This was her first letter to me after our meeting, Easter, 1965

May 3, 1965

I am with you always, alleluia!

This letter has been postponed long enough so I must resign myself to send you less than the eloquence my heart would like. Truly words are one of our greatest poverties in this exile. But there is always The Word. I love to listen with you.

Thank you, my precious brother, for Easter! Kahlil Gibran, my favorite poet, has said well what my little Magnificat enclosed fails to express. In Jesus, the Son of Man he says of our beloved Lord and Brother, "He spoke of leaves that sing only when blown upon the wind; and of man as a cup filled by the ministering angel of the day to quench the thirst of another angel. Yet whether that cup is full or empty it shall stand crystalline upon the board of the Most High."

Forever,

Little Virginia of Jesus

Included in the envelope, on a separate sheet of paper, was the following:

TAKE AND DRINK

Pascaltide, 1965

for quentin my thirst

May 12, 1965

Mon Ami de la Croix,

Word from you was a precious birthday gift. I'd been gone for the weekend and returned to find that wonderfully bulky envelope awaiting me. It was on the bottom of an unusually high stack of mail, and it was all I could do to follow my petite asceticism of reading my mail in the order in which it's placed on my desk. But when at last I came to it I was happy in reading and rereading what eyes have said so often. I love those windows to your soul; it must be many tears that have washed them so clean. My lips kept speaking, in my joy, the words, "O God" & "O Love," unconscious of which of the synonyms they uttered.

Then yesterday, Fr. Eugene's birthday, bit of Christmas, your birthday envelope arrived. Thank you for monkey business and protesting and YOU. What is the date of your birth? To share these days is one of the luxuries friendship affords, a more tangible consciousness of the Communion that we share forever.

On the anniversary of my birth and Baptism I was privileged to be present as my beloved Fr. Keith offered the tremendous Sacrifice in the tiny hospital chapel at Elwood. Isn't it wonderful how suddenly words of the Gospel that were formerly read or heard suddenly become our very life? They wouldn't hush, "I've come that they may have life abundantly." There was the essence of womanhood, and I who have barely endured being called a woman instead of a little girl suddenly accepted the title and knew it was mine and loved it.

Wish you could have been there as I huffed and puffed at the candles on my birthday cake. O how present you were to me. There was one candle that flatly refused to let me extinguish it. No, it wasn't one of those trick candles. I grew so breathless I finally shoved the thing to Fr. Keith and let him do the honors. It reminded me of our Easter. No matter how much my foolish blindness hid from me, you remained my flicker of joy and hope and I was satisfied. My weakness could not have borne total darkness.

The Easter condition has not been remedied, and Fr. Keith thinks that because it's matched by this physical aridity I should consult a doctor. Just might help. So we're going the 26^th to the clinic I think. Kinda nice to anticipate the trip with Father; I've been wondering how long I'd remain so "disgustingly healthy" as to be deprived of a journey to Indianapolis with him. Meanwhile I look at my poor heart and cannot help but mutter, "The tomb is empty, alleluia!!!"

Here comes your graduation. Next week I'll be with the Sisters of the Precious Blood at the Shrine of Holy Relics in Maria Stein, Ohio. It should be a rather quiet week, unless Sisters do a lot more visiting than they used to. Hope they do. Sister Superior seems anxious to learn of the Jesus-Caritas Fraternity and it would be such a delight to let the good news spread, to be as you say that tiny grain of sand lodged, without their awareness or mine, among them.

Forever,

Little Virginia of Jesus

 Included with the letter was a printed prayer that she had cut out of a magazine.

June 1, 1965

Mon ami,

Never could I more truly tell someone, "I'll see you in the funny papers." You're all over the page! How much you're in my prayerful thoughts these clippings suggest.

And retreat? I learned of it when I read your letter Tues., somewhat later than you began, yet I'm not so sure I thought of you any MORE that week. O but it was good to know what you were doing that I might share it even more intimately with you.

My stay with the Srs. of the Precious Blood at Maria Stein, Ohio, was a virtual retreat. It was O so quiet, precious time in the tutelage of "A Woman Wrapped in Silence," and also Little Brother Charles of Jesus. The Blessed Sacrament is perpetually exposed, and one difficult part of my stay was that I SLEPT so much. ESPECIALLY on your graduation day. It was to be a day in the desert for all the graduating Fraters. No oasis this time; think I was selfishly expecting that. Just sleep and such nausea as to keep nothing on my stomach. When the time with Jesus terminated at 5:30, and I went to have supper with the help there, AOK. Jesus takes my invitations SO seriously. I'm glad. Things livened up that weekend when about 30 Junior Sisters invaded my heart. O it was grand. We chattered and went for a ride in a VW bus, shared so much. Their superior invited me to go spend some time at the Motherhouse in Dayton, and I warned her about such rash invitations. I just might do it.

Busy days these are; I hope it's always Our Father's business. May 24^th with a class of 15 retarded children. Such innocence! Tomorrow I'll be with them on their end-of-school picnic.

There was a letter from fr. Emmanuel awaiting my return to Sam that night. My dear family, its increase makes my weakness and God's strength so tangible.

Come Holy Spirit, renew our faces and our earth! How might I be specific in my request for you, I who know only my own desires but often not my needs? But I beg Him to fill your heart yet more abundantly. A little one has said, "I couldn't be any happier unless I grew." And I pray for your beatitude.

You will let me know if there's a chance of your blessing my little corner, won't you? I'll be gone several days this month to Elwood but would happily return for any day that might bring you here. Or if Elwood is on your route, then I'd stay there, though I hope it will be here at Sam that you might see this school of Love. But that school is everywhere. Keep me posted on your hoboing.

With you always till faith becomes Vision,

Little Virginia of Jesus

4

July 3, 1965

Friend!

The word is often used loosely, yet no one but we can know its definition when I address it to you. You ARE taming this wild little red rose, and you're a prince for trying.

The phone call - I hope you weren't disappointed. I've never been so agitated with a machine. You're SO easy to be with, but there was that thing asking me to speak and my love wouldn't permit it. Will you excuse another quote from Gibran? He often comes to my rescue. "When love becomes vast, love becomes wordless. And when memory is overladen, it seeks the silent deep."

The retreat was so good, another manifestation that "I've come that they may have life, abundantly." And upon my return there was your letter, ON TOP. I didn't argue one bit; word from you is SO dear to me.

Here I am back in some semblance of routine. It is sweet, reminds me of Jesus' days at Nazareth. No, I didn't go to Dayton, and it was good. I'm very weary these days. It seems so easy to toss myself into Our Father's hands; it's too much work to do anything else. How incomprehensible, how wonderful!

Will you help me with a special day for our dear Fr. Eugene on his feastday the 8^th? The days are fleeing, and so soon we'll be together once more in our pilgrimage Home. Father Colman's first Mass in Evansville will be Sept. 12^th, and I'm making plans to ramble thataway. And "I am with you always."

Little Virginia of Jesus

5

August 16, 1965

Hello Happiness!

Perhaps you'd chuckle if I'd try to explain how very dear is word from you. It is sometimes frightening how revealing love can be, whispering secrets of tears and laughter, revealing what cannot and need not be told otherwise. Thank you for the goodies. You know, I loved most the little tippler leaning against the Son. Glad you can't see this little tippler right now, every now and then laying her head on the typewriter. My medication has been doubled, and it is SUCH an adjustment. Glad it's now so that I'll be a little sensible for our visit. It's coming! O Quentin, with what anxiety must we anticipate eternity if moments with you can set me to this singing?

You're not enthused over messy schedules, good. It's a terrific adjustment each time I leave my corner. O what did it not cost Jesus to leave Nazareth? But when Love calls, everything must be dropped.

I've spent one week in Ft. Wayne recently. Then the week of August 1^st in Ohio with Vic and his mother. It was SO good to be with Vic; we'd never chatted at the monastery. He's so quiet and beautiful.

Saw Br. Kim yesterday in Muncie at the dedication of my cousin's church. And Fr. Keith on that 3^rd anniversary of my being his co-missionary.

And so soon, Sept. 10^th, I'll be there with you, without this pecking, just being together!!

Virginia signed this letter with a "Charlie heart," drawn with a red ball point pen.

She included with this letter Gerard Manley Hopkins' poem, "The Blessed Virgin Compared to the Air we Breathe." She had typed the poem on fine, handmade paper that was then hand sewn into a little booklet.

6

This was her first letter to me after our second opportunity to spend some time together in September, 1965.

Oct. 1, 1965

"One runs the risk of weeping a little, if one lets himself be tamed . . ."

My little prince, the tears are sweet because of the color of the wheat fields, and the sound of music, and the surrender of a crutch, and a secret snicker after a deep breath, and silence that speaks.

All this Love, all this Love! Please continue to teach me what to do with it. I'm too little to contain it. Let God's prodigality spill it where He will. So many seeds are hidden in His desert.

Well, my precious "buddy," correspondence is nearly frightening and soon I'll follow Him and leave my overstuffed desk again. So I must wade through as many written treasures as possible.

Please find me always at your banquet table where our Bread is sweet and our Wine perhaps a little salty.

 Forever,

Little Virginia of Jesus

7

Oct. 8, 1965

Hi!

Your note served greater purposes than you might have desired. I'm glad it wasn't in the stack of mail I plowed through upon my return. It was so special that instead of finding it on my desk with the rest of my mail that Saturday when I returned from my hour with Jesus, I found it alone on my dinner tray to fill me for that time with Him. So often have I wanted to quote to you a certain poem, but then I remember that it's YOURS.

Jesus' Love!

Yours

8

October 28, 1965

Boo!

My precious little prince, what joy it is to send still more loving prayers for you (though I'm depending on Mother to show me how this increase is possible) on the feast of our King.

I've just returned from Gary; divine grace was nearly tangible. It was a beautiful visit. O and there was another Priest thrown upon my way, one aglow with joyous simplicity. A friend of mine from Sr. Blanche's office entered the hospital the day after my arrival, to suffer the final stages of cancer. Though she'd received no visitors, she waited for a hobo, and I was with her at least twice a day. She kept a beautiful sense of humor and remained alert to the very end. Just to be told she was prayed for made her happy, and though her family was anti-Catholic, she was anointed and died gripping the crucifix I gave her to hold when we two weren't holding hands under the oxygen tent. This was my closest contact with death, and for just a little bit the temptation to beg that my hoboing be ended soon was there. But almost immediately the words, "Not to die but to suffer!" were alive in me and I knew that with Brother Charles I'd be willing "for the sake of the Gospel to travel to the ends of the earth and to live till the end of time." I'm so grateful for all that this death has already brought me. I didn't have to bid her farewell; she died the day I was to leave Gary, while I was at the Holy Sacrifice for her. O exquisite Tenderness!

I remember our Friendship and smile. Climb another step, Quentin; I who sit resting near the bottom am happy in your ascent which is also mine because of our union in Love.

Forever,

Yours

9

November 12, 1965

Peace!

The day at the clinic was filled with conflicting opinions and no relief. But there is the joy of a greater response to the "Follow Me" of my King Hobo. What more might I ask?

For a few days I've been totally voiceless with laryngitis. It's been rather fun; everyone whispers back.

This Wednesday I'm to board a plane in Indianapolis San Francisco bound, to spend two weeks with Mama. My poor, precious mama, I'll grasp all her anguish almost greedily for Jesus. To do more I'm helpless, yet He alone knows true values.

On my return December 1^st, I'll spend the night at the Little Sisters' apartment in Chicago. That's the anniversary of our Brother Charles' martyrdom, and such a precious time to be there in their city-desert.

There is so so much more, you know. . .

Forever,

Little Virginia of Jesus

10

December 4, 1965

My joy and my crown,

Because YOU ARE, I am a little princess. Happiness is letting myself be so loved by you. Womanhood is the outstretched arms of the Pieta, but there to receive because there is nothing more to give.

It was a good visit in Frisco. I became Mama's little clown, and there was laughter for a little bit. But I am so weary with pretending, and how I long for the hilltop you are, where I shall breathe freely, unworthy as I am of those depths.

O Quentin, I'm glad we're in no contest in delighting one another. How well you know the heart of your little rose; often you've seen a drop of dew there when no one else bothered to look. The letter awaiting me at the Little Sisters' was so precious, so timely.

That evening was the anniversary of the death of our Little Bro. Charles, so the Little Sisters awaited my arrival to begin their hours of night adoration. I was given the final hour so I might rest a little. Then I was kissed by one of my most severe headaches in weeks. It was impossible to sleep, so I scooched just the little distance to the tiny chapel, and had the joy of sharing in EACH Little Sister's hour with Jesus. The whole building is infested with roaches, and there we knelt together before our beloved Lord and Brother Jesus, creepy crawlers free to climb over our legs, etc. Somehow, it meant nothing.

Tomorrow I'll go to Maria Stein, Ohio. There is simply no let up in this hoboing, but I MUST follow Him, and He is everywhere. How blessed to know He can toss me about as He pleases. It's nice at Maria Stein. I have time to read and the Blessed Sacrament is perpetually exposed, so perhaps I'll get a little rest.

I'm more than ready for my trip south; SEE YA SOON. O Quentin, when God sent you to me He truly made Christmas perpetual! This Advent I know that the little prince I await has hair the color of wheat. Wheat was the bouquet in the Little Sisters' chapel; I'm glad. So the 18^th I'll be there to see your face and laugh because I cannot realize how much more present to me you can be.

Forever,

Yours

11

The next communication was a Christmas card, mailed December 18, 1965. On a typewritten sheet within the card Virginia had written out the following passage from "The Velveteen Rabbit."

"What is real?" asked the Rabbit one day. "Does it mean having things that buzz inside you and a stick out handle?"

"Real isn't how you are made," said the Skin Horse. "It's a thing that happens to you. When a child loves you for a long, long time, not just to play with, but really loves you, then you become Real."

"Does it hurt?" asked the Rabbit.

"Sometimes," said the Skin Horse, for he was always truthful. "When you are Real you don't mind being hurt."

"Does it happen all at once, like being wound up," he asked, "or bit by bit?"

"It doesn't happen all at once," said the Skin Horse. "You become. It takes a long time. That's why it doesn't often happen to people who break easily, or have sharp edges, or who have to be carefully kept. Generally, by the time you are real, most of your hair has been loved off, and your eyes drop out and you get loose in the joints and are very shabby. But these things don't matter at all, because once you are Real you can't be ugly, except to people who don't understand."

12

This letter was hand written. While visiting the monastery, Virginia usually received invitations to visit families in neighboring cities. She wrote this while on one such visit.

Monday, 1966

Hi Ugly!

Early this morning I rode through the world's breathless stillness to receive Jesus and you, that precious "hi" which echoes through the eternity of our Being.

It is good for me to be here; it is good for you to be here. Everything of God is good.

Cari will take me to the Haydens' this Sunday, so I'll return to the monastery perhaps a week later.

Quentin, be what you are always. My delight is to draw Our Father's attention to you and know He is pleased.

forever,

me

13

Jan. 27, 1966

Still, HI!

O the joy of your presence; Quentin, I KNOW there can be no separation. Only bodies can be torn apart; but our love is as the angels'.

Tomorrow I'll be admitted to St. Joseph's Hosp. here in town. Tests, etc. How long, I keep wondering. But I follow Him to where He is crucified and know His name is mine.

Little Virginia of Jesus

14

Feb. 3, 1966

Sigh!

It is something strange and wonderful to have left that hospital bed. From Friday till Wednesday I lay wedged there with the top and bottom rolled up as far as they'd go, in a rather "Q-ish" position I suppose. Everyone thought it was a prodigal kindness to let me get up long enough to sit on the commode a couple times a day. Food was zoomed into my mouth; I didn't bother to ask what it was. Somehow it was SO good to see the lengths that Prayer of Abandonment can take us. My radio having gone up in smoke and my books out of reach, I could but scooch a little more securely into Our Father's strong arms and listen.

There were those who walked slowly or wheeled past my door. There was the anxious or despairing loved ones. There was the young boy with the make-shift corner in the hall, tossing and suppressing complaints from the pain of gall stones. There were those who entered one day spry and spreading cheer who, after surgery, lay there only conscious of pain and the voice of a dear one repeating a question to which they couldn't respond. One jolly fella with a leg amputated spoke of "phantom pains;" the toes that weren't there were truly hurting him.

Forever,

Little Virginia of Jesus

15

Feb. 13, 1966

Mon ame!

"…in her heart she would not choose this lesser gift of love, and found again it was her chosen part to only stand in silence, seeing Him, to be so strong she could endure, not her wounds, but His own, that she could bear His cross that was not hers." A Woman Wrapped in Silence

O to bring for you one day THIS. But now I bring my waiting and desire, these my prayer, my surge to God for and with you.

Forever,

Your funny valentine

I received a greeting card from Virginia postmarked March 1, 1966. Within the card were four smaller pieces of cardboard. Three of the cards contained hand written messages, the fourth a felt-tipped pen drawing with the words: "Glad you're you." Each was written while she was in the hospital for tests. The three letters are below.

16

The Word of a Woman Wrapped in Silence has transubstantiated what is god in me to the Heavens in you.

Amen, alleluia!

Yours

17

Feb. 19, 1966

Mon Ame,

My thought, my prayer, is you. Yes, just one, and it is so great I can't anticipate tomorrow. "Sufficient for the day is the miracle thereof."

No strength, no voice, no explanation for anything but the best of all explanations, Jesus' pleasure. That is enough. So heat packs and whirlpools and pills and snuggling in the insecurity that has always been my security will be mine for at least another week.

It is good to be here. The friendships with the nurses, lying here sharing the lot of so many others, rest, fits of music, reading, gala bouts with marking pens, waiting for I know not what, all is some treasure for the taking. In my need I receive for you, Quentin.

Tuesday is a happy anticipation; your family will be here. What is yours seems twice mine in the totality of your gift. No more competing with your love, for you are mon ame.

Well, just a little bit ago I had a sleeping capsule, so I'd better make that act of abandonment that takes me from these busy corridors to a father's strong arms. Crunch!

Forever,

yours

18

Mon. afternoon

Hi!

How near and dear you are. And I need you so. Mon ame, my joy is that YOU ARE.

Did your mom tell you of the book she'd just discovered? She stared at the book on my lap. Yes, it followed me here too. Sister Blanche discovered A Woman Wrapped in Silence at the bookstore and after just mentioning it to me, ordered it. Maybe I recommended it or something?

The Little Sisters of Jesus were here once, all four of them, so precious, simple, lovable.

O Quentin, how can I deny these are rough times? To you it doesn't seem complaint, just a more painful part of our giving. Jesus is stripped. What else is there for me than what is His? So my gowns fall from me; I can't crawl an inch to get anything; my hair uncombed, time is but waiting to do another's wish. It seems everything but Everything is gone from me; O to use this precious lesson. Pray with me. I have no prayer in which you do not share. I am weak and temptations are strong. But already Love is victor.

This is two hours of the days given me now for squandering. I must stop, but I have a lifetime to squander just as Another pinned upon a beam. And you with me! Hi!

Forever,

yours

19

Wed. afternoon

Hi!

Today is the first day I've dared such hopes. The "withdrawal" from my medication was a nightmare. But soon the dawn and rejoicing that my Lent is such a share in Jesus. Really, mon ame, you've helped me so I'll never be able to tell you how much. But then, when did our love ever require explanations. O Quentin….

Forever,

yours

P.S. Just phoned your mother, and I'll be going to your home this Saturday. Doc. says okay. Laughs at my irrepressible hobo instincts.

20

Virginia wrote the following letter after her visit with my family. She included with the letter some of my sister Ann's notes to her, as well as the plastic bracelet she wore in the hospital.

Laetare, 1966

Mon ame!

Here's but another link in our love. I keep telling Jesus I can't imagine another, but His supplies are inexhaustible.

The "withdrawal" was something tremendous; I could never have imagined such torment; therefore I could never have gathered the cries of all who must be enduring worse tortures right now. But then to be put back on the same stuff, O what faith it took NOT to think of time and strength wasted. But this is an experience that I shall cling to; it is so that together we can better hurl ourselves into Love again this Easter. I'm doing quite well, caring for myself, no choking. Everything is so much more precious because it is being slowly given back and for the first time I see gifts where before I but saw what I thought should be mine.

As for the voice, I remember that soon we shall be together and nothing seems less important. We talked to the neurologist just before I left the hospital, and he said it was an inevitable development of my brain damage which perhaps the medication sped but did not cause. Because I told him speech is nothing to caring for myself, relief from pain, etc., he has me on my full medication again, and I may judge dosage increases. Dr. Jahns hates the stuff, calls it garbage and tells me there is a danger of developing Parkinson's disease. But even this is nothing to being able RIGHT NOW to care for myself, peck my notes, follow Jesus and in the novelty of each day realize my vocation.

Already we've ordered an audio aid phone. It's in a kit about the size of a man's shaving kit, and in it are 2 receivers, batteries and adjustment for loudness. Each whisper is intelligible. O not that I think I'll ever use the thing with YOU. But for my week with the Sisters in Owensboro I'll still be able to give Mother my eyes, read to her, etc.

Let's gaze at one another and sing "Holy, holy, holy!" at the evening Mass April 2^nd. Daddy and I hope to be there in time.

Forever,

Little Virginia of Jesus

21

March 30, 1966

Hi!

The first anniversary of something beyond the title of friendship, and we may magnify Love together. Gabe wrote quite a commentary on your violin playing; now I must demand a concert. Quentin, see ya really soon and we'll whisper the Word or merely contemplate It in Love's Presence.

Forever,

Little Virginia of Jesus

22

April 24, 1966

Hi!

May the perpetual greeting, the Word, the Shalom, that incessantly flows through our hearts continue to transform all that is us into the Eternal.

O Quentin…what more is there for us to say? Because you are, I know Love lives. Help me to know ever more intimately. I do need you so. To make me little enough to love I need to need you. It's so great I'll need eternity to accept your gift. And I ask you again to HAVE A HEART, mine.

Must be scooting. Yes, correspondence is "heaven"-high, and somehow this batch is SO heavy. A new correspondent beaten daily by her drunk father; an epileptic with increased seizures; my Ghanan Father laboring under intense back pains; someone else so enmeshed in sexual problems; my Maronite monk in Rome to have surgery…Guess I do need my "Amen" enforced!!

Forever,

yours

23

May 2, 1966

Mon Ame,

It's a bit lonely without the sound of "our" ring every now and then as my hand slips and I hit something on or around the typewriter. That ping was another love ya. But the other day, in spite of that callous I'd worked up to keep it there, our precious greenish-silver band went for a spin and buried itself in one of Sam's many cracks. I know which one but don't know where it leads, to the furnace I think. Kinda appropriate, huh? I do miss it, and I just know Jesus smiles at one who's given herself "totally" to Him yet betrays surprise when He comes to claim something. Of course, I hurriedly claimed a substitute, grabby little thing that I am. And just guess what I found myself lifting to Him as an eternal symbol of Our betrothal…your love that has become so entwined in my very self. O Quentin, sometimes I seem so presumptuous with your love, yet it's because it is so Jesus' that I know I can be so prodigal and pray that you may feel the same with mine.

A friend sent me a copy of a poem the other day and my first impulse was an anxiety to send it to you. I was so anxious that I typed it that night for Mother so she could get it to you before I could. However, in the mere typing I changed my mind about it. At any rate, here it is:

"I love you not only for what you are, but for what I am when I am with you. I love you not only for what you are making of yourself, but also for what you have made of me. I love you for the part of me that you brought out. I love you for putting your hand in my heaped-up heart, and passing over all the foolish and frivolous and weak things you could not help seeing there. I love you for drawing out into the light all the beautiful and radiant qualities that no one else had looked quite deep enough to find. I love you for ignoring the possibility of the fool in me, and laying hold of the possibility of the good. I love you for closing your ears to all the discords in me, and for adding harmony in me by reverent listening. I love you because you helped to make the structure of my life not a tavern but a temple, and the words of my days not a reproach but a song. You did it by being yourself, and you shall always remain as someone very special in my heart!!!"

This Saturday will be Annie's 1^st Communion. The other day, in the card shop, I was looking at Wish-Nic outfits to send her and found a Bride-Nic which can surely be a First CommuNic!

Riddle: What does the 87-lb. hobo say to the ugly monk? I love you so much I MUST grow to contain it all! And yet contain it I cannot; like the Divine Prodigality that fills us, I must leave it everywhere. Quentin…sigh.

Forever,

yours

24

May 7, 1966

Love - and you are,

Your phrase "so serenely intense" epitomizes so much of life these days. Thank you! For the phrase? You know better than that; for All.

Last Thursday evening we went to Elwood for our 1^st gathering since Dec. 2^nd. So many, many faces to scan, secrets to discover. O and their hurt at suddenly seeing me so bedraggled; it would have been much easier not to have gone. But since when was ours an easy way? Jesus our Way endured anything but glory when we set His throne to tower over this anthill of ours. Fr. Keith sat next to me and we supped hot honey together. "Will you drink of my cup?" O Quentin, we have, in the poverty this love has so graciously imposed upon us, but one cup. It will not be, has not been, usually honey that we sip together. And its bottom is as limited as eternity. But it is our cup, to raise and know it is the blood of our life.

Today, Saturday, is Annie's 1^st Communion day, and it awakened in me such happy memories. Got a note from Annie today, homemade tulip (only God could do better) and the first 2 lines: Dear Virginia, I'm lazy like you. She's so, so dear. There is much to learn from her love notes. Even little ones feel a need for identification with those they love.

Forever and ever, AMEN! (Add what you please; I'm KINDA accepting the assistance now.?! Kinda.)

yours

25

May 13, 1966

Mon Ame,

Naturally (super-naturally I know) your card landed on the bottom of my stack of mail the 10^th. It was as if Divine Kindness, knowing the heaviness in that day's correspondence, let the assurance of your tremendous love once more strengthen me. O Quentin, it is the most beautiful card in the world!

Annie writes "Dear Virginia, I'm lazy like you." Just another proof that love longs for identification. It takes a little one, an Annie or a Bro. Charles, to bring it home to us.

The other day I was competing with the noise box outside my door for a nap, and the TV was far ahead. Then I overheard a young girl in one of the soap operas complain, "You know what love is? It's a trap! Just because someone loves you, you have to love him back." Here we are, trapped together. Hooray!

Last night Ruth took me to see the movie "Patch of Blue," a beautiful lesson on integration, attitudes toward the physically handicapped and several other things. Hope you get to see it someday. O and the cartoon was so unique. It was a romance between a dot and a line. We stayed to watch it a second time.

Gotta scoot now. This afternoon I'll visit the Sisters out at St. Joseph Memorial Hospital, and tomorrow I'll be at Tipton for the annual alumni banquet.

Let me know about exams; sorry I'm not there to intrude this time! As for the "real Exam" of which you spoke, I intend to be there. If Jesus sees us together He will be compelled to give you A+++.

Forever,

Little Virginia of Jesus and of His own

26

Mon Ame,

Wonder if you'll remember just when your birthday is this year. This is early, so you'd have a really good look at the envelope if you try last year's mortification. O if only I might find a card or a few words worthy of what I want to express to you this day and always. I thought of making you a card and, believe me, you nearly got yours back again because it's the most beautiful I've ever seen and I do want to send you the most. But I remain a poor hobo, especially before the riches of your love, and I'm beginning to learn to accept this, to receive and to give and not to calculate which is which because to judge this is not possible to us. So I send to you again what is yours by some miracle I dare not try to understand more and more each day, my love. I know you'll receive it and I know that because you receive it, it grows and grows. It's good that we're given Infinity in which to contain such things.

It will be so beautiful to celebrate the anniversary of your birth on Trinity Sunday. Our own love is a manifestation of this Trinity, and I need but think of you to sing that glorious hymn your face will forever call forth from me, "Holy, Holy, Holy."

When "Julie" returned me to Sam yesterday she saw the envelope containing your letter on my desk. I'm still undecided about such things, but she's been studying handwriting analysis. She looked at your script and told me, "Encourage this guy all you can." Now I find my reply rather interesting, "O, I do." When she left I began to wonder on what grounds I'd made that statement and knew it was merely on my love for you. I considered how your love for me has been so encouraging and knew that He who is Love can somehow fill what is lacking and make return.

Like the clippings! Often it would be easy to tell Jesus He has no right to do this or that, as if any right were not His and were mine. But He does have a way of letting us understand who's Boss. He's infinitely kind to ignore my whimperings.

As for the tatters, that can well describe my patience at Maria Stein. I was treated as one completely retarded. At first I found amusement in it, but 5 days kinda exhausted my sense of humor too. "You want some coffee?" somebody would shout and make all kinds of contortions in case I knew how to lip read. When I replied yes or gave a nod, they weren't quite convinced I'd received the message. Then there was one who tripped over all the chairs in his anxiety to please, to bring the coffeepot to me. He'd point to the coffeepot, to my cup, ask the question again and, after my third affirmative, pour me a cup. How we all want to be understood. It is so vivid to me now. If I make a statement and someone misinterprets it, my first reaction is that I MUST rectify him, no matter how trifling the importance. But unless it is significant, how good it is to just let it fall where trifles should, into forgetfulness. So very few of our words are of import! And then I remember you, our moments together when words are whispers and thoughts are songs and togetherness is all that matters, "forgetting ourselves and each other" in that Love that is beyond all. And I am content with remembering that is but anticipation.

1 hr later…. A lady just left, one who learned of me through a letter her retreat master shared with her. She is lovely, drove all the way from Beach Grove (suburb of Indpls.) Glad she caught me between journeys. Was Claudel the one who said, "There is not one I do not need."? I find myself echoing that phrase so often.

The Juniorate of the Srs. of the Precious Blood was there too. O those hootenunnies are SO refreshing. We arranged that our days would coincide there, as they did last year.

Rumor has it (Father has just told me and one other person), that Fr. Keith will be at St. Joan of Arc's come June. That's but 3 blocks from Sam. The two of us both have quite mixed emotions about it, but we'll see. I can think of nowhere he's NOT needed, and keep begging Jesus to send him to those who need him most. Just might be I'm praying for myself!!!

Just this morning I met Fr. Jim Thornton. He's our new CHAPLAIN. O Quentin, he's wonderful, so kind, just the Father we need. We'll have the Holy Sacrifice daily upon our own little altar. He visits everyone twice a day, brings daily Communion to our Catholic patients, and perhaps will change Sam's gruff countenance a little. O thank God for him.

Tomorrow morning I'm off again to do some buzzing around Elwood. It's been a long time, and my refusals were much too frequent for my vocation, so I'm loading pills and undies and making the rounds. And I am with you.

Forever,

Yours

A greeting card postmarked June 5, 1966 contained a cartoon, a holy card, a typewritten letter and a handwritten letter. The typewritten letter follows:

27

Mon Ame,

Well, it's perhaps not the NEATEST note you'll ever receive but just a token of our togetherness on the anniversary of your birth.

Next morning Loretta's Davie really gave Jesus a welcome when Fr. Keith brought Him. He strung a PINK carpet of scented toilet tissue right from the front door to my corner. It was so dear and I could just about feel Jesus' pleasure. No wonder He made heaven for kids only.

Really gotta scoot. These are wonderfully hectic days. Tomorrow a day of conferences, etc. concerning our migrant problem. Then, I will follow Him…

Forever and ever and ever,

yours

28

The handwritten note is as follows:

"Too tired for company, you seek a solitude you are too tired to fill." Hammarskjold

Trinity Sunday, '66

Mon Ame,

Here we are, more the "you" that I am glad to be than the "me" I take not enough pains to discover.

I've been here at Loretta's since Tuesday, and found the above quote in her book, "Markings" I've be perusing. It says well what this afternoon has been. I BEGGED to be left here alone while the others went to a family gathering. Thanks! The last such opportunity was a day you gave me too. YOU fill my solitude; Jesus is pleased.

The phone is near, but were I to know you were on the line, words would be drowned in my love. And you'd hear me, as I know you always do.

In a little over an hour the family will return. Think I'll hop into my nightie to be ready for the late show, for sleep and waking, and the Blessed Sacrament's coming with no more liturgy than Fr. Keith's pocket and babies' tears and laughter and friends' popping in and the totality of what is offered me in which alone I discover "God with us."

Merry Christmas,

yours

29

June 27, 1966

Hi!

Last week I was at the rectory in Muncie. It is good to be made aware of all the burdens and joys in a house with three priests. It was a nice, restful week, and once again a priest has been thrown into the poor little shelter called my heart. More and more this intimacy with the Priesthood of Jesus Christ. Mother will teach me how to receive it graciously, I know.

This weekend I'll be in Lafayette, then in Fowler to see Grams. And always I am with you on that hilltop where my soul takes a deep breath and is filled with God.

Forever,

She you've helped become Little Virginia of Jesus

30

July 26, 1966

Mon Ame,

Angie must either be growing negligent or indulgent, cause your letter was on top when I returned from Elwood. O well, guess I'll keep her anyway.

July 15^th I told Jesus I was beginning a special month in preparation for your Solemn Vows, and darn He took me seriously again. Ooo did I get a whopper of a bug. It didn't last long but just let [me] know what I get into when I make such rash decisions. Think I'll go make a few more!

So glad I'll get to meet Fr. Daniel. Is he one of those entertaining characters who is so noisy you take a nap during a visit? O I've learned (the wonderful way) to tolerate even those. I too am ready for a hilltop; just to remember and anticipate is refreshing.

Was in Elwood for the past two weeks, the first week at Myrna's. I got there just in time to be whisked to the church basement for Father's going away party. His mom said, "I just knew you'd be here." Glad I was; I didn't know a thing about it. Father announced to the people our work together. He said, "Look what you've done to her! Now, any more volunteers?" Very poor salesman; you should have heard the muttered comments.

One day he took Myrna and me to a deep woods, where we planned to spend the night. Only five minutes after he'd left, we had a majestic thunderstorm. We squealed with delight. Our blankets, clothes, shoes, hamburgers, all the way through the canvas of my body brace to my undershirt were soaked. The temperature dropped 20 degrees and we sat there shuddering, goose bumps and blue lips, when Father returned. O you should have heard the buzzing all over town, all about the stupidity of it, etc. But I'd love to do it again, right now. It was sheer fun.

The second week I was at Velma's. Somehow there's a peace there I can't find elsewhere, and it was harder than usual to leave. Guess she is a hilltop much like you.

Fr. Eugene found his way to Velma's. Guess he was here first. His parents were with him. It was my first meeting with them.

This is a rather quiet week. (Don't let Jesus read that.) Thurs. I have a dental appointment. That's always interesting. Doc is so patient. It's not easy keeping me in his cockeyed chair, and every now and then he counts his fingers.

Forever,

yours

31

August 9, 1966

Mon ame,

Somehow during these your days with Jesus, though I've been quite occupied with correspondence and visitors, there is a peace that flows through my activities and I know again how united we remain.

Recently Pat wrote, "Friendship needs no words - it is solitude delivered from the anguish of loneliness." I am lonely, Quentin, and hunger for solitude with you. Soon! And some tomorrow, forever.

In Love,

yours

32

August 25, 1966

My Love,

It's very, very hard to confine to the inadequacy of words what I want to tell you. And so unnecessary, for I know you know. Quent, thank you for letting me love you.

What could YOU have found upon our hilltop? I'm ashamed to even consider that. But I know that your deep love has strengthened me to follow Him and follow and follow. I need you and it’s the most wonderful need I can imagine. Again, thank you for OUR profession. Let us always lead one another to understand the totality of what we have promised to God. Together we remain, for what can tear mon ame from me?

Forever,

yours

33

Sept. 1, 1966

Beloved,

Whenever I write to a priest I usually begin with, "Bless me, Father." I don't think I'll address that request to you…You ARE a blessing I wouldn't have dreamed of asking.

The other night I watched the Late Show, a beautiful thing called "Mudlark." The title was rather attractive to me, and it was thrilling to find myself in this little urchin who found a picture of a queen and set out against all odds to see her because she looked so motherly. The obstacles were to be mastered only by his unflinching love. He got to her at last. When I pecked my note to Mother that night, I could feel her scolding me for being up so late. It's sweet to be scolded. But next morning she had me up before the aide knocked. She's so indulgent.

Early yesterday morning (Wed.) I went with Dad to Indpls. to spend the day at Our Lady of Fatima Retreat House while he did his work in the state office building. I simply stayed in the chapel, right in the midst of about 100 elementary school principals on their last day of retreat. A little bluebird among God's penguins. It was kinda fun. And when they'd gone I had a wonderful chat with the 3 Sisters at the retreat house. O, Fr. Xavier was there for one of the Sisters' conferences. So nice to see someone from home.

Now tell that Fr. Xavier I DID get my foot-long hot dog. You see, when Dad finished work we went to the state fair grounds, about 6:00 P.M. What you mustn't tell Father is just how I ate the kookie thing. First we had to chop the dog into pups, then the goop began falling out, and finally I decided the bun was cumbersome too, so dug into the puny pieces of meat so well hidden. O and I got cotton Candy too, yakky and lots of fun. It was a real experience being there for the first time at the fair. I wouldn't wish to return, yet it's good to have been smashed into that milieu, to have loved Love there. The pitiful exploitations of the barkers of some of those side shows brought tears to my eyes. What a way to eke out an existence. O I could have sat in one spot for days watching the milling crowd. One fella from a booth hopped over to deposit a stuffed something or other in my lap. He couldn't imagine anyone returning from the fair empty handed, bless him.

Heard from fr. Christian today; I'm so happy. Far as we know, I'm to leave for New York the 9^th. And with you I remain; thank you.

Forever,

yours

34

Mother's Birthday [Sept. 8] '66

Sigh!

This week I've been trying to get things in readiness for the big trip. It's time to leave Sam for a while; things are very, very difficult these days and tolerance down to the bottom, I fear. I've marked each piece of the wheelchair but always wait till the last minute to pack. Joe will meet me in New York. If the trip ended there I'd be glad; he's very special. One of our aides just asked, "Has Joe seen you recently?" Ooo Quent, it does hurt to see the expression in the eyes of a loved one who hasn't seen me for a couple years. Our gang leaves for Canada Saturday. Pray for pilgrims; that's everyone, isn't it?

Fr. Keith's "Pope John Study Center" will be dedicated the 25^th. Hoorah for God!

Will return to Sam the 27^th. Let's go now.

Forever,

yours

35

Oct. 6, 1966

Mon Ame,

It was good to make that pilgrimage. This is the first time I ever went with a particular intention, and I know Mother cannot but respond. Mothers are like that, you know. Sister Teresita, R.G.S., was "my" Sister; she says we made a good team and I agree. We had to continually compromise with the schedule and others thought us a couple of party poopers, but we did all we could and neither of us were concerned about others' opinions anyway.

We had a glorious week discovering in one another the little things that are never small. It's wonderful to at last have met him, his family, his prayer, work, ideas. O and his girls. He's in charge of the cows, and took me out one day to meet "the girls." Really, you should hear him talk to them. He's prematurely gray, but then the poor fella's been praying for me since 1961. The guest master is an M.D., so it was a real pill-popping week, vitamins, iron, pain pills, food supplements. Famous phrase was, "doctor says…."

Everything was arranged for me to board a plane for Indiana upon my return from Mount Saviour, but instead I was happily abducted to a beautiful Nazareth in Bay Shore, L.I. by some friends of Fr. Thomai. So I just got back the 4^th, and then only on a promise to return there for Thanksgiving. It wasn't difficult to reach that agreement; the Nardones, Margie, Bill, and 4 soon to be 5 little ones are so, so wonderful. Even my plane ticket is taken care of already, and I know the King of the Road is Prince of Skies also, and [I] must follow Him.

Doris also informed me about Eleanor. And in the same stack of mail was word that my godchild Irene had died in Elwood. Guess everybody was trying to reach me when she was admitted to the hospital. Her daughter almost insisted that I be notified. It hurts so not to have gone, but Irene understands now and I know she won't forget the poor little one who for a little while was her "mother."

My love, I am leaning hard upon your strength, and only hope that my burden will be but a support to you.

Forever,

yours

36

Oct. 28, 1966

Mon Ame,

Sunday, feast of our King, there will be a little hobo hidden in a chapel corner, in the desert where alone she can prepare a worthy flower for the feastday of a little prince. Thanks for the YOU for whom I can be me, and through some divine prodigality, a gift.

Your favorite saint, I too love her so much. And she revealed to me, on her feastday, something that has lifted a great burden from me. It's but a promise but in it I can rejoice. Somehow I feel you've known it for quite a while. We'll compare notes at Christmas time.

The morning of the 15^th, Teresa sent Fr. Keith to offer the Holy Sacrifice for us here. Then we scooted to Hartford City to see that Pope John Study Center. It's beautiful; Father carried me to every room, even upstairs. O and I found "my" corner there. In the chapel is an old carved Madonna on a corner shelf. There's room beneath her feet for one not-so-tall hobo.

Ruth and I went "people watching" the other day at a huge discount house here in Kokomo. So, so many we cannot know now. But something wonderful happened while we were there. Several tables up front were covered with plastic pumpkins, and someone gave just the right push to begin an avalanche. O the noise and color. For some brief moments we were united there, catching the goofy balls, or merely watching and smiling. I was glad for the sense of community and amused at Our Father's design to bring it about.

The 16^th thru 24^th I was with Msgr. Cyr in Muncie. Fr. Pwamang had come there from Ghana for some medical assistance. He was in great pain, but the last I heard it just might be a vitamin deficiency. That's logical, for he has so little there. We had a beautiful reunion, both of us so changed from our encounter a year and a half ago. Yet the joy of Love surpasses grief [over] our beloved's sufferings. Perhaps for the first time I glimpsed YOUR acceptance of my cross. O I do want to learn this unselfishness.

It was a restful week; I slept and slept, and I'm still mighty lazy. O we had Fr. Marcian [Strange] with us one night. He delivered a talk on Scripture to the Ball State Newman Club. That Vie. Next morning she came to my room later than usual and for an excuse said, "I was fixing breakfast for that STRANGE priest."

Poor Msgr., he's so upset with Vatican II, etc. He thinks the Church is falling apart and that is the sole topic of his conversations. How many more are suffering so?

SR. BLANCHE came to Muncie the 23^rd and stayed overnight. It was wonderful being once more with my Honeybunch.

O Quent, I received a beautiful statue from Fr. Jim Bates. A Mexican woman is kneeling, her face upturned, her hands open and limp before her. Every time I look at her she seems to say something different, yet in the last analysis it's always a prayer of total abandonment.

Doris wrote she'd seen you and you look the same. Good for you, Ugly. O and I heard from fr. Christian too; that's Happiness. Really, I must scoot. A few letters to write, you know. So BOO, and this time without the HOO.

Forever,

yours

37

Virginia's last letter to me was dictated to Ruth Kiefer, and is in Ruth's hand. It was written some time during the Advent season, December, 1966.

Springtime

Mon Ame,

Your rose has a couple drops of dew right now. But you've always been the little prince who loves her, however you find her.

Perhaps I may give Jesus for you the letters I've written, the visits we've anticipated and loved and remembered. But I know the most wonderful gift is still ours and, my soul, because I am, you are with me always. We have gone beyond expressions of gratitude, but as you requested, I am your thanksgiving as you are mine.

You know what tremendous changes have been permitted in my silly service. You know what it means not to peck a note to you just for the sheer joy that you are you and that you make me so much more me. But I am sure that letters or visits could never really build the love we have. It was built in Jesus' heart.

It's Advent. May your season of anticipation be filled with what we always anticipated, that perfect love we shall share in that eternal gazing at one another and repeating, "Holy, Holy, Holy."

It would sound silly to tell mon ame I'll be seeing you. I just want to say that I am glad in you and in Him who stands among us, and whom I love so much more because you have loved me.

So many words, but I know you read but one. Thank you for telling me He is flesh.

Forever,

yours