July 17, 1956
Dear Diary,
This morning Robert picked us up at the mailbox rock in his old pickup. He tipped his hat like he always does, and Sister Mary Claire and I climbed in, with Mini jumping into my lap before I’d even settled in. The truck made its usual rattling sounds all the way to St. Mary’s, and the windows fogged just a little from the cool morning air.
Mass was quiet and lovely. I had brought my diary with the thought that I’d write something about today’s Gospel like I’ve been doing lately. But when Father LeRoy read it, it was so short I nearly laughed:
“Come to me, all you who labor and are burdened, and I will give you rest.”
That was nearly all of it. I sat there thinking, Well, that’s beautiful, but what am I supposed to write about just a few words?
But then Father LeRoy did something that surprised me—he mentioned me in his homily! He smiled and said, “Kathy here helps carry water from the hydrant every morning.” (I felt my face turn all red, but Sister Mary Claire smiled at me.) Then he said, “She knows it’s not the water that’s heavy—it’s carrying it alone that wears you out. But when someone walks up and steadies the bucket with you, even if it’s just for a few steps, it makes all the difference.”
And that’s what he said Jesus does for us. He walks beside us. He takes the weight and makes it lighter—not by removing it, but by carrying it with us.
I held onto that the whole way home. Mini rode quietly in my lap like she understood every word. Robert even said that was one of his favorite homilies.
When we got back, Mini ran to check her squirrel bush, and Robert walked us to the porch. The air smelled like cut hay and morning bread. I’ve kept today’s Gospel tucked under my pillow. Just a few words—but maybe the ones I needed most.
Love,
Kathy
P.S. I think next time Father uses me in a homily, I ought to bring him a thank-you egg. Maybe two.
Thursday, July 17, 2025
Wednesday, July 16, 2025
Revealed to the Childlike
Dear Diary
This morning, Mini came with us as we rode to Holy Mass in Robert’s old green pickup. The gravel road was still damp from last night’s rain, and everything smelled fresh and quiet. Sister Mary Claire sat beside me, humming a little tune under her breath while Mini rested her chin on my knee.
Father LeRoy gave a beautiful homily after reading from the Gospel of Matthew. Jesus said that the Father hides things from the wise and learned but reveals them to the childlike. Father explained that it doesn’t mean we shouldn’t learn things—it just means we should never lose our wonder, our trust, or our littleness before God. He said that a heart full of trust sees farther than a head full of facts. I liked that very much.
On the way home, I looked out at the cornfields and wondered if Jesus was pleased with how I listened today. I think He was.
Evening Prayer:
Dear Jesus,
Help me to stay little in my heart so I can see You more clearly. Let me never grow too proud to be taught by You.
Amen.
Love,
Kathy
This morning, Mini came with us as we rode to Holy Mass in Robert’s old green pickup. The gravel road was still damp from last night’s rain, and everything smelled fresh and quiet. Sister Mary Claire sat beside me, humming a little tune under her breath while Mini rested her chin on my knee.
Father LeRoy gave a beautiful homily after reading from the Gospel of Matthew. Jesus said that the Father hides things from the wise and learned but reveals them to the childlike. Father explained that it doesn’t mean we shouldn’t learn things—it just means we should never lose our wonder, our trust, or our littleness before God. He said that a heart full of trust sees farther than a head full of facts. I liked that very much.
On the way home, I looked out at the cornfields and wondered if Jesus was pleased with how I listened today. I think He was.
Evening Prayer:
Dear Jesus,
Help me to stay little in my heart so I can see You more clearly. Let me never grow too proud to be taught by You.
Amen.
Love,
Kathy
Saturday, July 12, 2025
Before the World Woke
I woke early, left Sister Mary Claire a note, and walked with Mini to the cave. The world was quiet, and the creek whispered past the grotto, like a prayer in motion.
Inside, I lit the lantern. Mini curled up on her rug, and I sat at my Underwood to begin the day the best way I know how.
Morning Prayer
In the name of God the Father, and the Son, and the Holy Ghost. Amen.
Oh dear Lord, I love You so much! You’re the most high and holy Trinity—one God, not three—and You pulled me up out of the deep dark when I didn’t even know I was lost. You made me in Your image, even though I’m just a little person in this big world. And when I was far from You, You found me and saved me in such a wonderful way.
Praise be to You forever, my sweet Savior, Jesus Christ!
Friday, July 11, 2025
Help me to be Still
Dear Diary,
My Underwood was waiting for me in its usual spot inside the cave. From where I sit and type, I can see Our Lady’s little grotto so clearly—her gentle face watching over me while I work. It always makes me feel calm, like I’m not alone in here at all.
Mini flopped down at my feet with a sigh, and Omelette nestled quiet in her sling. Shaggycoat met us near the cave entrance, sniffed the air like he always does, and then hurried back to the creek with a splash that made Mini lift her head.
Today’s Meditation was about how Jesus stood silent before Pilate. He didn’t try to explain Himself or fight back—He just stood there, quiet and loving us through all of it. That silence must’ve hurt more than words could say.
When I look at Mary’s grotto, I wonder if she stood silently too, trusting even when it hurt. I want to be like that—quiet, brave, and close to Jesus.
Dear Jesus, help me to be still and gentle like You. When I want to defend myself or speak without thinking, remind me of Your silence. And Mary, help me see things with love the way you did. Amen.
Dear Diary,
My Underwood was waiting for me in its usual spot inside the cave. From where I sit and type, I can see Our Lady’s little grotto so clearly—her gentle face watching over me while I work. It always makes me feel calm, like I’m not alone in here at all.
Mini flopped down at my feet with a sigh, and Omelette nestled quiet in her sling. Shaggycoat met us near the cave entrance, sniffed the air like he always does, and then hurried back to the creek with a splash that made Mini lift her head.
Today’s Meditation was about how Jesus stood silent before Pilate. He didn’t try to explain Himself or fight back—He just stood there, quiet and loving us through all of it. That silence must’ve hurt more than words could say.
When I look at Mary’s grotto, I wonder if she stood silently too, trusting even when it hurt. I want to be like that—quiet, brave, and close to Jesus.
Dear Jesus, help me to be still and gentle like You. When I want to defend myself or speak without thinking, remind me of Your silence. And Mary, help me see things with love the way you did. Amen.
Love,
Kathy 🕊️r />Love,
Kathy 🕊️
My Underwood was waiting for me in its usual spot inside the cave. From where I sit and type, I can see Our Lady’s little grotto so clearly—her gentle face watching over me while I work. It always makes me feel calm, like I’m not alone in here at all.
Mini flopped down at my feet with a sigh, and Omelette nestled quiet in her sling. Shaggycoat met us near the cave entrance, sniffed the air like he always does, and then hurried back to the creek with a splash that made Mini lift her head.
Today’s Meditation was about how Jesus stood silent before Pilate. He didn’t try to explain Himself or fight back—He just stood there, quiet and loving us through all of it. That silence must’ve hurt more than words could say.
When I look at Mary’s grotto, I wonder if she stood silently too, trusting even when it hurt. I want to be like that—quiet, brave, and close to Jesus.
Dear Jesus, help me to be still and gentle like You. When I want to defend myself or speak without thinking, remind me of Your silence. And Mary, help me see things with love the way you did. Amen.
Dear Diary,
My Underwood was waiting for me in its usual spot inside the cave. From where I sit and type, I can see Our Lady’s little grotto so clearly—her gentle face watching over me while I work. It always makes me feel calm, like I’m not alone in here at all.
Mini flopped down at my feet with a sigh, and Omelette nestled quiet in her sling. Shaggycoat met us near the cave entrance, sniffed the air like he always does, and then hurried back to the creek with a splash that made Mini lift her head.
Today’s Meditation was about how Jesus stood silent before Pilate. He didn’t try to explain Himself or fight back—He just stood there, quiet and loving us through all of it. That silence must’ve hurt more than words could say.
When I look at Mary’s grotto, I wonder if she stood silently too, trusting even when it hurt. I want to be like that—quiet, brave, and close to Jesus.
Dear Jesus, help me to be still and gentle like You. When I want to defend myself or speak without thinking, remind me of Your silence. And Mary, help me see things with love the way you did. Amen.
Love,
Kathy 🕊️r />Love,
Kathy 🕊️
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