Dear Diary
Robert stopped at the mailbox in his green pickup just before the sun peeked over the soybean field. Sister Mary Claire was already outside with her veil tucked just so, and Mini ran ahead to meet Robert like she was his best friend in the world. We climbed in—the usual cozy squeeze—with Sister in the middle and me by the window. Her little blue book was already open on her lap.
As the gravel crunched under the tires, Sister read to us about the Holy Ghost and the gifts He gives. Not gifts with ribbons, but ones you carry inside you forever. Wisdom, understanding, counsel… She said they help us grow holy, like how seeds need sun and rain. Robert said he thought piety sounded like peace. I liked that.
At Mass, Father LeRoy talked about the same thing. He said the Holy Spirit gives us courage even when we’re afraid, and light even when everything feels dark. I thought about how I feel when I’m down at the grotto—it always seems lit up, even on cloudy days.
Robert took the long way home. He said he wanted to check on a field, but I think he just liked listening to Sister talk about her favorite gift—Fear of the Lord, but not the scary kind. She said it means loving God so much you never want to hurt Him. That made me go real quiet inside.
All afternoon, I could hardly think of anything but getting down to the cave. I brought my rosary and my little Litany of Loreto card. The stream was chattering happily, and Mini drank from it before curling up near the statue of Mary. I knelt on the moss and said the whole litany aloud: Mystical Rose, Tower of David, Morning Star… It felt like I was naming the most beautiful jewels one by one and offering them to Heaven.
After supper, Sister said she had a bit of a headache from the long day, so we didn’t read or talk much. Instead, I brushed her hair, long and dark and soft like the night outside. She had taken off her veil, and I sat behind her on the bed, running the brush gently through. Mini watched from the foot of the bed with her head tilted. I think she liked the sound of the brushing.
Sister said it reminded her of when we were little and I used to pretend she was the Queen of Heaven and I was her handmaid. She laughed and said maybe I still am.
We finished the day with this prayer:
Holy Spirit,
Whisper to me when I forget to listen.
Make me gentle when I feel like being stubborn.
And remind me to love like Our Lady—
Quiet and full of trust. Amen.
Love,
Kathy
Robert stopped at the mailbox in his green pickup just before the sun peeked over the soybean field. Sister Mary Claire was already outside with her veil tucked just so, and Mini ran ahead to meet Robert like she was his best friend in the world. We climbed in—the usual cozy squeeze—with Sister in the middle and me by the window. Her little blue book was already open on her lap.
As the gravel crunched under the tires, Sister read to us about the Holy Ghost and the gifts He gives. Not gifts with ribbons, but ones you carry inside you forever. Wisdom, understanding, counsel… She said they help us grow holy, like how seeds need sun and rain. Robert said he thought piety sounded like peace. I liked that.
At Mass, Father LeRoy talked about the same thing. He said the Holy Spirit gives us courage even when we’re afraid, and light even when everything feels dark. I thought about how I feel when I’m down at the grotto—it always seems lit up, even on cloudy days.
Robert took the long way home. He said he wanted to check on a field, but I think he just liked listening to Sister talk about her favorite gift—Fear of the Lord, but not the scary kind. She said it means loving God so much you never want to hurt Him. That made me go real quiet inside.
All afternoon, I could hardly think of anything but getting down to the cave. I brought my rosary and my little Litany of Loreto card. The stream was chattering happily, and Mini drank from it before curling up near the statue of Mary. I knelt on the moss and said the whole litany aloud: Mystical Rose, Tower of David, Morning Star… It felt like I was naming the most beautiful jewels one by one and offering them to Heaven.
After supper, Sister said she had a bit of a headache from the long day, so we didn’t read or talk much. Instead, I brushed her hair, long and dark and soft like the night outside. She had taken off her veil, and I sat behind her on the bed, running the brush gently through. Mini watched from the foot of the bed with her head tilted. I think she liked the sound of the brushing.
Sister said it reminded her of when we were little and I used to pretend she was the Queen of Heaven and I was her handmaid. She laughed and said maybe I still am.
We finished the day with this prayer:
Holy Spirit,
Whisper to me when I forget to listen.
Make me gentle when I feel like being stubborn.
And remind me to love like Our Lady—
Quiet and full of trust. Amen.
Love,
Kathy
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