Rain on the Glacier Ridge

Dear Diary

The rain began just as Mini and I reached the top of the old embankment where the cave is tucked away. Sister Mary Claire said it was shaped over ten thousand years ago by a glacier that might have been a whole mile high. She says it probably could’ve moved a mountain if it had to—just to make my little hideaway. I liked thinking that God let the glacier do just that, long before I was born, so there’d be a quiet place someday for a girl with a dog and a book.

Mini scampered in ahead of me, shaking off like she’d just walked through a waterfall, and I followed with our lunch in the brown paper sack. I had packed us each something simple: egg salad sandwiches on Sister Mary Claire’s homemade white bread. I always call it her Wonder Bread, because it really is wonderful—soft, thick, and still tasting like yesterday’s warmth from the oven. I tucked a few pickles in mine, and Mini got the crusts plus a few of her chicken treats.

After we ate, I opened The Glories of Mary and found my place in Chapter 2, Section 3—the one that says how Mary never leaves her children at the hour of death. The rain tapped soft on the stone overhead while the little spring beside me trickled along like it was listening too.

It told how the devil tries to frighten us when we’re weakest—right at the end of our lives—but Mary stays. She protects her faithful ones and even comes herself, with angels, to hold them and lead them to Jesus. One of the stories was about a holy man who was suffering so terribly that even his face turned dark, but his eyes kept searching for Mary, and he died with peace because she was there. I hope I can be like that, always turning toward her, no matter how scared I feel.

Sometimes I think about dying and feel afraid, even though I’m just twelve. But today in the quiet of the cave, with Mini asleep on my sock and the smell of rain all around us, I felt brave. I told Mary I wanted to belong to her forever, and I hope she heard me.

Here’s my evening prayer:

Dear Blessed Mother,

You stayed with Jesus at the Cross
and you stay with us too, even at the hour of death.
If I’m ever afraid or hurting,
please come and hold my hand.
Send angels to chase away anything scary
and let me look into your eyes and feel safe.
Thank you for this cave,
for Mini and our lunch,
and for Sister Mary Claire who bakes Wonder Bread.
Help me to love you more and more

Amen.

Love,

Kathy