Dear Diary,
This morning, the gravel was still damp from last night’s rain, and Mini didn’t want to go out until I promised she could ride on my lap. Sure enough, Robert pulled up in the pickup just as we stepped out. He gave his usual “Well, good morning, ladies,” and Sister Mary Claire climbed in beside him while I scooted across with Mini and my little prayer book.
On the ride to Church, Sister read out loud from her meditation book—it was all about the Gift of Wisdom. She said that wisdom is a gift from the Holy Ghost that lets us see things the way God sees them, especially when we love Him more than anything else. That part made me feel all warm inside.
Robert, who had one hand on the wheel and the other resting on the window, nodded real thoughtful-like and said, “Well, I suppose that’s why some folks can lose everything and still be peaceful. They’re seeing it all with God’s eyes.” Sister smiled at that and said, “Yes, Robert, it’s the kind of love that makes the soul quiet.” I didn’t say anything just then, but I thought about the way Mini rests her head on my knee without a care in the world—maybe that’s how I should rest in God.
On the ride home, the sun had come out and the truck smelled like hay and leather. Mini was curled like a cinnamon bun on my lap, and I was still thinking about that word wisdom. I told them both, “I think it’s kind of like borrowing Our Lady’s glasses so we can look at everything like it’s sacred.” Robert chuckled and said he hoped those glasses came with a good cleaning cloth.
After chores, I sat by the window and started a letter to Vreni. I told her about the meditation, and how it made me want to love Jesus better, and see the world the way Mary sees it. I even drew her a little sketch of Mini with a halo like a saint. She is pretty saintly when she’s asleep.
Sister pinned the picture from today’s meditation—Mary holding Baby Jesus—right above my writing corner. It looks so peaceful, like the whole world is hushed. I hope Vreni likes the letter. I miss her something awful sometimes.
Dear Blessed Mother,
Please let me grow in wisdom, so I can love what God loves, and hold His peace in my heart like you held Baby Jesus. Amen.
Love,
Kathy
This morning, the gravel was still damp from last night’s rain, and Mini didn’t want to go out until I promised she could ride on my lap. Sure enough, Robert pulled up in the pickup just as we stepped out. He gave his usual “Well, good morning, ladies,” and Sister Mary Claire climbed in beside him while I scooted across with Mini and my little prayer book.
On the ride to Church, Sister read out loud from her meditation book—it was all about the Gift of Wisdom. She said that wisdom is a gift from the Holy Ghost that lets us see things the way God sees them, especially when we love Him more than anything else. That part made me feel all warm inside.
Robert, who had one hand on the wheel and the other resting on the window, nodded real thoughtful-like and said, “Well, I suppose that’s why some folks can lose everything and still be peaceful. They’re seeing it all with God’s eyes.” Sister smiled at that and said, “Yes, Robert, it’s the kind of love that makes the soul quiet.” I didn’t say anything just then, but I thought about the way Mini rests her head on my knee without a care in the world—maybe that’s how I should rest in God.
On the ride home, the sun had come out and the truck smelled like hay and leather. Mini was curled like a cinnamon bun on my lap, and I was still thinking about that word wisdom. I told them both, “I think it’s kind of like borrowing Our Lady’s glasses so we can look at everything like it’s sacred.” Robert chuckled and said he hoped those glasses came with a good cleaning cloth.
After chores, I sat by the window and started a letter to Vreni. I told her about the meditation, and how it made me want to love Jesus better, and see the world the way Mary sees it. I even drew her a little sketch of Mini with a halo like a saint. She is pretty saintly when she’s asleep.
Sister pinned the picture from today’s meditation—Mary holding Baby Jesus—right above my writing corner. It looks so peaceful, like the whole world is hushed. I hope Vreni likes the letter. I miss her something awful sometimes.
Dear Blessed Mother,
Please let me grow in wisdom, so I can love what God loves, and hold His peace in my heart like you held Baby Jesus. Amen.
Love,
Kathy
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