Editor's Note: In volume four Virginia recounts her many excursions undertaken in the name of her vocation as "God's little hobo." She comes to accept this vocation so whole-heartedly that she informs Mother Madeleine that she is no longer interested in becoming a Sister. She makes two trips to Gary, Indiana, and a second trip to St. Meinrad, at which time she meets Fr. Eugene Ward. Her work in the Jesus-Caritas movement continues to bear fruit. She renews her vows on August 15th, and again on December 8th.
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LOVE
Thursday, June 20, 1963
All morning I waited to go with our friends in their little get-together, but no one came. Not wishing to begin a letter only to quit, I sat reading the booklet on our Little Brothers. Time well spent, with my Charlie family. How I love any word of any of them. Again this evening I was told that someone would be here for me between seven and seven-thirty. But no one came. So what with the rest I had to take this afternoon, you see what a useless day I've spent. 0 but each second was with my Jesus. Only He knows the value of things we do or do not do. Please help me learn to be His little nothing. Let others forget me, "disappoint" me, and if I only know that Jesus is not disappointed in me that is enough. How can I ever be disappointed if He is my Everything?
Delights in Love, endless delights. It seems you know my littleness, my inestimable weakness, and you continue to send me such joys that I might gain more strength in this climb to Calvary. This time, a precious letter from our sister Marg. She has been reading the book WOMAN WRAPPED IN SILENCE. Mother, I think that's the greatest book I've ever read about you. I love it. All others disappoint me. Like all pictures, they fall so short of what I know you are. Artists adorn you with jewels you never saw when you lived among us; authors use words almost impenetrable for a little one's mind. You become so distant I shudder to run after you. I lay these aside. For I know that you are a little one among little ones. In your majestic silence is the simplicity my heart craves. You are the Mother of Love. I am so happy!
Marg is very wise, Mother. She could find Father Keith and me in that book of Jesus and you. You are truly the Queen of co-missionaries. 0 Mother, I beg you to wrap me in your silence that I may learn to love. Teach us, as Marg puts it, love in loneliness. When I am alone, the world is with me, and I must fling myself and all those who are mine into the bosom of the Father.
See our wonderful package from Mount Angel? 0 how thrilling! It reminds me of the gift of the Littlest Angel. Its contents were of the earth, the very things little Jesus would know and love and cherish. And now Jesus is again thrilled with a box full of precious goodies. Please tell Father Lucien how happy Little Jesus and I are with his gifts, his love.
Only to take off the lid made my nose wrinkle with joy. There was the smell of forests in those few pine branches. There's a half of a sand dollar like the one I got to bring him at Meinrad. Perhaps the little birds said to house therein have already winged their way to sing before God's majesty. If so, I join in their song. Here's a piece of stone wherein one can see the fingerprints of an omnipotent Creator. And look, Mother, this plate of beautiful myrtle wood. It's the size of a paten and will always remind me of mine to give. I accept these gifts in the name of my beloved Lord and little Brother Jesus. May the happiness Father sends Us be his.
Friday, June 21
Sacred Heart of Jesus, be my heart! O Sacred Heart, so aflame with love of me, set me aglow. Heart grand enough to embrace worlds, hide me within your immensity. Then I can set men on fire with Love, and that fire will spread and Thy kingdom will come. Then there will be You, only You, loving them, loving Your Father.
O Love, that knows nothing but complete giving, let me never know the stupidity of refusing your gifts. Two Holy Masses this morning, the second in joyful gratitude for our new Holy Father! Hurrah for God!!! We are not orphans; Christ remains in our midst, and our Mother cares for us constantly. Praise be Love.
Brand new bulletin board. The letters say I LONG FOR NAZARETH. And I know that somehow I'll find it on retreat with my missionary. I'm so happy we can go together. Jean's on retreat this weekend. Be with her, Mother, and tell her how happy Jesus is to find her so much like you. This is such a hurried note. There are many little preparations to be made for our trip to Gary tomorrow. So I must be scooting, confident of being always within your loving protection. Help me to bring Jesus wherever He wishes.
Sunday, July 7
This looks kinda yakky, Mother, for we got a new ribbon on Anita. I'm out of practice and so tired. 0 but it's so good to be writing to you again. I've truly looked forward to our little visit. How might such an unworthy child express her gratitude? It's so hard. 0 truly love needs no words. It is too simple and exalted for words or thought. Love is God. 0 but I'm happy to be here with you.
Always and everywhere you seem to be lovingly teaching me of your little Jesus. 0 how you yearn for me to become like your Love. 0 Mother, I've disappointed you so often. 0 to never hurt you again. I see you often at the Thirteenth Station. You hold a lifeless Body and adore a living Soul. I never wish to bring you the torment of gazing at me and finding my soul lifeless. Never!
Now you try to tell me of heavenly treasures. Speak, Mother, I love to hear your voice. And no word escapes your lips without the echo of Jesus' name. Otherwise my languishing heart would wrench with despair. But now I hear you and am filled with hope and joy. You speak of heavenly treasure; of having nothing so that I may possess all things. My heart shall rest in Love. That is all for me. There is so very much for a little one to learn. Yet where else is there to go but here scooting at your feet as you traverse the world? I love to be with you, my Mother.
Remember the Saturday Daddy was to have come to take me to Gary? Silly little girl, I thought I had so much to do before departure. Then you sent me a visitor before I could get started and let her consume my entire morning with visiting. I'm glad, for you showed me just how silly I am, how warped my sense of values. A little slave tell her Master how she will serve Him? Teach me to say "Ecce ancilla Domini." Give me your heart with which to love Him.
Jesus must have been very displeased with me on the way to Gary. I got so irritated with Daddy when I learned that he'd left a full bottle of pills in my drawer so that I could get some "free" from Sister Blanche. He also wanted me to get my wheelchair tuned up there at St. Mary Mercy Hospital.
Did I hurt him, Mother, with my unkind words? Sometimes I think not, for he doesn't understand. I'm glad. It is terrible to keep hurting those I love. Help me to learn your kind, strong gentleness, please. Daddy only laughs when I get that way, so I guess it's better that way. But sometimes it hurts. He need not know. Nothing but Love must leave the paten of my tongue on which Jesus rests each morning.
Sometimes this little hobo's destinations seem so far, the ride so difficult, but I know nothing but joy. All the way to Gary I remembered your own difficult journey to Elizabeth's. Upon arrival you sang life's most unforgettable love song. 0 truly you shared with me your joy as I met my precious little Sister Blanche and Love embraced Love.
The following Monday another vagabond assignment, at Alvin's. Sister and I rode there in Myrt's black Cadillac convertible with red upholstering. It was such fun. We stopped for a Dairy Queen. Sister said I could have a come and she'd hold it for me. It was such fun. My entire face was covered with frozen custard. Little ones do get in such silly messes. Then to hear the laughter of my own dear little Sister reminded me of your laughter, of little Jesus'. It was like music to my heart. I wish to always be little enough that my pranks make Jesus happy. That is enough.
Alvin's home is lovely. I just know you must love the dear shrine she keeps for you in her beautiful yard. To close my eyes, hear the water tripping at my feet, hear the rustling of the leaves and the song of the birds was the happiness a little hobo offered her Jesus that day. My little corner was at a window from which I could see you smiling there at your shrine. In the stillness of the night I heard you hum me to sleep. Wondrous Love to give me such a Mother.
I know you're giving me many little goodies for my missionary. 0 thank you. Only let him be consumed in joy and Love during his month of Nazareth with those he loves, his brothers. His joy shall be mine. You arranged it that way and I know not how to express my gratitude. Only let me be a worthy little sister, the least of his flock, but his.
I must learn to sleep without my bumpers. 0 Mother, it's so hard. It hurts. The spasms increase. And Love. Take everything from me but Jesus. He is my All.
Wednesday night after washing and dressing for bed I had so much to gather in the bathroom I just crawled out with NOTHING. It was so dumb, so unusual and fun. Alvin was surprised, and I too. Guess I'd never done that before. I knew I'd have to make several trips to bring everything where it belonged, and I'd done so very much crawling that day. How we laughed when Alvin found my heap of belongings. It felt good. Sometimes we silly children can get so wrapped up in the toys our Father has put here for us in exile. They are good, for He gave them to us, yet it's grand to leave them in a heap and run to His arms.
Alvin took me back to St. Mary Mercy Thursday. It was such a joy to be with Sister, again. Our moments together are precious and eternal.
Next morning after Holy Mass and breakfast we went to sit under the tree right outside your shrine. And there I had the dreamed of opportunity of seeing Mrs. Gruble once more. She's a saint, another that you've led your little hobo to. I know not why. Perhaps to show me how to be a friend of Jesus. 0 to see and understand. She is so very wise. She said to me, "You must be very lonely at nights." Yes Mother, she knew. Sometimes I wish the day would never end. But then I love to see evening approach. All becomes quiet and I can be alone with my Jesus. It's like a little retreat each night. And I'm grateful. Please tell Him.
I had the privilege of going to Confession that afternoon. Jesus told me I must suffer for others with Him. 0 please, Mother, show me how to please Him, how to begin to love Him.
The tears I spilled before you that night? Of course you know it's hard to be a little hobo. But this suffering is my joy, my only joy. Thank God!
Charlyne stayed all night Saturday. It was such a privilege to meet her this trip to Gary. She's a little sweetheart. So witty and lovable. As we looked through our missal I saw her eyes twinkle over the picture of the breaking of the host from Father's Mass slides. So I gave it to her. I know she was happy and so I too. It is good to give one precious treasure for another, for a smile. I shall reproduce that picture in my life. I meet and love and then am torn away. But there is always one Love that cannot be broken.
Sunday morning after the second Holy Mass Sister sneaked in to hear me telling Charlyne Father Keith's version of Peter and the big catch we just read in the Gospel. If only I might share all the joys and laughs Father has shared with me. Who else would think of Jesus' telling Peter to catch a Big Boy? It takes someone very close to Jesus in amicitia. It takes my missionary. Perhaps he will lead me to such intimacy with Jesus. Meanwhile I shall delight to be the least of his flock, to endure such a poverty of gifts for him, only to know that my nothingness is my everything.
That night Pope Paul was crowned. 0 thank you for letting me see the very climax of the ceremony, the placing of the triple tiara upon the head of our Pontiff. Then he blessed us. Sister Blanche, Martha and I sat breathless before the little TV screen. We have a Father! And in celebration of his coronation Pope Paul VI sent candies to the crippled children of Rome. Such a kind Father.
My precious little Sister Blanche turned in very early that night. She couldn't see. 0 Mother, she is suffering so. Such terrible headaches plus the awful fear of going blind, of knowing that her one good eye is getting worse, yet nothing can be done for it. Yet her responsibility is constantly increased till it has reached frightening proportions for her. 0 Mother, how she is suffering. You know. "Jesus bears it all." Please tell her tonight, tomorrow and always. He bears it. So very often has my heart ached these past few days, knowing how she suffers. How I longed to suffer for her. Such longings. And yet at times I know it was selfishness. Would I take from her the only thing Jesus leaves for us to cling to here in exile, His Cross? Forgive me, Mother. I'm such a silly little child. 0 but perhaps the heartache I endure for Sister might be my gift for her. If you give it to her I know she will smile.
Margie got to stay with me Sunday night. Sister was so very kind to let the girls stay. It's a treat to be with younger people now and then, so fresh and alive and eager. A little hobo must always be all things to all men.
Monday afternoon I was so restless. About too tired for sleep. But I must keep on keepin' on. Jesus fell and rose and continued His climb to death, and glory. Martha stayed that night. I love her so, her sweet goodness.
That night Sister Blanche told me that she has copies of all my letters to you that I sent in the second book. 0 Mother, it's the strangest feeling. Nothing I could say or do; like being stripped of everything. At first horrifying to see the ugliness of my poverty. But then I must plunge myself deeper into God's Everything. FIAT!
Tuesday was the feast of your Visitation. And such a privileged visit you permitted me to make. I got to go to Myrt's for breakfast with Charlie and Lydia, then spend the day there. What more could a Little Sister ask? I've watched the racial demonstrations on TV each evening. My heart has ached to somehow tell them of Love. To think that you let me be with them so much this past week is joy, joy, joy. 0 Mother! please thank little Jesus for me.
Wednesday morning Myrt and I went to Holy Mass together at St. Monica's, then right to the hospital, for I had a couple of appointments to keep. How I love to go to Holy Mass with my brothers and sisters. We gather in one family to eat the Bread of Life. We are one as Jesus and His Father are one. And this is the Bread from our Mother's oven. Your children love you.
Thursday morning was torture. I was utterly exhausted and slept during practically the entire Mass. It was terrible. I tried so hard to stay awake, rubbing my forehead, prying my eyelids open. Guess Martha was sitting next to me in stitches. At Communion time I got rather desperate. I feared I couldn't see when Father was ready to give me the host. So I begged Jesus to let me open my eyes. Then when He had come I told Him I was happy to find Him here, knew He understood, and invited Him to snuggle for a nap with me. Then I was off, and He too I'm sure.
Then all day I remained awake, just too tired to rest. As I shifted from one corner to another I whispered my Prayer from the Cross. Joy in suffering, now I know, Mother. You show me. You show me all I need to know and I'm grateful. Exhaustion and loneliness, there were my treasures.
We got to have Holy Hour that night, The Blessed Sacrament remained exposed, and I remained awake to watch one hour with Jesus. Happiness.
Friday Sister noticed how quiet I was and I fear she thought I wasn't enjoying myself. Please tell her I was only tired, very tired, for her. Didn't get to see Dr. Jahns till yesterday. Even then he was in such a hurry. Think he would have liked to keep me a couple days to see a real hypnotist. 0 Mother, do you really think that would help? I'm to let him know next time I'm coming so he can make arrangements for hypnosis. Far as I can determine from what Alvin says, the way I sleep is for the security it affords. All spasticity disappears in that super-flexed position. Muscle spasms are greatly decreased. It feels so good to me. Yet I shall do as Holy Obedience directs. That's all. Let Jesus be pleased and that is sufficient.
How very ashamed am I for my actions this morning. Truly I don't let Jesus live as He wishes in my heart, otherwise I wouldn't have sobbed all morning at the thought of leaving Gary. I could tell no one goodbye; I couldn't speak. 0 Mother, what a terrible goodbye gift for my dear little Sister who already bears so much suffering. Please forgive me. Please let her forget those tears. She has so many of her own. Will I always and forever go about hurting those I love? 0 Mother, I'm so ashamed. But then perhaps this is the very suffering you've let me endure for her, 0 thank God!
Monday, July 8
A telephone call this evening during our supper time. Isabella asked "Big Virginia or Little Virginia" when she answered. It was good to know that even here at Good Sam my family knows I am a little one. It was for Little Virginia!
Didn't know just who it was till I heard Myrt's giggle. 0 such happiness to hear her ask about her favorite nut. True confession: she was too "chicken" to come to bid me farewell yesterday. I'm glad, only wish that no one had seen my pain. She wants some very special help from you, our dear Mother. It's such a thrill to come to you with requests for my brothers and sisters, to see your smile and know that I never ask for them in vain. We know all will be well, for you care for us always. No mother could resist the goodness, confidence and perseverance of my precious Myrt. Especially not you, Mother dear.
Myrt called from the office, so I got to speak with my dear little Sister Blanche. 0 thank you, Mother. All day I've remained united with her in Love. It's so good to have her here with me in the poverty of my heart. She asked about the "pain in my chest." Ah yes, it is here, wonderful terrible, precious wound of Love. I welcome it. My Jesus is happy, and that is enough.
Wednesday, July 10
Daddy was here this afternoon. Last time for about three weeks, for he begins his trip west this weekend. I'm happy for him, for I know that journeying west is somehow his favorite dream. Lady of the Way, be his Lady. When I am not there, still tell him someone cares. Please.
Daddy took our record player to have it repaired. Miss it already. But now perhaps I can better hear the words of your Magnificat and understand. Sing, my Mother. Your little one loves to hear you sing of Jesus.
You must have laughed at me last night as I argued my way out of a sleeping capsule. I could hear Mary in the hall giggling. 0 but Sister was telling me how bedraggled, exhausted I looked. She said I wasn't resting enough and asked if I'd take a capsule. Got out of that by promising to wear my bumpers all night. It did help, felt so good. I still miss them. Now what in the world is that missionary of mine doing with bumpers in the desert? So happy to give them to him each night. What is he doing with Jesus right now? Tell him how happy one little hobo is to have been given to him. 0 thank you, Mother.
Thursday, July 11
A letter from Elwood today! 0 thank you, Mother dear. It meant much to hear from Anne; very, very much. How I've longed to hear from SOME Charlie. As Anne, "Sometimes I feel my desert is overwhelming." Velma's letter has changed so many things for me. Dryness more petrifying, even all the tears I've shed can't begin to moisten it. 0 thank God that I may share so very much with Charlie. He longed for the Holy Family of Nazareth, and in his longing he was alone. Truly he has let me imitate him all the more by being nothing "official" in his family. A little nothing. That is enough for Jesus? Then if He's happy, I too.
0 Mother, thank you for asking the Sisters if I might borrow their record player. It was such a treat to find it here after my hour with Jesus. May there always be a song within the poverty of my heart, a love song for Jesus.
Friday, July 12
In today's mail a postcard from Sister Roberta. She's back at St. Francis College in Fort Wayne for the summer. 0 Mother, why do you keep letting me get into such pickles? What now? As if you don't know. By July 26th, Sister is to hand in a case study for class. She wants me to send all the information about myself I can within a few days. 0 Mother, this seems so silly. But I know that it's beautiful if I do the best I can through Holy Obedience. Please help me to learn your prompt and unquestioning obedience to the Will of the Father, you who know just what Jesus would do. Somehow God will be glorified as others discover my own nothingness, my terrible weaknesses and failures. They will know what is NOT He. Then lead them on, Mother dear, to be perfect as He is perfect, with His very Perfection. This I beg for all those of my family, for the world.
Thank you for sending Father Sal Lumbardo in for a few minutes this afternoon. I truly needed to see some Charlie. 0 my dear Mother, you always know my every need and obtain it from our heavenly Father for me. You know what I know not. Let me be near you always to learn of your wisdom, of your Jesus. Let me know nothing but JESUS, my beloved Lord and Brother. Please!!! Your guidance is my only hope and joy in this exile.
Sunday, July 14
Please tell our Father thank you from all His children for the good rain He sent us yesterday and last night. Our little flowers wave to Him with delight. Would that they could send Him the praise we forget to give.
The words of this morning's Gospel have echoed across this day. "I have compassion on the multitude." There is Jesus looking at His poor. They have followed Him for days, forgetting even their temporal needs, thirsting only for the refreshment He gives their souls. 0 He doesn't forget. Truly all things are given them besides. How near was He today, making His delightful Presence known to me, strengthening me for yet other days when I shall go in search of Him and become lost in the milling crowds, when my wretchedness shall blind me to His Presence, when feebly I trudge on following Him I know not where, when our rendezvous leads us to Calvary. I shall go on, for I shall remember today. He was so near.
When my fingers got so sore from all the typing my Father's business has brought me to do lately, I stop to go to the window to sing a song to my Love. And this evening I saw my beloved Jean approaching. Joy! A Coke together in an evening wrapped in Love. Truly of such little things is the Kingdom of Heaven.
Monday, July 15
In my heart and my prayers today are our own President Kennedy and all people in his great United States. 0 Mother, the violence I watch on TV each evening is a crime, the crime of our nation. Sometimes I find such cruelty difficult to believe. And yet this is my crime as much as those who use weapons. I have a weapon which I do not use, one which might wipe all such smears from the face of my country. Almighty Love, that is all I have and that is the only weapon that will prove effective in this tragic racial crisis. 0 please beg God to wipe from my soul the guilt of this violence. If I but love as I should peace shall reign. If I begin not now all this chaos will succeed in bringing nothing but more hatred and violence. God forbid! Mother, a little one cries to you for all your little ones throughout the universe. Will you not heed a pitiful cry for mercy? I know you hear and understand. Thank you for always receiving my plea, for garnishing it in your wisdom and simplicity before placing it before the throne of our almighty Father. Never will He ignore YOUR request for us,
Now in the distance is a soft invitation to come aside and rest awhile. My Jesus awaits me in the still of His evening. He will soothe this anguish of my heart. I go to be with Him now.
Tuesday, July 16
Just yesterday I got this month's pamphlet from the League of the Sacred Heart. So in this morning's offering I prayed for "effective preaching." Each day in life's happy dawn I kneel before the dresser on which are the three precious pictures of the "men in my life." There's Jesus and Charlie and between them my missionary. Each day you once again give my heart away. Effective preaching, surely those three have given us a living example. Charlie wished to "shout the Gospel with his whole life." Surely Jesus' life and death were the good news he came to give us. And now He lives today, still shouting joyously, and I am His little Mary. Bless the Lord, 0 my soul, and all my being bless His holy name!
Dear Lady of Mount Carmel, happy feastday. Would that with you I might learn the Ascent to Truth. 0 please take me soon to eternal union with Jesus. I place all my hopes in you, Mother.
We weren't permitted to attend Holy Mass this morning, for Father Kohne felt so bad. But Jesus came to be with us all day. My heart must be His Calvary. He must feel free to forge His Holy Cross into its depths. No one ever felt its pain or triumph more than you. Because you are the Mother of Sorrows you have become the Mother of the Blessed. You are mine too by some prodigality of Almighty Goodness. Never shall I understand this happiness. But it is mine.
Wednesday, July 17
Today's Sister Alexis' feastday. How I love her. Do you see her each morning as we prepare to go down to Holy Mass in the elevator? She looks around to be sure I'm coming, then smiles really wide and almost sings, "Good morning, Teresa!" At least it's music to my heart. She's constantly reminding Sister Aquinas not to forget to take care of the "child." Guess she really worried about me when I was in Gary. And when I didn't show for Holy Mass on Sunday she was truly alarmed. She's a darling. Please, Mother, take care of her as she does of me. And let the world know what she knows, that I am but a little one. Only my love must be great. Jesus-Love.
Look at the card I got from my darling Velma. "There's only one thing for a person in your condition to do...SUFFER." signed Happy "Bumperless" condition! And a big love letter. Such joy to hear from my own Velma once again. May I thrive on her parting words of Hope. "Someday all will be clear, all will be understood, the pain will be over, God will be possessed - SOMEDAY!" 0 blessed day for which I quietly wait, hope fills my joyous heart. And this minute the record player lulls me to rest in an Unchained Melody. "0 my Love, I've hungered for Your touch a long, lonely time…I need Your Love…God speed Your Love to me!" Jesus-Caritas.
Today's Sister Camilla's feastday. Just had to remind you, Mother. I love to remind you of all my brothers and sisters in Love. You seem so pleased at the mere thought of them. I too wish to please you thus, I, their very little sister. Perhaps you can love me much because I am the least, the least in Love, and yet I desire to please you. Somehow I think that my desire is sufficient. With Jesus I've come to do the Will of the Father. And what would I more than it be accomplished? Teach me the complete dependence and total surrender of your FIAT.
Today brought a note from my darling little Sister Blanche and also a happily newsy letter from dear Charlyne. Sister says, "Each day gives us a grand opportunity to prove ourselves and rise above the pettiness of things that tend to disturb." Yes, Mother, I know she's right. This evening I almost forgot. Waiting for help and watching precious moments tick by is so difficult for me. Sitting here listening to the sounds of suffering around me, mostly the stinging remarks of the aides to the patients. This is pain, Mother. With each fleeting second, each scowl, I tried to tell Jesus I loved Him. It was hard, for I realized how shallow my love is. It was almost mockery to express it. I want it to be a consuming Love, yet I know that it isn't. There is yet so much selfishness left. More to suffer, my God, ah more! Wrench every particle that is not You from me.
Friday, July 19
Last night Virginia asked me to watch "The Nurses" with her. 0 Mother, I almost refused. But I just couldn't. It's so hard to do anything without the bumpers [body brace]. I'm beginning to dread the approach of evening. And yet it is a time of wonderful opportunity. Jesus is always waiting for me. And if we must mount the Cross together, let me remember that this is why I have come into the world. Only to be with my Jesus is enough.
0 Mother, another letter from Father Lucien today! 0 joy and sunshine and wisdom. I love him a whole bunch. Did you tell him already? Please do so again. How I love all the wonderful little things he shares with me, stories, and even a tiny pair of moccasins not large enough for my small toe. He says I can do anything with them, just so I don't hang them around his picture. Great idea, and you can guess one of the goodies you'll see on next month's bulletin board. He says, "Not many flowers here, but you would love the stark and bare realities of the prairies and cattle ranches." Reminds me of another special someone who loved the desert. I too must learn the beauty of the desert Jesus gives me right now. Do help me Mother. I am only a little one.
Mail came early today, so I got to read it before dinner. During my hour with Jesus I was telling Him of Father Lucien. The experience with the two old maids who did nothing but weep sounded so funny, especially with Father telling it. I could just imagine the poor fellow's dilemma and burst out laughing with Jesus. So glad the Sisters hadn't finished eating yet. Teach me always to share wonderful little things. Jesus is so little.
A little sister with such an evil tongue? 0 Mother, please help me. Why did I have to speak thus at the supper table? So it's hot and my braces are sticky and my neck a nuisance, still no excuse for such conduct. My Jesus spoke sweet words in His suffering even to those who jeered and tormented. There He was waiting for me in chapel. He let me rush to His feet, my eyes, my heart, my soul stinging with grief at having hurt Him so, at having spoken harshly to Him. Somehow His embrace tonight was more joyous. Truly He loves His little black sheep. He suffers so because of me. And He loves--0 Mother, what can I say--not just a heap of nothingness, but of mire. There is nothing to do but beg that I may love Him with your Immaculate Heart. That is all your little slave possesses. But that is enough.
Saturday, July 20
This afternoon Sister questioned me on some evil reports she'd heard about one of the aides. I know nothing, except that I love her. So she was with the circus, she smokes and drinks and curses; I know nothing of that. She's very crude, true. She's afraid of Love, professes to be an agnostic. And I'm in Love with her. Does she know we're in GOD? Perhaps some day she will know. Only let me love her immeasurably. Jesus does. And it is His Love that burns here in the poverty of my heart. Jesus wants to tell her so many things. Please don't let a stupid little hobo get His messages tangled, Mother.
Holy Mass will be later tomorrow morning. Fr. Kohne is feeling mighty rough. Please love him tenderly, Mother dear. Does this mean that we'll have to wait till Sundays to attend Holy Mass now? But no, such an ungrateful Little Sister am I to complain. Please remind me often of my dear little brother Charlie, of his consuming love of the Holy Eucharist and Holy Mass, of the terrible deprivation he endured in not being able to offer the Holy Sacrifice. It's wonderful that he permits the very least of his Little Sisters to join her suffering to his. It seems he's bringing me ever closer to the life that was his, the life of Jesus of Nazareth. I long for Nazareth, and in this longing I possess it. Nazareth was a long period of yearning for my Jesus. How often He must have sighed that His Hour hadn't come yet. How many nights He lay there gazing heavenward to the bosom of the Father. Perhaps He got very homesick. Yes, Mother, Jesus knows, and lives. Jesus-Caritas!
Monday, July 29
How happy is your little one to be here with you once more. All is quiet. From our record player soars soft notes of your Magnificat. And from my heart a song blends with it as you sing a goodnight song to your Jesus.
I want to tell you about everything, Mother. I love to share all with you. You always seem so interested. 0 but where to begin? I remember Sunday the 21st. We didn't have Holy Mass till eight o'clock. So Jesus and I got to spend our hour together in the early morning sunrise. I was so happy to share it with Him as it sparkled through the chapel windows and fell on His little gold house.
The Gospel for that day was filled with goodies for me. Jesus told me that I was a little seed in the desert. That unless I fall to the ground, am trampled into the dust by passersby, and I die, I shall remain alone. 0 Mother, any loneliness is tolerable, sweet, but this. Tell Him to send the milling crowds to grind me to the depths of Jesus-Love. And there I shall find Life. And that Life in me will bear much fruit. Then all my brothers and sisters may come to eat and see that Jesus is sweet. With Jesus will they lift me up, and I will draw all things to Him. 0 Mother, the sweetest seed Jesus placed in this exile, teach me to die.
Fr. Fitz said Holy Mass for us that morning. At times I felt an urge to scream I LOVE YOU, as he screamed the prayers of the Holy Sacrifice. 0 Mother, forgive me for such ignorance. Surely Jesus doesn't measure the volume of our prayers. And I who am so noisy in the ugliness of my heart, who am I to criticize? This only emphasizes my nothingness. Please pray for our priests. Show me how to offer my Mass.
My dear little Queen called that afternoon inquiring if I had my traveling clothes on, saying that she was on her way to get me to take me home. 0 such Joy. I rushed to pack and soon she was here for me. Please tell Our Father of my gratitude for such delights. She looks so good, had gained lots of weight, and beneath her heart carries another little one loaned to her by God. 0 the overwhelming beauty of pregnancy! May I be forever pregnant with Love.
And Dick, there's a fella that has always had my love and profound respect, a great guy. Together they must be like you and Joseph. There is Nazareth. And there are little ones, so filled with simplicity, open, eager, hilarious, beautiful little ones, the kind that people Jesus' Kingdom.
Tuesday Dick took me to Holy Mass. And Velma came to Queen's for a visit after breakfast. How I longed to speak with her. Jesus knew. When He sent Queen to fix dinner for the kiddies He left us together. 0 precious seconds. So few our words and so unnecessary, so hot my tears, so deep my wound and so great was Love. It was enough, that little visit. I know Jesus says what I cannot. Julie came for just a little while late that night. She told us a little about the Charlies' retreat in Montreal. 0 such precious morsels to be shared. And she spoke of dear Dixie. Though I know so little of her, yet I feel a precious bond between us. I kinda suspect that she was there on retreat for me this year just as I had the privilege of representing her last year. Perhaps we shall alternate years? You will care for crippled Charlies too, I know. Only let us never be handicapped in Love.
Please forgive me for the heartburn after Julie left. If I would feed on Jesus and Him alone I would not experience such distress. But once again my longing to join the Secular Institute was enflamed. And yet in the brilliance of those fires I could well see that Jesus did not will it, nor I. I know not how I could want something so intensely and yet not want it all at the same time. Another paradox solved only in Love. Ask Jesus to make me a good little hobo.
Wednesday was Myrna's birthday. Surely Our Father is glorified at this blessed birth, and with my heart angels sing to Him in thanksgiving. Yes, I am in Love with Myrna. Father Keith was to have "given" that day in his desert to Myrna. So I too, for you give all my days to him.
Meanwhile He had undreamed of joy to share with me. Myrna's special prayer that day was that Fr. Keith might join us in a climb to Calvary such as we shared during Holy Week. I wonder…for Jesus took ME there that night. Everyone had gone upstairs to bed. There I was alone, paddling over the floor getting things put away and clothes laid out for morning. Suddenly an alarming weakness, complete helplessness overwhelmed me. And there before the vigil light that burned at the feet of your statue and Jesus' I fell in a heap, face to the floor. I know not how long I remained there, a little heap of nothingness in the Allness of God. I think sleep overtook me soon afterwards, and later I awoke to pick up various articles I'd dropped and to crawl to my corner for the rest of the night. Jesus' little nothings can do all He wishes.
The next night Queen, Dick and I chatted till the wee hours. We had such fun. Dick got nuttier by the hour, even had ME smoking till Queen voiced a fear that I'd burn a hole in her rug. Besides, I was ready to quit with the first puff. It tasted yakky. I'll reserve that pleasure for Fr. Lucien.
Saturday the boys were spraying each other with the hose, so I volunteered to soak them and got the same treatment myself, one little slip of my hand and splash, slurp, my favorite drink.
I was so very tired Sunday and spent most of the morning in my little corner. Dorothy came that afternoon, with a smile. Such a beautiful sight. A little while after she'd left, Shelly was playing with the Pick-Up Sticks in the living room. Queen asked her to put them away and got rather irritated at the way she was ramming them in the box, broke one. So she decided it was a mommy's job. She said as she put them away, "You give me the creeps." And softly Shelly replied, "Them ain't creeps, Mommy. They're Pick-Up-Sticks." 0 Mother, I laughed so hard I could hardly endure it. The more I laughed the more muscle spasms I endured. I couldn't breathe; the pain was nearly unbearable. And each time I considered that I myself was the cause of such anguish, there I'd go again. It was terrible. Even yet I am sore everywhere, and so weak. Such a stupid little one, and yet I'm yours.
Daddy brought me back to Good Sam this afternoon. It's the feast of St. Martha. Please obtain that all of us may learn to choose the best part, to do just at Jesus wishes and be content with nothing less than He.
There was a nice big stack of letters to read. I know Jesus enjoyed them. Do ask Him to help me write to those He Wishes before His little hobo hits the road again. I think His favorite today was our first letter from Myrt. Perhaps you may tell her this evening of Our Love? Goodnight, Mother dear, and thanks.
Tuesday, July 30
A day alone with Jesus, doing the little routine things with HIM We cannot do in the divine milieu. It was such a happy day, filled with silence and smiles, with Jesus, with Love. Can I somehow express sufficient gratitude? You can, Mother. Please sing to Him the ditties that fill my heart.
At times today I felt that I couldn't move another muscle. I'm so tired and sore and tense. 0 Mother, still you love Jesus' little nothing. Jesus loves me; that is enough.
The Sisters, all but Sister Aquinas and Sister Assumpta, left for their retreat today. And this evening two others arrived to help out till their return, Sister Teresa Ann and Sister Francis Cabrini. 0 such joy to see her smile. We spent all evening together in Love. Truly the Gift of Friendship will never be taken from us. It is our eternal treasure. Gladly will I surrender all other treasures for Jesus-Love.
Friday, August 9
O so much a little one wishes to share with her beautiful Mother this evening. Can we sit here late this evening, just you and me, speaking of Jesus and His lovers, not a word that doesn't secretly whisper His sweet Name? 0 Mother, I just knew you'd stay up with me. Let me snuggle yet closer. The evening is warm, my decorations a bit sticky, but in Your embrace is all my refreshment. Springtime is always in the eyes of my Mother.
Wednesday the 31st I got to go with Sister Francis Cabrini and Sister Teresa Ann to Holy Mass at St. Joan of Arc. Our chair banged all the way, a horrible sound like it was ready to fall apart. When we got there we had to tackle steps that seemed to staunchly stand there chuckling, the way Father Keith does when he finds me in a pickle and squirming. I felt like sticking my tongue out at them, gave then a swift kick, and victory for us. We got in. It was a High Mass. 0 how the angels sang. I know that my croak was consumed in their praise, in your Magnificat. It's such a consolation to always hide behind the lovely garments of my Mother. You are so patient. You never ask me to step forward, never bring me the terrible shame of exposing my wretchedness to God. Enfold me here always in your sweet, delicate virtues. I like to peek at Love. This is enough. This is all a silly little girl could dream of.
And besides, I must not have been a very pretty little one that morning. All night I got to watch with Jesus; sleep dared not disturb Us. It seemed I could hardly breathe, only little short, quick breaths, and such pain. I kept wishing that Jesus would take me. But no, only He could know how unworthy I remain to stand before Him. My little ones yet cry for help. How could I wish to meet Him without having mothered these? No, I must remain to love these He gives me, the world. I may be weary, but I must not sleep, not yet.
All my longing leads me to the 15th. 0 blessed day. It is so near, yet it seems it will never come. I beg it to hasten, yet push it from me in awe. I remember a day one year ago, as calendars read, an eternal day, a yesterday and yet a lifetime away. That day you sent me forth with those your Jesus had sent. You told me to accompany His disciple, the one whom He loves in Amicitia. And you, Queen of Co-Missionaries, told me of your work as co-redemptrix. I must be a savior with Jesus. How? "Follow Me," He says, as He mounts Calvary to say His Mass. Yes, I follow, I sing, I run, I beg for the Hour and then for the patience with which I must wait till He be lifted up. Do I hasten His death? I hasten the Life of the world.
Myrt called at noon that day, the fourth time in one week. And finally Jesus' little hobo was here to delight in the sweet message she spoke. Her voice, her words, her love, her giggles and tears, thank God for these.
My precious little sister Myrna was here for me soon afterwards, And there I was with all her little angels in her own Nazareth for Angie's first birthday party. Guess little Jesus had heard my wish for a little gift to bring. Did you whisper to Him for Me? He sent ladies to bring us lovely bags of candies the previous evening, candies for the birthday party of a little one, I know. Please tell little Jesus how happy all his kindnesses make us.
Myrna and I got to go to Gracie's for supper that evening. Then just as we were to leave for our evening with all the Charlies, it seemed one of my bug's little wheels was falling off. Boy, Dick came to fix it in a jiffy, bringing Queen and many little ones along. But it was interesting to consider that the chair might be irreparable. Very interesting. Tell Jesus He can knock all wheels, all things from under me. Only let Him never leave me. I should die the ugliest death were He not here. And in Him I live an eternally glorious Life, the Love of God. When we got to church I asked Myrna to take me to your side so that Father wouldn't see me there and think he had to give his precious time to the least of his little ones. How great were the cries of men there at your feet that evening. All my little ones were screaming for Love. Their voices drowned out all other prayer. Their cry was my prayer. I know not what they longed for, nor how to speak for them. Only to gather these sighs of those in exile was the lot of a little one cast in ugliness at your feet.
But Jesus knew how much I needed to speak with Him. So He sent Mary Jo to take me to the telephone for a little chat. Am I right to consider the precious gift of the Sacrament of Penance as such? It seems Jesus always catches me off guard. And suddenly I'm being pushed into the confessional without the slightest idea of what I'm going to say to Him. Like getting a telephone call. Yet there is always something to speak to Him about. I hear His dear, soft voice, I feel His Love and it's so easy to tell Him little things only He would care to hear, He who is such a Little Brother, He who loves.
Jesus tells me to be simple with all those He sends me, to share the sweetness of His Love with all, to be myself and no one else. He asks if I truly love myself. Mother, I don't really know. Do help your little one. She is too small to begin to love as Jesus loves. Yet she remembers that He gave you to her as her Mother and she nearly bursts with happy gratitude.
Father gave me a book, a precious book named To HEAVEN WITH DIANA. He told me that he cannot say what he wishes, but this book speaks for him. 0 Mother, it's like suddenly finding a huge pile of letters he's written to me, beautiful letters from heaven. How precious are these words of Love and consolation and advice. Such joy they have brought to the loneliness of my desert. Let them be so many little seeds, that nourished in Jesus-Love will blossom to glorify the crown you even now prepare for my own little brother Keith.
Father says that at each Holy Mass he prays for my little ones. He invites me to include therein every intention that kindles my heart. Yes, his priestly hands offer worlds to God.
After Holy Mass Father slipped to the side door to greet us. He suggests that I sing louder. Then others can laugh at Jesus' little one. Wise guy! 0 but again his priestly hand touched the stiff fingers that serve him. Sometimes I think that Jesus wishes to tell me how these too must offer to God Himself. I look at them this evening, these stiff fingers. Never could they be worthy to hold their God. But I belong to one whose hand is strong. That is enough.
Father stopped by that evening. 0 Mother, sometimes I wish we wouldn't meet thus. I mean, just to sit there watching a silly cartoon on TV seems such a waste of his precious time. All his moments are precious. I wish to ask for none. But sometimes others ask for me. And perhaps Father must neglect another for me. God forbid. 0 you know how I long to be with him as I once was, to take our little trips to the clinic, to go out for hamburgers and milkshakes, to see a great show with him, to go with him and his family, a wee sister consumed in his greatness. But these are far away. Nazareth is gone. And now my part is to be only the furthest from him in the crowds. Yes, it's hard. You know don't you, Mother? But it's wonderful for somehow I can never feel a distance. Love doesn't have such measures. It seems the further it's stretched the stronger it becomes. You understand so very well; thank you for letting me write to you.
Tuesday, the feast of Jesus' Transfiguration, we had the privilege of attending Holy Mass. He chose the very poorest of His little ones to climb Thabor that day with Him. One who has denied even knowing Him. And yet He knows that did He not lavish me with so much tenderness I would fall into the place of eternal hatred. I climb with Him to Thabor that I may soon climb another hill to the Place of the Skull, to the mount of eternal victory.
We saw Father for a minute before Holy Mass. And there we learned that he, Mary Jo, Pat, Dorothy and Marie had gone to see Velma at the lake the day before. 0 Mother, how green and ugly I must have been to my Jesus right then. How selfish. How I longed to have been among that select group. How very often I forget my part is to belong to no one. Please ask Jesus to forgive His little hobo, to be patient with her. He is 0 so patient. Though I have so many foolish longings, yet may the desire to do only what he wishes be the strongest, and the consolation of knowing that He is happy be my only Joy. Please beg Our Father to forgive the ignorance of your little girl.
At Holy Mass that morning the consciousness of being there at Father Keith's Mass filled me with joy and love. Mine to give he raised on that little gold paten, and it seemed that he should stagger under such misery and wretchedness. But no, he remained erect and firm, a tall, strong tree planted near the living waters Jesus offers. What he offered to God was no longer I. And what he offered to me was the Bread of eternal Life. 0 such Love!
At night prayers that evening I opened my eyes to peek at Jesus' little darling Margie. And there she was, folding her hands in every way imaginable. She was trying to imitate me! How impressive, and alarming. Such a poor example am I to all my little ones. Please help me to be a good mother.
All day Thursday you seemed to whisper secrets from one co-missionary to another. There are those who envy this little hobo's carefree life, those who know not Jesus' little vagabond. 0 such responsibility is mine. It scares me, fills me with joy, chokes me, thrills me, makes me stagger under the load only to fall into the strong embrace of my God.
Loretta came that evening, inviting me to her home to meet a dear friend of hers. Gladly would I go. Sometimes I feel that I cannot go on, that I MUST rest, that such exhaustion would merely appear as indifference to those I go to love. But Jesus invites me elsewhere. And with His strength I need never refuse. Somehow His Love must shine through this fatigue. And this smile must reflect His Joy and Life.
0 thank God that I am so tired this evening. I wish that I might travel to the ends of the earth, till the end of time, to love Jesus and make Him loved. Please never forget your wandering little one in her exile. Someday soon I shall come home to you forever. So soon. My God, let not this longing be in vain!
Saturday, August 10
Praise to God on this blessed feast of St. Lawrence. Let me too be consumed in the flames of Divine Love, in the hunger for all my little ones throughout the world. I've thought often of Father Lawrence, though I don't really know him. But I follow Sister Blanche's thoughts and prayers for him. Please, Mother, take my feastday wishes to him. And to a precious little Sister too. To Sister Lawrence at the Villa. To all my great, glorious family, Love, Love, Love.
Today seemed to be one of big adjustments. It's like I've just moved to Good Sam. Everything seems strange. The cries, the angry words that reached me in chapel seemed to cut twice as deep. 0 thank God for leading His little one so many places to love Him. 0 to remain almost invisible among man. Jesus knows I'm here; that is enough.
Mary Romack called just as we were finishing supper this evening. I grow a little frightened now and then when my little ones come to me for words of Divine Wisdom. Truly they could never realize just how stupid I am. But that's all right, for I beg Jesus to speak. And I am filled with confidence. It seems so easy to speak the Love within the poverty of my heart. And to hear of the joy with which these counsels are received convinces me that Jesus lives today. May He live and love eternally in His little Virginia!
Sunday, August 11
With the Publican this morning in the Holy Gospel I whispers "Lord, be merciful to me, a sinner!" Filled with misery and confidence I once more fling myself into the arms of my Mother. That is enough, for she loves sinners.
Once more we climbed the hill of triumph, Mother, the glorious hill called Calvary. 0 immaculate temple of God, you know how I long to go to Him often, to house the Blessed Trinity, to feel the Sacred Humanity of Christ, so little and fragile and mighty, on my tongue. Some days seem an eternity of longing for Holy Mass. May such deprivations as we've endured since poor Father Kohne's illness always quicken my yearning for the hour of eternal Union with Love.
My precious Hilda was here this morning! 0 how tender and strong our embrace. It had been a month and a half since our last meeting. We longed to speak of many things. Yet Ora insisted that I go to breakfast, as I learned later, so that she could go to smoke a cigarette. Please forgive my great irritation with her. Please, Mother. I must learn to be gentle, tender to those who hurt.
See our new August bulletin board? How my heart beats as the 15th approaches. "Since you gave my heart away..." Thus the letters read this month. 0 so much have you given your little child since that day one year ago, because of that day. Guess those were the first words with which Father Keith acknowledged our gift. Remember? I thanked him for the conference on poverty that had so deeply moved me. And his gracious reply rang sweet and loud, "Many wonderful things have been happening since you gave your heart away." He did realize the significance of your gift to him! Never shall I forget that moment, that Love. Never do I wish to lose the beauty of that eternal moment during the Holy Sacrifice when you told me you were giving me to be his. Little did I understand, but I heard your gentle voice. Even yet I cannot comprehend this joyous Love that binds a priest and a cripple. It isn't important to understand. Accipio.
Monday, August 12
My dear Jean dropped in this afternoon. Such joy her visits bring, joy in the contemplation of Womanhood. Please teach me to be a good mother. 0 so many little ones wait for your smile on my lips.
You know, Mother, how I long to see my precious missionary Thursday, perhaps even to be present at the Holy Mass during which he'll offer my ugly nothingness to Almighty God. But I know that physical presence is even now so insignificant. I must be little, lost in the multitudes. Sometimes I cannot see through the milling crowd. But my heart will be forever tuned to Love's messages.
Mary Romack has been here all evening. About eight-thirty we went out for a snack, then chatted for another couple hours. It is so good to be with Mary. 0 to learn of the beautiful simplicity that Jesus gives her. Mother, please help me to be the child Our Father wishes me to be.
Tuesday, August 13
My little ones wait anxiously for letters, and I can send them so few. 0 Mother, please care for them. I am no woman, merely a little one myself, a little one crying their tears.
I hope to visit with you much tomorrow. Do help me with my day in the desert, one completely devoted to preparation for the wonderful feast when once more you'll give my heart away. With Jesus I go aside to rest awhile in the bosom of the Father. Let me be inebriated with Jesus' Love! Please Mother, show me the Way.
Friday, August 16
It's so good to be here with you this evening, my beautiful Mother. So good to rest here on a heart whose incessant murmurings whisper Jesus' name. This is the only song I need learn to sing.
The desert where Jesus led me last Wednesday was most unique, a place apart in the midst of noisy activities. Just as I'd gone to be with Him in the Blessed Sacrament He sent me out to the telephone to speak with Myrna. Vagabond assignment, pack quick cause We're going to Myrna's. For an instant I nearly argued. It seemed there should be one day alone with Him now and then. But no, never can I be with Him alone. So many little ones follow Him everywhere, and to wish to take Him from them or them from Him is to ask Him to leave these who delight Him so. Surely you never asked Him to come aside from them. Nor I. Ask Him to pardon the silly impulses that escape the arid depths of my heart.
Jesus is good to let me see Our little sister Myrna so often. I know this privilege is granted to few. Perhaps it is mine to make me more aware of my own unworthiness. Sometimes I think Jesus finds the deserts of our hearts merely to show us that He is the Master of the impossible, for even there He can make Love's blossoms burst forth in sweet fragrance.
Myrna said I might call Father Keith Wednesday evening to invite him out for tea and a chat. Only to hear his voice was joy. And when he asked if I'd like to ride to the investiture at Tipton my heart raced far beyond my thoughts. And in my jubilation I hung up the phone without another thought of Myrna's invitation. Gosh Mother, that was careless wasn't it? Myrna would have been so happy to have him there. Please help me to be always conscious of the desires and needs of my brothers and sisters, and much more forgetful of my own. Great though they are, Jesus knows each one. One thing is necessary, only One is to be sought, and everything will be ours.
One special thing in that little telephone conversation is still ringing here in Love's immensity. "I'll remember you during Mass. Will you remember me?" Perhaps little Jesus asked you now and then if you loved Him, your omniscient little One. And I try to imagine your joyous heart always ready to assure Him once more of your Love. I wish to love him Maryly, and I trust you'll teach me to tell him those things he needs to know.
Early yesterday morning I rushed to your tomb. Of course I knew you wouldn't be there. But there was such a sweet smell, sparkly dew, and through the clouds a glow I hadn't seen before. My feet wished to dance in following, but they knew they couldn't follow, not yet, to where all feet skip lightly and children dance for joy. I lay upon the earth that cradled your beautiful body and squinted at the sky. Somewhere up there you were watching. All your life had only one desire compelled you, to be with your Jesus. And at last He takes you to Himself, to crown you Queen of His Heart and to keep you with Him always, where all dreams come true. And here I sit, on the earth from which God fashioned such a Mother, and here I wait for only One, a tremendous Lover Who waits to draw me to Himself with His Mother's arms.
All the way to town my heart, and my lips, sang of my Mother, of God's earth, of sunshine, tall corn, lovely breezes, little houses, little children, our family, our universe and God's infinite heaven. How can so much joy be in one tiny spot? Jesus is so little.
You returned with me to Calvary. You must always show me the way there. I wander off on little paths that smell of sweet flowers and sing with little birds and sparkle with rainbows. And then I get lost. I can't find Jesus, for this wasn't His way, nor yours. Then your voice calls. And I look up to see a Cross. It's not beautiful. I wish to run the other way. But you call gently, patiently, passionately. Jesus is the Way. And He hangs on the Cross. 0 please keep calling. And tell Him I'm coming, so slowly; He's waiting so patiently. 0 if only I might run!
It was time to make my promises to Him. It seemed it would never come, yet that minute, as so many others, caught me unawares. A little white host was offered to God. Thoughts of Poverty, Chastity, Obedience fled. Those thoughts with which I'd nourished my soul all this month. And only one desire possessed me. Only to be like you for Jesus. To be. A little co-missionary for today's Christ. To be the least in the crowd, to be the furthest from the sight of the Master, to be jostled by the anxious, the curious, the hostile, to be content with whispers of him that reached your listening heart. To be happy because somehow, somewhere you hear the Word of God, and keep It always as your own. That is enough, for that is my everything. It's yours.
After Holy Mass he to whom you've given my heart helped me into his little bug to take me to Tipton. In the nearly tangible silence that pervaded did he not hear a song, a new song of praise, joy, Love? I think so.
I asked for a seat in the back of church, out of the way of the jubilant crowd that came to see Jesus' sweet brides. And I got parked in front of all of them, all alone at the feet of your beautiful image. Alone, as you.
Angels sang there, sweet music for your Jesus. Lovely brides gave Him their hearts. Others joyfully pronounced eternal vows to Jesus. I was alone there in my rags. Hot tears burned my face and fell to leave their marks on the ruffled pages of my missal. Almighty God dared look at me there??? 0 joyous pain! If only I might embrace all around me to myself. But no, there was I in my ugliness, there before Him. No religious habit to clothe, no religious community to absorb, no little family to shelter me. Alone. Beneath the Cross. There I stay, for another. There alone is my shelter, for Jesus' shadow is enough.
After Holy Mass began the joyous congratulations and greetings that lasted till evening. It was such fun speeding through those corridors and down the driveways once more, everywhere finding familiar faces, greetings, or the poignant message of a smile. In chapel for a few quiet moments I sat at a loving distance from the confessional, knowing that Father was spending his afternoon there for so many little Sisters to whom he must have brought such consolation.
Finally time for farewells to all the little penguins. What will this year bring them? Jesus, only Jesus. Please hear this prayer and make it worthy to reach the Heart of God.
Your own dear Keith took his least sister to a drive-in for supper. We chatted of everything "interesting" over hamburgers and shakes. But mostly of the simplicity of God, which He wishes to be ours, for He wishes to be ours. May we never ask for anything less than Christ!
We were going to visit Velma, but she and the others weren't home. It seems so long to wait to see her. But I know that these days and months are nothing. Eternity is soon, and forever. Then we drove through the graveyard. "Interesting." Father got out of the bug to read one of the tombstones. He said it had my name on it, so I laid myself open for anything by asking what other information it gave. Well, I died in 1973. It happened while I was swimming the Atlantic. I thought I was a PT boat; I was nuts! 0 Mother, sometimes I see such a loving Christ, and sometimes a naughty little brother, and always I love him.
Finally I had the privilege of seeing the lovely spot where Jesus and Father Keith meet often. I'd heard of it many times, but always someone said it would be inaccessible to me. But not that special someone with whom you permitted me to celebrate your feast. He drove his little bug through the gates over weeds and around bushes till we got to the stream. There he let me sit in the grass as he walked further down the creek, my heart following each step. It was so quiet there, and sacred. Made me wish to remove my shoes and place my bare feet on the hallowed ground, or in the waters before me. The trees bowed in reverence, one was a little more respectful then the rest. It was tall, majestic, yet its leaves were so dainty and "femininy." So little, yet towering, at the same time. I want to be a woman like that; like you, Mother of God.
When Father returned we sat there with our backs to the car, he reading little parts of Jordan's letters to Diana, placing jewels between the lines, and I heard only Jesus telling me of Love. For a time I must bid him farewell. But joyfully for I know that he goes to prepare a place for me, that I too may be with him forever in the Heart of God. Then he assured me of the answers to my deepest desires for him, my only desire, that Jesus live, and all was quiet.
The little birds sang for us, the trees stood listening, their roots deep in the good earth, the little fish flashed as so many gems in the stream. And man's noise intruded, squirrel hunter and guns and invitation for us to leave. But not before a splenderous sunset thrilled our hearts. There it was dancing through the trees, golden graces springing from Eternity. And we bathed and were refreshed.
As we left, we drove past a bush loaded with large, sharp thorns. Father pulled a branch so that I might take one and in the process scraped my arm with many sharpened points. I look at the scratches, this evening. Beautiful marks that tell of love. When Jesus draws me nearer the summit of Calvary, and I am bruised and sore and in rags, still let me realize that this is what I begged Him for most. This is Love.
My missionary couldn't have known what words made the little songs I sang as we drove along that evening. But Jesus knows. That is enough.
I had to laugh a little at your TLC, Mother. It seems I no sooner decide that it must be my lot to wait till eternity to be with Father once more, and I accept this wait in joyous anticipation when you give me another precious visit with him. Truly you know my weakness, my impatience and the poverty of my love. And you let me be enkindled in Father's strength, his patience, the immensity of Jesus' Love in his heart.
Father reminded me that surely Jordan never took Diana riding in his Volkswagon. But then he wrote so often, so there! 0 thank God for Love, for Himself. It was a "happy Lady's Day." Would that I could bring to my little brother the same joy he brings me. Would that I could bring Christ, for nothing but Christ can fill the immensity of his heart. But I cannot. This I know. Yet I have a Mother eager to do this for me. Please?
This morning I was privileged to attend Holy Mass with our little Sister Mary Joan. Surely she is so pleasing to your Jesus. Somehow I see there the depths of womanhood. 0 but it is so deep and I so shallow. So poor. Only to be as Jesus wishes is enough.
Today is "Grandpa's" day, so to speak. [Feast of St. Joachim] Greet your earthly father in the name of all our fathers today, please beloved daughter of God. It was a year ago that Father began our retreat with the secular institute. A year ago that we considered our ancestors, our children, how precious the treasures we must keep for them. Dear Mother, our gifts must be nothing less than yours. JESUS.
Jesus let me visit Him in the confessional this morning. I've tried hard to remember His every word. Yet my desire must be to remember but one Word, the Word of God. He is my All.
"Little Sister, Mother loves you. You must know this. Yet you sometimes forget to emphasize her love for others. You fail to tell them how very special THEY are to her. They come to tell you of their problems, they come often. Yet you speak much too often. You think they expect you to speak. Try to listen more. They need someone to listen…Look again at your dear Father Lucien and his stories. He says much, doesn't he? Try to tell stories, true stories, but simple enough for your little ones to understand…You remain so long alone at Good Sam. You long to communicate the Love you've found. And when you find someone who might understand, you wish to dump everything. You confuse them. Your dear missionary understands. Try hard to be what others need; help your beloved little brother thus….Would you consider writing a commentary on the Gospel of St. John? It may help you. You do not yet know Me. And have I been with you so long? Merely give Me your intense longings and I will fill them. Only in Me will you find the beautiful simplicity that will make you like Me. That will please Our Mother more than any other gift you might offer her…
"Sometimes all you bring to Mother are complaints. Bring her beautiful little gifts too…Now look at you, weeping because you've failed so, ready to weep each time you fall again. Dry your tears, my little sister. Do not consider what you might have done to me, to hurt me. Begin now and love eternally."
Sunday, August 18
Today's Liturgy was filled with beauty, so full. And once again Christ offered Himself, His Sacred Humanity, His majestic Deity, to Our Father upon the altar in our tiny chapel. 0 God of loveliness, hid behind a piece of bread that little ones might confidently approach to be consumed in Your Love, thank you for living here, for dying here, for rising again to eternal glory in the bosom of the Father. May we do or become nothing apart from You.
Please, Mother, glorify God for once more permitting the Holy Sacrifice to be offered here. His "bounteous kindness exceeds the merits and fondest hopes of our prayers," and He will "grant us the blessings we dare not presume to ask for." Please take this Prayer to God from His little ones throughout the world.
With St. Paul I realize that "by the grace of God I am what I am," and somehow I long to add, "His grace in me has not been fruitless." 0 but I am a barren little flower, Mother dear. I wish only to love you, to please you as your little Jesus pleased you, to be the least of all your little ones, but only to be yours. This is my little way. This is my poverty. This is my gift, this nothingness you give to another.
If these letters to you were as beautiful as Charlie's writings surely they would be so pleasing to Jesus. 0 but I don't pretend to be a hermit as Charlie, nor even to meditate. I simply come to be with you at the end of the day. That's all. If I am not beautiful like your other children, perhaps the shades of dusk will mercifully hide my ugliness. Your eyes see far beyond that ugliness. So far beyond that Christ fills your dreams. Christ Who wishes to inebriate me that I too might bring you happiness as He does. Bring Him, Mother, to fill the dark, damp, stony cavern of my heart, that it may be as dear to you as the cave in which you first laid Him.
The silent love of a smile, the anxious heart that listens, the hands that rest gently on the shoulders that bear such weighty burdens, these are the instruments through which Jesus spreads his Good News. I watched Him this evening, and marveled and adored.
It's time to say goodnight now, Mother, and I love you, and to press your Jesus close in this silence and adore. But how can I rest in peace, knowing that the poor heart of my dear Hilda yet sobs? But if you will go to her…yes, now all is quiet.
Monday, August 19
0 Mother, it was so wonderful. I mean this morning as we prepared to receive our Jesus. Suddenly it was whispered that Father would say Holy Mass for us. So very much poured upon one unsuspecting little heart! It seemed it would burst. Sister told me later that I shouldn't have answered the prayers aloud. Of course, I'd never done this before. But it was either that or burst, it seemed. 0 thank God, Mother dear, please thank Him for my silly heart. And help me to spread the infinite graces of that precious Mass to all Jesus' little ones.
0 to go to God in childlike simplicity. To rush to Him, forgetting my ugly nakedness, remembering His mercy, His omnipotence, His majesty, His Love, eternal, inexhaustible Love. Only to be there in His Sacred Presence, annihilated, a little nothing. All silly concern about how I must pray or sing, to think or act, must vanish. To be with Him is all that matters. It's kinda dumb to dictate to Him what I wish Our visit to be. I don't do this to other friends. And He doesn't do this to me. He is Kindness. I love to be with Him, for when I find Him there I find the world and heaven and all things.
Universal love seemed so easy today. News from France and Africa reminded me of other silent messages our brothers and sisters in China, Russia, Germany might wish to send. Whatever these are, surely your motherly care will gather them tonight to lay them at the feet of God? All God's children are yours, and mine, in this wonderful communism called Christianity. You never forget these little ones. But I? Please help me to remember.
See Anne-Marie's card from Valmont? 0 Mother, such beauty! Of all the houses built to shelter our Sacramental Lover, surely this is one that pleases Him most. Here He dwells among His little ones in their poverty. Dark damp stones surround Him, as they did the first day He came to be with us. He must feel at home here. Especially with little lovers such as Anne-Marie there to adore Him as you did at Bethlehem.
And here's a letter from Father Pwamang in Navrongo, Ghana. His work is progressing he says, but his health isn't good and he begs your help, Mother dear, that he may render worthy service to God. Surely illness is difficult for all God's children. 0 but to consider the dignity of the Holy Priesthood and his inability to fulfill the incessant demands placed on his poor shoulders must be a terrible cross. I often fear for Fr. Keith, seeing the huge burden that is his. And yet those fears don't last long, for surely a little sister is good for something, especially if she may join you beneath the Cross, with Christ to save the people of God, His children, yours and mine.
Tuesday, August 20
Again the wonderful privilege of attending Holy Mass tiptoed to our hearts. Something like a breath of springtime in March, a joyous surprise that kinda makes one wish to burst into song. And who can keep a heartbeat steady? Nothing can take that from me, "mine to give." Not even others' irritation that they had to prepare the altar so hurriedly. They just didn't understand. Do I really understand? Lord, that we may see!
Just about dinner time a wonderful sound floated through our windows. There was a band practicing in the streets. Such a happy sound that I might share with all my elderly brothers and sisters here. Perhaps they all smiled, remembering a long ago when little children followed the high-stepping music man, skipping, running, laughing. Please let such memories fill their days, these poor, lonely, little ones, till once more they enter the eternal world of little children and these joys are theirs forever.
Today has seemed like a bit of Christmas somehow. Jesus, so little and so mighty, resting in the hearts of all men, in my poor heart. It was hard to suppress Christmas carols during my hour with Jesus. I didn't. Whatever fills my heart I spill at His feet. There is nothing else to do when I'm there with Him. It's useless to pretend that I'm a great contemplative, that I am filled with beautiful thoughts of Him. He knows the selfish designs of my heart. Sometimes to give Him only what is mine is painful. But He accepts graciously and offers to God the Father what is His.
"Sweet little Jesus Lord, we didn't know who You was." Sometimes it's easy to imagine what love and devotion I would have brought to the creche where you and your almighty Infant were sheltered. But you lay Him daily in little souls. And daily I fail to recognize Him. And you extend once more that timeless invitation, "O come let us adore Him!" My love is my greatest handicap, but I am coming. Please keep calling me.
Here is our annual letter from Tony Frignito, offering to perform any little favor we might wish of him during his annual pilgrimage to your beloved shrine at Lourdes. Please shower your lovely smile on him, a son who loves you much. Thank you for letting him visit Lourdes so often, always ready to pray for us who cannot be at those hallowed grounds. Let him ask for himself and all those he remembers there that we always and everywhere do the Will of the Father, becoming daily one with Jesus. So often I joyfully remember my visit with you there at that little spot in the Pyrennees. I know that you even yet remember my little petitions there, fulfilling them daily. But it is good for me to be here now, right here in a little corner at Good Sam, writing another note to my Mother. Surely if I had a chance to return to Lourdes I'd be filled with joy, remembering that it is your desire that your children visit you there. But now, with Jesus dwelling here in the poor tabernacle of my heart, how can my yearning lead me elsewhere? GOD is here!
Father asked us to consider especially this month "childlike Simplicity." So this afternoon I peeked to see what the Concordance Father Lucien kindly gave me had to say about children. It seems that when Jesus had something very important to tell us, He first addressed us as His little children. How lovingly He spoke to us at the Last Supper. That great message was addressed to little ones. Only they could begin to comprehend this new commandment He gave us. The smell of cigar smoke still lies heavy on the pages of that Concordance. As I hold it in my lap I wonder what old monk had perused it, delighting in the Word of God and in his cigar. For in spiritual maturity it must be hard to distinguish one delight from another. A silver-topped child was smoking that cigar, and its clouds must have hidden a bit of heaven from those with less vision.
Daddy was here a little while this afternoon. Guess beginning next month the Sisters will charge him $100 per month for my keep here at Good Sam. That will really pinch him, what with Jimmy in college. Yet I can't help feeling a bit of delight after sponging on others for so long. Perhaps I can better respect him as a father if only he fulfills a few of the duties of parenthood toward me. I do love him. But the respect that I would love to give him has never been mine. For the responsibility always comes from another. Never let me neglect my duties to him, though at times I must burden him more. Often my concern over what will or will not hurt others is a selfish concern. Only to love and then do anything.
September 2, 1963
Truly it IS good for me to be here, Mother dear, alone with you and the world and Heaven. But alone, His alone, because you give me to Jesus.
Thoughts and prayers and Love are surging in my heart, in my mind, too mingled and exalted and simple to narrow to these little pages. And yet I wish to write to you. Why? I do not know. Yet I know that you love me, and that is sufficient.
Wednesday morning, August 21st, I awoke to God's morning and--confusion. The strange sensation of finding all my things topsy-turvy, myself not yet dressed, my packing not begun, such a lost feeling, unfamiliar. And yet it was good, I know. Only a preview of what the next two weeks would bring. It seems that during that time all was taken from me. My prayer life was gone. My Short Breviary never completed one day. Rosaries impossible to squeeze in. Holy Mass and Communion such a rarity that when I did attend I became so choked up with joy I could not read from my Missal nor hardly follow the prayers, only sit and marvel that I was really there. Such a desert, such a magnificently barren desert. Such prayer and love within a heart devoid of such. 0 immensity of divine Love, consume one devoid of all save nothingness! If only there were only nothingness here. But no, there is wretched sinfulness. Mine to give: Poverty of self.
Before Jesus came to us that morning He seemed to whisper again and again, "Ask, and you shall receive." Ask from the depths of humility. In your hesitation you seem to doubt my Love. Believe, and ask." My God, I ask, I beg, that the world be consumed in the flames of Divine Love. I can think of no more exalted request, nor one which You must be more anxious to accomplish. And yet it seems that if I continue to smother the spark of your Love in my heart I have no right to ask this of You. And still I ask, in confidence.
Father called while we were eating dinner that Wednesday, saying he'd be here for me that afternoon. It was then that I learned that Loretta had hurt her back. 0 Mother, sometimes it's so difficult to know what is truly good for others. During my hour with Jesus He tried to tell me how to handle these situations in which I find myself so often. He reminded me of last summer, of how I stewed over going to Velma's with Grandma there, of how much Father and Velma had to go through to convince me that I should be there. Perhaps if I strive to a more simple, open relationship with those I love I shall find God's Will more easily in these things.
Also perhaps in fostering all these doubts as to what is or is not good for those I love, I am doubting their love for me. Many times I would be willing to endure intense suffering for them, but the idea of them suffering for me, because of me, is revolting. Jesus showed me some pictures of you and Him at Bethlehem, Egypt, Nazareth and finally Calvary. Truly He did not doubt YOUR love. May the grace of the vow of Holy Obedience refresh us and remove from all hearts doubt and leave there the sweetness of the sacrament of the moment.
Father Keith finally brightened our corridor at 3:00, announcing that we were on our way to Muncie. He knew I hadn't been there for such a long time. With what kindness does he care for the least of his flock! Sometimes I wonder if he could be any gentler with the more lovable!
Soon we were in Muncie, so soon, and he had me close my eyes to open them to -- the foundation of the new St. Mary's Church. Apparently a heap of stone, and yet upon these we mortals build God's church. By the way, Mother, Vivian said that you and I get to "donate" the $40,000 organ. I told her I'd talk to you about it, trite though the request for a Mother such as you. So please help us find a donor who will be blessed in giving music to God's church.
Next morning I got to "scoot" to Holy Mass, down the back stairs of the rectory and again the front stairs leading to the chapel. 0 but the scooting back was even more interesting. Still I was thrilled that I might struggle so before standing again with you at the summit of Calvary. It was the feast of Your Immaculate Heart. 0 precious heart of my heart. There is nothing that a little slave might give her Jesus any more, nothing but what is yours, your heart, your love. And I am your slave forever, and your child. This Heart you offer me, this throbbing, burning heart of a woman encompasses nothing less than All. And only one.
Then Father Keith took me to Loretta's.
The 23rd brought precious memories. Sometimes I find these thoughts not so much memories as dreams that preview eternal Happiness. I remembered the Charlies, the vows they took that day in the Secular Institute. But most of all I remembered a young priest, a precious missionary, who spoke of YOU in a vibrant message. 0 Mother, he loves you much. I am happy.
That night brought pain, darkness, loneliness, Love. In Nazareth I knelt, and yet I was so very far from Nazareth. So close to those who dwell in Jesus' Love, yet so ignorant of that Love. My body has been torn from their midst once more. They are lost tonight. I see them not. Only love then leave that I may love in Truth. Sorrow and joy mingle here, and my cup runneth over.
My precious Mother, it's been difficult for your little one these last few days, weeks. You know this. You know your little ones so well. Perhaps that's why I like our little visits together each evening. You don't scold me for crying, nor even for being silly. You merely gather sweet nothings for another. So if I mention this longing for the Holy Sacrifice, forgive my complaint and obtain for me the grace to overcome all but the Father's Will.
While Loretta worked on her project, I too was privileged to fashion little Stations of the Cross from sticks, stones, and various goodies I found in a box of scraps she let me invade. It was an honor to work on such a topic, to sit for hours, my hands trying futilely to depict the story my heart sang. The tragedy was permeated with secret joy, joy in what lay beyond that tomb.
Father dropped in for a couple minutes after Confessions Saturday night. And he brought a white carnation from your altar at church. It was a lovely white, sweetly scented, so soft to rub on one's cheek, so femininy, like you. Often recently he's given me one little flower. Perhaps he knows that not even two could please me as much. One very little flower, and Love.
We got to go to Holy Mass last Monday, right at your feet. I like it there, always. Did you notice the little missal I was using? It was a child's book I found with some of Father Keith's goodies. I truly love children's books. They seem to contain the prayers adult Christians should say. Mother of Little Jesus, obtain for us His Simplicity.
That evening we went to Dick and Queen's. Such a sweet welcome as Shelly climbed to my lap and began saying all the words she knows make me laugh. Just as I had mentioned something about Velma and felt but one more stab of loneliness, the phone rang and Velma announced she was coming over. 0 Mother of Love and Mercy, of Prodigality, accept the gratitude of a sinner who wants to love you.
As we were gathering around the piano she arrived, my precious Velma. It seemed I couldn't embrace her enough. I longed to impress her upon my heart so that I could never lose sight of her again. She stood next to me as we sang. But I had forgotten my glasses and couldn't read the words to most of the songs. So I sat in silence, happy to be thus, alone, yet her hand was in mine. That was enough. And then she was asked to play something for us. You know what a heavenly pianist she is, what an angel she is always. The moment I heard the beautiful melody of "Till There Was You" I rushed from the room. 0 I just could not let her see! But surely she heard, she knew. 0 Mother, please ask Jesus to forgive me for constantly inflicting pain on those I love so. Is there nothing more I may offer them? 0 such poverty that reaches into its storehouses and gives far worse than nothing, that gives suffering to those I love most. Must this always be my gift to these poor little ones? 0 God, forgive me!
Wednesday, the Feast of St. Augustine, my brothers and sisters held their march on Washington. 0 Mother, all day I watched all I could find on TV. They're beautiful, these our people. Their line far exceeded the TV screen. A "mass of humanity" as one announcer described them. They will never know how triumphantly my heart marched with them that day, in peace and joy and friendship. 0 thank God that these are mine, and you are our beautiful Mother!
Myrna dropped in that morning. She had called Marg to learn that our little sister way up north is expecting a baby. The day before Mary Joan had told me her good news of great joy. And there are Pat and Queen and ... Anybody else? 0 Mother, it's so thrilling to think about. Do you think Myrna will soon have a secret to share with us? Ooo! Once in a while I long to feel a movement of life in my womb. But it just lasts a second, that longing. For I know that now and always I shall be pregnant with Love.
Then came Thursday, the day for the Charlies' big trip. It was the feast of the Beheading of St. John. Once again God offers me whatever I wish in His Kingdom. I run to ask my Mother what my request should be. And the sweet answer is the same always. JESUS.
0 how I longed to go with the others to see Marg, but I knew there wasn't room. Each time I learned of someone else who was going my heart twinged a little more. Myrna, Mary Joan, Pat, Loretta and even Velma. But then there was the unshakable joy of having a little something to send for our beloved little sister Marg.
There was so much more to give for Marg and all those loved ones in their absence. Please let them forget my foolish tears. With Divine Grace will I learn to love being excluded from all groups, to be forgotten. Only let Jesus remember me. That's all. Only when I am lost in Him can I truly belong to all these.
Thus I remained there alone at Loretta's, a day in the desert, and somehow I rejoiced that my heart could skip to Michigan long before Father and the others could arrive, and wait there for them in loving anticipation with Marg. How her heart sang that day. And that song was mine.
I got to sing aloud all my Short Breviary. And only Love heard. Then a few practice rounds on the crutches. Not bad. I have been secretly practicing lately. Of course this is good. But the moderation in all things which Father urged upon me in the words of Jordan to Diana is yet lacking. It's so easy to spend myself on them. And I felt that day that I haven't yet accepted this handicap. True I feel 0 so good at present. But it's hard to convince myself that I'm not cured. Mediocrity is a staggering cross at times. You see, I was trying to walk alone for a minute. Just wishing, hoping in this recent strength. But my legs give out. I fall. My back is pulled. It aches. Jesus will show me how to learn to accept all the Simons in my life graciously instead of sporting my independence.
Soon, so soon it seemed, it was time for lunch, so I began spreading the peanut butter and jelly. I love simple meals like that. All things must remain simple; yet they're never simple enough. To possess God, to be possessed by Him, is to have found ultimate Simplicity, to have found Him.
The privilege of reading A WOMAN WRAPPED IN SILENCE was mine that day. 0 that what I read may be what I am becoming! It seems so far from me, yet you eagerly offer it to me. Accipio.
My hour that day was spent with Jesus and shared by a little kitty named Tiger. 0 so tiny and cute. He always falls asleep in my lap. So relaxed, abandoned. And when he awoke he played with my little rosary. Surely you didn't mind his little teeth on the beads.
That night I got to do a little wood burning on the Stations for Sister Blanche. Such a struggle of love, joined to that of Jesus. Without His mine would be nothing. But because it made my arms, shoulders, neck and backache I could joyfully continue my task for a precious little Sister.
Father brought me back to Good Sam this morning on his way to Peru, Indiana. 0 thank you for letting me be with him once more, to tell him something of the inexpressible sorrow that fills my heart. And to receive his gentle reprimands. But please help me thank Jesus most of all for His Absolution when I'd returned to my corner. Now I go in Peace and Simplicity, in Jesus' Love. May my little brother go likewise. I know we go together.
There was lots of mail to share with Little Jesus upon return. A letter from Dorothy. 0 Mother, only you could know how our little sister has suffered. We but try to imagine. And now her recent illness of double pneumonia, the waiting of recuperation, the loneliness, the nothingness of her gift. And this added to a lifetime of pain I read in her eyes and hear in her heart. Of course I know not the details, yet I find the pain when I'm with her, when I think of her. It's always there. And I love her, and I long to embrace her suffering and mingle it with mine. For somehow it seems we share much.
Tuesday, September 3
See our new September bulletin board? That little prayer at the bottom must become mine…"Lord, fill my mouth with worthwhile stuff, and nudge me when I've said enough." Mother, I want to become like you, a woman wrapped in silence, a woman in love, and yet it seems I go further and further from this ideal. 0 such painful failure. And yet if this mere desire pleases Jesus that is enough.
And there's Jimmy's picture in the very center. My poor little brother. Daddy just told me this afternoon that he spent last week in jail. We don't know just what happened. He was with other young boys. 0 Mother, my scattered, lost family! But "He ain't heavy…"
A card came today from Father Lucien. Guess he's back at Meinrad now preparing for another great school year. With him there it could be nothing but great. May it be his, filled with Love and all Love brings. He wants to know our plans for our visit this fall. You know how I long to stay there alone a few days in private retreat with Jesus, perhaps a story a day from Father. What do you think of this? Do let me know soon, Mother, for Father wishes to make arrangements down that-a-way. Only to belong to Jesus is enough, wherever He wishes His little hobo to wander is where I will find Him and love Him.
Jean was here this evening. How my corner glows when she shares it with me, listening to lovely music, chattering, or simply resting my head on her knee. I thought of you as I knelt there on the floor, and I wondered if you'd ever listened to your mother thus. Perhaps she was telling you of God's magnificent promises, or perhaps the silence that enveloped the two of you spoke of promises a tongue cannot utter.
Wednesday, September 4
As we were waiting for Jesus in Holy Communion this morning it seemed days passed. But He didn't come. 0 how painful to leave chapel, after expecting Him for so long. A short pain and a long joy, for here He is buried forever in the poverty of my heart. And it sings. I remembered something Father Keith wrote to me last year at Christmas time: "May Christ never have to wait for you." Yes Mother, that is how you were that eternal day. Alone, waiting, the doors of your heart opened joyously, and Love entered to stay. Yes, He came this morning, so silently I hardly noticed. But I heard His Breath, and smiled.
Here is a stipend from "A Friend" in Elwood. And a request that we pray for a very special intention. Please, Mother, use all such occasions to intensify my awareness of my poverty, and your power. Do care for your little ones, for mine; let me become the child those who love Jesus wish to imagine I am.
It was good to hear from our little Sister Camilla today. So good. Please tell her of Love this evening, Mother dear, Jesus' and mine. And Sister Jude, a little lamb being immolated to divine Love that we might learn of God. 0 that her suffering be not in vain. That we take not from her the consolation of our sanctification through her. How long her nights of suffering must be. But she knows her Jesus is there to keep watch with her. And the hearts of we who love her so do not sleep.
See the holy card Sister Camilla sent? Mother, there has never been a more beautiful reminder of you. Years ago I gave to one of our little ones a treasure just like this one; and now here it is again to thrill my heart, to tell me of my Mother. "She who was lowest in her own eyes saw without tremor that she was highest in God's eyes. She was glad because He was glad of it--and for no other reason." My beautiful Mother!
Friday, September 6
Jesus seemed to wear such a special smile today as I read Anne-Marie's letter to Him. My precious little sister translates a few lines from a most impressive book she's reading. "Fully realize that Christ lives in you. Be convinced that it is He who prays in you, acts and speaks through you. There is no difference between contemplation and action. All is one since you have let yourself be seized by Jesus, and it is He who lives in you." I love to write such things to you, Mother dear, that you might send the Spirit of Christ's Love to let me see and understand Jesus. Please teach me of Jesus! You will be happy if you see Him dwelling always here within me. 0 how I desire to make you happy! Perhaps Anne-Marie will come to see us this fall. 0 such a happy reunion we'll have.
Sunday, September 8
Happy birthday dear Mother! Would that I could help you LIGHT every candle in the world that all little ones might see your beauty and love their Mother and through you fly straight to Jesus in the bosom of His Father. Please accept this birthday wish from a little one who will be restless till it is fulfilled.
My heart feels that it can hardly endure such joy as filled it during the Holy Sacrifice this morning. Sometimes it seems just too much. All the ugliness I had gathered all week for the paten disappeared during the eternal second when Christ whispered, "This is My Body!" Little birds, leave your nests to come here with us to sing. Lilies of our fields, come to stand upon our altars in your fragrant whiteness. For your Father is Our Father. Come to see the Gift He sends. Let me run and sing among your fields and forests. For Jesus dwells here, within my heart.
Monday, September 9
This morning I heard you whisper so sweetly, so clearly, "Love expects all things." You seemed to repeat it endlessly. You know how hard it is for my poor heart to understand. But you never tire. You're such a patient Mother. To hesitate with a request is to doubt Love, to deny God the opportunity to once more show me His tremendous Love. He loves to grant our worthy requests, and it seems the greater their impossibility the more hurriedly He wishes to accomplish them. Otherwise, how dare I beg Him to dwell within my heart?
Today St. Peter Claver and Myrt and all my poor brothers and sisters sorely oppressed have filled my thoughts and cried out in my prayer. God forgive us; God help us to love.
This evening after supper, as Mrs. Van Winkle took me to chapel, we rode the elevator with an elderly lady who had been visiting. I was struggling to get my little white chapel cap in place when she exclaimed, "You have beautiful hair…you have pretty hands too!" I rushed to chapel to tell Jesus what she'd said and to ask His forgiveness of such a frivolous little girl. For no one had ever told me my hands are pretty. I've become very conscious of them recently; we've joked about them so much. Of course it doesn't bother me, for I too think it's fun to ridicule my stiff fingers. God save me from the hour in which I forget to laugh at myself! But sometimes I long for mine to lift little Jesus as your pretty hands lifted Him. Surely I shall never be a handicapper as long as my heart can sing, and serve.
Tuesday, September 10
We heard from Ruthie Arreche today, little Jesus and I. What a gal. Now guess what, Mother. She wants $10,000 or more to take her little wheels to your shrine at the Cape in Canada. She says, "I got everything but money." She surely has! 0 Mother, what a joy she must be to you. Do get the money for her soon as possible that the hearts of all those handicappers may be aflame with love of you and Jesus.
Daddy was here a little while this afternoon. I was so anxious for word of Jimmy. 0 Mother, he is so alone, so hurt, my poor little brother. I such a stranger, so helpless to tell him how I love him. Go to him, Mother dear. Be gentle to this little one who needs you so.
Wednesday, September 11
This morning, when Jesus was so close, when the thought of Him quickened my poor heart, He whispered to His little hobo, "Many, many have desired to hold What you hold." 0 Mother, to hold Him for them, to love Him for them, to love them for Him! And somehow to bear Him for them, for the world. And to be in labor until He is known and loved by all! Somehow. You are my Mother. You know the Way.
Today was a big day for Good Sam. The inspectors were visiting, the Sisters were praying specially and the aides were like tin soldiers. Sam was polished from head to toe. Somehow it's sad to see the front we must put up once a year. "We know not the day nor the hour," yet we beg Jesus not to delay. For you are our Mother. 0 sweet consolation, holy hope!
Gene took me for a ride to the Romacks' this evening. The weather is heavenly. We took the wheelchair to his home, went in to meet his mother, then took a convertible to Mary's, top down! It was such fun, my first time. The fresh air sneaked through my hair, my fingers. Its kiss was sweet. But then it was gone, and I could smile. For Little Jesus seemed to tell me He wishes to teach me to love all things as I loved that breeze. And to smile when it is past and I remember.
Mary is fine, bearing the pain of Rosie's departure bravely. Mother, please be near her. She needs your sweet company. We had a bit of supper, chatted and listened to records. Got back to Good Sam about 9:30.
But it was such a surprise to find Sister Raphael waiting for me at the door. To learn that she'd called Mary, that she forbade me to go anywhere with Gene again, that she could have such little confidence in me. Yes Mother, it hurts. "From the fear of being suspected, Jesus, deliver me." Please.
0 Mother, how ugly am I who write to a Queen. Perhaps that's why it's good to send you letters. You need not look upon me and see how little I resemble your Jesus. How little prudence. Dear treasure house of all God's graces, help me to long for the riches our Father is so anxious to give.
Thursday, September 12
Greetings, Mary, on the feast of your holy name! You are full of grace, filled completely with the Love of God. You, the happiest of women, because of the happy Infant that nestles in the silent throbbings of your Immaculate Heart. Hail Mary, Daughter of God the Father! Hail Mary, Mother of God the Son! Hail Mary, Spouse of the Holy Spirit! Hail Mary, temple of the most Holy Trinity! Hail Mary, my mistress, my treasure, my joy, my mother, my life, my dearest hope, yes my heart and my soul! Hail Mary! Queen of my heart! MARY, I love your name. And I love to call you mother. Come, all little ones. Let us fall eternally Maryly in LOVE.
Jean came for me this morning to take me to Mary Romack's for our first "review." Blessed be God! It seemed that once again when I had surrendered all hopes of acquainting my family in Kokomo with Jesus-Caritas, then God chose to make our wills one. He waits for us to abandon the world, to lay it as a little toy at our feet.
It was wonderful, Mother. Lou will usually be with us, and I am happy that we shall be privileged with her presence also. Jean and Mary, there they sat before me this morning. What a thrill to know we were gathered in the name of Jesus' Love. Jean and Mary, two of my sisters. Two jewels. Jean resplendent in womanhood. Mary as a breath of spring in her childlike simplicity. And a hobo. A trinity become one in Jesus. And our hearts spoke.
And poor little Jeanie was there with us. She seems to be there to remind me of God's gifts. I ask, "My God, why these gifts in such abundance? Why a mind with which to learn of You that I may love You? And Jeanie cannot know You." Only that God be glorified in all His creatures. She seems to know somehow I love her, just as my little brothers and sisters at St. John's C.C.H. [Crippled Children's Hospital] knew, and smiled. It is good to see poor little ones smile. Somehow they have found something we in our complexities have overlooked.
After we had left Mary's, Jean and I continued our outpouring of Love in silence. Our tongues had said all, but our hearts raced on, and what sounded like the purr of a motor and the whistling of the wind was a woman and a little girl speaking as women usually speak. The most beautiful sound came when I heard the rustle of angel wings and a silent voice sang, "Hail Mary!"
Friday, September 13
After Jesus had come this morning it seemed that others came also to teach me to love Him. Did you send them, Mother dear? Thank you very much. 0 Mother, I long to learn to love Him. 0 thank you for your heart!
Mary Joan and Pat were there, so beautiful, so aflame with Love. Mary Joan was filled with joy, as she told me again and again, "God is magnificent! He is all-powerful, and He is good." And Pat softly spoke, "God is gentle. He understands, He weeps, He loves you." 0 God, tremendous Lover, have mercy on a little traitor who loves You!
Just this evening did I find a few precious moments to send Tony Frignito my little token to be placed at your feet in the Grotto at Lourdes. I found a little thank you card in some of the goodies Sister Blanche had given me. "You do the nicest things in the nicest way." Yes, Mother, so patient, kind, affectionate. And every little wish my heart contained as I sat there at your shrine with so many brothers and sisters is now and eternally mine. 0 Mother, what is there to say? I love you, that's all. I long to love you more.
Saturday, September 14
"We adore Thee, 0 Christ, and we bless Thee, because by Thy Holy Cross Thou hast redeemed the world." Now, Mother, He is yours. All His Life you've given Him to other little ones who cried for Him, while your loneliness reached a depth I cannot fathom, stupid little one that I am. Only God could hear the cry within your Immaculate Heart, for it was He Who cried there. Now He is gone; and here we stand gazing upon the stark outline of a plank, and another. I touch your hand, "Come, Mother, let's go home." And you pluck a red splinter before we descend and hand it to me. "For you, my child."
A letter from Fr. Lucien today! Little Jesus wrinkles His nose when I read Father's letters. He can't understand a word I'm saying cause I usually get so excited or tickled or something. The guest house will be ready for us the evening of Sunday, Sept. 29th, and will be Ours for the rest of the week. "Of course, come when you can on Sunday and we'll arrange to be occupied sufficiently--you don't want to spend any time in your room anyway. And please don't worry about pushers for you. Brother Donald, the flower-man told me it would be a privilege to show you around, especially all of God's and his handiwork in the flowers. A pair of binoculars to bring the birds closer, if you wish, and I've ordered a particularly heavy dew to fall during that week so you can scooch all over the grass. Also I've ordered a bit of fall coloring for the leaves--and a bit of Indian summer so the gophers will scamper around and maybe the old hooty owl too!…
"And don't worry about my schedule! It would be so selfish of me to want you all for myself, and you're too big to be absorbed by one person, so there'll be a battery of people of all kinds waiting to share company with you!…"
And Mother, here's what fell most sweetly upon the lonely heart of a hobo. "Remember the world is your HOME, especially this part that is so close to God. And we'll welcome you with open arms…" Yes, Mother, accipio, millionaire vagabond that I am, because I am your little one.
Sunday, September 15
Mother dear, night envelopes us and the day on which we remember your tears is drawing to a close. As I nestle here within your arms let the last of these fall upon my heart, and I shall treasure it here till the end of my exile. Then may it be but another jewel in the glorious crown we'll give a little brother of Jesus.
My precious Hilda was here to bring music to our little chapel this morning. And it seemed I heard Jesus' footsteps as Father arrived to offer the Holy Sacrifice for us once again. Footsteps that quickened my heart. 0 thank God that He would permit His little ones another Holy Mass in which we were consumed, offered, and sacrificed through, with and in Jesus.
Hilda, Paul and I went out for breakfast, then to visit Angel Greg's grave. Such a perfect day for a visit there. Surely it must have been your consolation that brought peace to Hilda and Paul. We brought some beautiful golden flowers for Angel Greg; I just know he loves them. And what of your new bouquet, Mother? Hilda gave me the little pale blue sweet peas that she took from the grave. Surely you must love angel flowers. And angels. And mommies and daddies of angels...
Just as we'd returned, Myrt called. Her voice is sweet, makes the heart of a little hobo sing. Perhaps in a few weeks we shall be together again, though never can I be far from her.
Monday, September 16
Look, Mother, I just knew I'd hear from Velma soon. I miss her; I love her, but I fear she doesn't know just how much. Such a poor, ignorant little sister am I to fail to understand, to see, to love. 0 God, forgive me! Please, Mother, stay with me always. Hold me close. To lose you would be the death of my hope. But now I know that you are with me, and that is enough. Here in your arms is rest for such a tired little hobo. I shall dream of Home and Jesus and you.
Here's something wonderful that came in the mail from "Our Betty" today, this little folder. Just open it, Mother, and see about the greatest advertisement yet. So many Christmas suggestions. And even cards I can afford. It will be such a joy to order cards from Betty and Alice. And there are magazines, books, calendars, rosaries, etc. 0 Mother, I think it's so exciting to see what Betty and Alice are doing. Betty completely helpless - so it seems - yet she SMILES and does everything.
Miss Slominski called this afternoon from the clinic. She says Alvin is there and I might come this week or the next. It's such short notice. I tried to phone Fr. Keith tonight but there was no answer. Will try again tomorrow morning. It's wonderful to think that maybe we'll be taking another trip to Indianapolis together, to chat, and just to BE so close in Jesus' Love. Miss Slo said she might find a different chair for me. 0 Mother, sometimes I do wish for more comfort. May God forgive those times, for surely I haven't prostrated myself long enough beneath the Cross of Jesus. He in so great agony; I in so great ease. Jesus, here I am, and I abandon myself, a little plaything to make You smile. I come to You through the sweet hands of Your Mother, and mine.
Dear Mother of Love, please take your little one this evening and throw her prostrate before the throne of Almighty God in reparation for the slaughter of bodies and souls in the racial crisis of our USA. 0 what more might I ask? If there were more to do for them I would fly to accomplish it. But Jesus has died for our crimes, and His death in me is the only Reparation.
Tuesday, September 17
Finally the privilege of speaking with Fr. Keith on the phone was mine this morning. 0 but such confusion. Forgive, Mother, I beg you to forgive my complaints. For it is in confusion that my heart feels all is at last wrested from its grip and there it stands before the throne of Almighty God in naked ugliness and sin. Thank God for confusion!
We shall go to the clinic together Oct. 9th. 0 Mother, it is such a joy to anticipate another day together in Love. 0 to be all things to all men, but especially to be YOU to another Christ!
Look, Mother, at the card Vie sent: "So here I am apologizing for not writing again--But will I change because of it? Nope! I'm the same as before! Day after day and year after year…never a change! Sometimes I marvel at my own consistency!" Isn't it cute? O Mother, life is so full of endless delights. Obtain for me the grace to appreciate all of them --well, almost all of them. If I try to encompass everything, I'll pop. It's a little useless showing you the check Vie sent with the card. It's dated yesterday, the same day I told you about the cards and toys I wished to order from Betty and Alice. Am I surprised? I've ceased to be thus. Only love remains, and remembrance of Jesus and you and Home.
Wednesday, September 18
Today Holy Mother Church raises Her voice in thanksgiving for our harvest. Ember Day. 0 Mother dear, it was such a special day. One cannot contain all this gratitude in the poverty and littleness of the human heart. But ours is a Mother who pours it endlessly before the throne of Almighty God. Thoughts of St. Meinrad have permeated all my joys today. Fr. Lucien's reminder that the world is my HOME, and Meinrad's special rank has been a tremendous consolation. I've needed this for so long, this special spot. When my precious Velma's home ceased to be this to me I became so confused without an earthly "somewhere." Just to know that it is there waiting for me, and a loved one, a big brother, waits too, is enough. 0 truly there is never a need, silly as might be the hobo's desires, that Divine Providence does not immediately supply. And so today we praise our Father for the crops He's lovingly tended, and especially those which nourish my loved ones at "home."
Here's another note from Fr. Sal, another joy I place upon the paten of my "master" that he may SERVE. 0 thank God for the Holy Priesthood! Sometimes, like today, I feel within my heart such a driving compulsion, such a duty to offer myself for our priests. Mother, you well know that I have nothing. Even the terrible poverty that apparently belongs to me has been consecrated to you and then surrendered by you entirely for another Christ. If I serve at all, it must be with your strength, your beauty, your heart. Nothing is mine but nothingness, and sin. 0 my Mother, if you give me not your Love for these little ones, surely eternal damnation is mine. But you are my Mother. That knowledge is sufficient.
It is once more time for rest. Nights are so long and dark and confusing. But to remember sitting at Jesus' feet and to hear once more His words of consolation is enough. I go to keep a rendezvous.
Thursday, September 19
We got to have a get-together at Jean's this morning. It was such a treat, had been so long since we'd been there. So many pretty changes in her home. And Jean was there, and Love, and all was beautiful. The bond between Jean and I seems to grow constantly to depths too deep for even my desires. Each time I am with her there are discoveries, and Christ. To have a dear one such as she here in Kokomo is a dream only Divine Love could have fashioned, and I may only surrender my joy to God and weep that my Love is yet so shallow.
Mary and I stayed for lunch with Jean. Strange how we always seem to get our special chat when the others have gone. Such openness between us, and Jesus-Caritas.
Friday, September 20
The mountains, the trees, the rivers flowing to the seas, the moon in the starry sky, the flowers, spring, songs, robins, the rain, light, companionship, Love, courage, Faith; for these, for all gifts, we thank Thee, Our Father.
I received a letter from dear Alvin today. She's really busy there at I.U. Will she take the C.P. post? God's Will is not yet clear. But with divine Patience He makes these things known to us. What need have we to grow anxious? God is Our Father. We but wait for His Word, Jesus.
For this evening's visit with Jesus in chapel I got to take with me a third class relic of St. Martin de Porres. It is a joy to know that he is my brother, that he is with me and Myrt and all our people. That is enough, that knowledge, and confidence. We cry for Freedom NOW.
Saturday, September 21
Good evening, Mother dear, on this happy feast of St. Matthew. Has it been a special day for my brother at Mt. Saviour? It is good to know that he is there, so good to be an "adopted" little sister. I know so little about my brother. But he's in Love with Jesus. That is enough.
And here at Good Sam we have our dear little Sister Matthew. What a joy she must be to Jesus, Ireland from head to toe, so short and round and happy. May she be so forever, with Jesus.
Did you hear of our "major operation" last night? Sister removed a very large splinter from my heel. I squirmed and squealed and giggled. It was such fun. Sister thought so too. Let me squirm now and then over splinters that in silence and strength I may receive Jesus' Cross. That is the most God's good earth can give. What Jesus came to embrace He offers me. And yet He bears the weight of it.
"I shall be in labor until the end of the world." The idea of Spiritual Motherhood has permeated this day the Lord has made. And the pains of childbirth you and I endure beneath the Cross of Jesus. Sweet pain, spare not this clod, but make me too a mother, fashioned in the beauty and the anguish of the Mother of God. There are multitudes of little ones - waiting. And Our Father waits so patiently and anxiously for His children. Waits for me to climb a hill, to die.
It was such a delight to see my family at supper time tonight, my poor, elderly brothers and sisters. They got cornbread, and they smiled so big. I love to see them smile. Their eyes are usually filled with loneliness. It takes such wee things to make them happy. Do they know how little Jesus is? The aides get so impatient, angry at times, hoping "they never get that old and cranky." They know not what they are doing, speaking so harshly to them. They know not that Jesus is waiting to greet them so soon, that Heaven is so near in this house, that Jesus lives under our roof in the most Blessed Sacrament. They don't know for they haven't yet seen Him in my eyes and my smile and heard Him in my voice. Only with your Immaculate Heart can I love Him and bring Him the silent Joys of Nazareth once more. Please Mother, love Jesus through me.
0 these bitter temptations of late! So painful so strong. Never has Satan played upon my handicap so. He calls it laziness. This evening I tried to say Stations on my feet. 0 Mother, even Jesus needed aid, yet I was trying to sport my "independence" in His Sacred Presence. My legs crumbled thrice, my back and head throbbed, and at last I was nailed to this cross and in joy cried, "Into Thy hands I commend myself." Accipio!
Sunday, September 22
The Son of God was sacrificed upon our little altar once more, and in our hearts. 0 please, beautiful Mother, pour our gratitude, mingled and inseparable from yours, before the throne of almighty God, Our Father. Jesus is ours, and we are His, and all is Peace.
It is good to be alone with Him on Sunday. Usually our people are so busy that day with parties and visits and anything that can't be squeezed into a workday. But today all was quiet, and He was here. That was enough. We were together, Jesus and I.
Some ladies from St. Joan of Arc Rosary Society were here later in the afternoon with little candies for our people. Bert Russell was with them, and sure enough she dropped in after her rounds for a sweet chat. She is a special darling of Jesus, I know. So filled with love and service in the lay apostolate. I greeted her and squeezed her and nearly forgot to let go. It would be easy to forget. With many of God's wonders I DO forget. Please help me to remember the breeze I loved.
Do you love our Mr. Foltz "special?" I too. Each day as I'm on my way to chapel he yells a big hello to me. I usually ask him how he is, and his reply is no complaint, simply the bare facts, "Not so good." But if I go to his bedside to ask him it's, "Pretty good!" Tonight he even regretted not saving his candies for me. It was so cute. Mother dear, please remember each of my dear ones here, especially those to whom I cannot go. Do go to them yourself gentle Mother. How happy they will be.
Our dear Fr. Kohne surprised us with his return this afternoon. It is so good to know he is here. He's yet very unsteady on his feet and extremely thin, his arm rather useless. But he's here, and we're so joyous. And he too!
Monday, September 23
Jesus, meek and humble of heart, I long to be like You. I've failed again today, but I've begun again. Perhaps somehow I can renew the Holy Sacrifice of the Mass at mealtime. That way I won't dread it so. 0 Mother, how I wish we could be happy together as we partake of Our Father's gifts. But every aide wears a scowl. They throw their dishes on the table. They call our food garbage and refuse to eat it. They'll either send out for a sandwich or wait till they get home to fix something "decent." And then they delight in sitting there listening to the bells and the calls of the patients and flaunting their authority by either ignoring them or going to scold them but never to give them what they ask for, because they're busy eating dinner. 0 Mother it's terrible of me to go on and on like this. Jesus recently told me not to complain so. Please beg His forgiveness for me. Why do I bring this to you I love, you to whom I long to bring beautiful gifts? Perhaps because I know you love me. While others have no time to listen to less joyous tales, or perhaps more subtly joyous, you know. You smile, and now I can smile. Please, Mother dear, pray for us sinners.
Daddy came this afternoon, and at last I got to do some rather urgent shopping. Something Daddy said as I was getting into the car rather hurt. "I suppose your list is a mile long. 0 well, we'll cross out three-fourths of the list today." Although I got all the necessities, yet my sensitive little girl's heart still feels that sting. I've always been so very cautious about asking for nothing but essentials. I've watched Daddy buy the most expensive of suits and now I'm seeing my brother being sent through college while I who longed to be a special educational teacher for the poor little ones live in an old people's home. Daddy told me today he had requested to pay for my room here. But it was to avoid a clash with Uncle Sam that he did so. I'm a very bad little hobo right now, Mother, I know. But I have a precious brother on retreat. Do take these tears that his may be joy. I know the weather has a lot to do with this depression. Every discomfort is very intensified. But in the very depths of my being is Christ and Peace. Lead me, Queen of all hearts, to Jesus. And gladly will I endure these surface turbulences. Please help my unbelief.
Did you see our purchases? I'm so happy about the brown skirt. It's so heavy and warm. Already Good Sam is mighty crisp. My legs have been blue and my arms bumpy for two days. So the skirt will help. It's so good to be cold for Jesus. I never wear my sweater so that my blood will build up, and also my resistance. Then all winter I can love Him Whose royal dress was rags and Whose warmth was a mother's breast. And how about the new pink nightgown? It's so long and warm and femininy fancy with its ruffles. Please send sweet perfumes of gratitude to Our Father from His little lily. And tell Him the drop of moisture resting in the heart of my petals is but refreshing dew in which He will find Jesus' image when He stoops to smell.
Tuesday, September 24
Really, Mother, sometimes it's hard to say whether certain good Samaritans irritate or amuse. Like Mrs. Cox. This morning she helped me with my bath. The poor dear rubbed my shampoo all over my back and legs and would have gone further had I not protested, telling her it was just for my hair. She thought she'd give me an extra-clean feeling! Really, it's pitiful to see some of the ladies who try to work here. They are so poor and unable to find work elsewhere. Their poverty has bred ignorance. 0 how miserable their lot. They make blunder after blunder. 0thers scoff at them. They try so hard only to fail again, these poor little ones of Jesus. Please teach me to show them His Love incessantly, to give them kind words instead of the usual reproaches heaped upon them. Someday they will find Love and rejoice.
Our new sister arrived this afternoon, her room right next to where I sleep upstairs. My Jesus, mercy! She lies there with only animal instincts left. She tears the clothes and blankets from her, trying to find enough strength to shred them. She yells out continually but her words are incoherent. 0 my poor sister! My poor family here, throughout the world. Gentle Mother, never forget that we are your little ones. Please never forget. Without you my tears would be incessant. But you are beautiful, and with you I shall always smile, you the Queen of Martyrs and the happiest of all women.
Wednesday, September 25
Mr. Mailman was so kind today. Recently he's seemed rather cold, but that was just because my hoboing really put a kink in correspondence.
Here's a letter from Our Betty. Everything is in readiness for our visit there weekend after retreat. The date is fine with Mother Madeleine, and there's even a chance that Mother M. Jean may arrive while we're there. Ooo! Betty filled me in on her and Alice's "strict routine." It sounds just great. And there is sleeping room for both Daddy and me right there at their home. Guess they've had many guests this summer, so they're prepared. These two grand sisters. To think that mine is the privilege of knowing and loving them brings such joy and gratitude to my heart. Betty, God's very powerful little nothing, and Alice, dedicating her life to care for Christ suffering. Please, Mother, keep them in your TLC.
0 Mother dear, thank you for refreshing the heart of a poor little sister with a letter from her missionary! Somehow, someday, please dear Queen of co-missionaries, make me worthy of him.
Thursday, September 26
When I was sitting with Jesus at noon today, there were two little candles burning, almost consumed. They were so pretty, almost doing a ballet for Jesus at times, and then again glowing in the silence of Love. One burned tall and courageous; the other was leaning far to one side. Yet I watched the first die in peace and silence. And the second burned on. Jesus and I watched it together. And we giggled. For that little flame was apparently gone so often, but then it would hold its head high once more. When Betty came for me it was still peeking over the top of the candlestick.
Friday, September 27
Today is Jimmy's birthday. I know you didn't forget, Mother dear. It is good to have written to him as I did in a note with his card, good to have told him all that is in my heart, all that I feel found its echo is his heart. I wrote to a stranger whom I love so much, and this I told him. Some beautiful Someday we shall be reunited, and the sufferings we've borne together are not worthy to be compared to the joy we shall share.
This morning when I went to my beloved Jesus Who had waited patiently, silently loving, all night, I stayed in the back of our lovely little chapel. And when Father came to distribute Holy Communion each Sister glanced my way and wondered. It is so strange not to receive Him with others. But I wished to wait till Holy Mass. An instinctive desire would be to explain my apparent indifference to each of the curious Sisters. But then that's kinda dumb. It makes little difference what they thought. 0 to live in the Presence of almighty God, striving ever to please Him and knowing there is no other happiness and there need be no other.
It was good for us to be together at Holy Mass this morning, Jean, Mary and Little Virginia of Jesus present in the place of Lou. There we were in the name of Jesus' Love, and there that very Love permeated all around and within us. We feasted upon the Living Bread, and we fed each other.
Then we went to Lou's "dollhouse." It's so like her, so frilly and little and femininy. In honor of little Therese we spoke mostly of simplicity. 0 Mother, such a gift has God given us here in Kokomo to permit such spiritual communication to flourish. Truly I am not worthy to be a little sister of anyone. Sometimes it seems Jesus looks for weaknesses, and when He has found the worst it is in these that He manifests the omnipotence of His strength.
I was happy to give my sisters the holy cards Fr. Keith sent us, those pictures of our own little brother Charlie. In all his labors my missionary forgets not the least of his flock. You know, Mother, that the Fraternity booklets stress the importance of a chaplain in these groups. Truly nothing has been denied us. And in receiving Father's gift this morning we thanked God that we DO have one to guide us. Though we may not see him, yet the love t