—and sure enough, Mini perked up. She wiggled just a little and looked around like she knew exactly what was being said. I smiled to myself. She definitely knows the word sheep, just like she knows breakfast. That little moment made the whole morning feel more alive somehow.
Father said that Jesus doesn’t stop calling us just because we don’t always listen. He keeps on, like a true Shepherd, until we find our way back. I held onto that thought all through Communion and afterward, while we knelt quietly before heading out.
Now we’re home. Sister is washing up the coffee cups, and Mini is fast asleep in her favorite corner with one ear twitching. The lamp by the prayer corner is lit, and the sky outside is all lavender and gray.
Dear Jesus,
My Good Shepherd, thank You for calling me and never giving up. Help me to know Your voice and to trust it, even when the way seems unclear. Keep me close to You, and let me follow with a heart full of love and gratitude. Let me always remember that I belong to You. Amen.
Love,
Kathy
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