2003-11-11 - 12:31 a.m.
Before I clear away my bread and cheese and pile into bed, I want to remember the coming season.
Winter, when seeds lie dormant under piles of snow, layers of ice, and mild soil; when a hush lies over the forest floor and animals leave only trace of a footprint, but never a sound; when time creeps forever during the cold months and we forget the world could ever be warm; when in the dark we forget the light of Spring awaiting; when we rest to recuperate from the harvest and prepare for the weeding of our gardens; when we wait.
Winter is upon a number of the people I know. Beside steaming beverages I pray for you. I am learning a great deal about prayer and my nature, and have learned of my impatience. But, it is Winter. The seeds and prayers I sow for myself, as much as for any one, have many bitter cold months to sleep. Time must pass for the virtues and grace I seek to bear even the most delicate, tiny, deformed fruit. I am glad that Winter, herself, is here as a physical reminder of the state of my soul, and yours, and perhaps yours too.
I have been so afraid lately of deceiving myself in anyway to allow the Evil One to interfere with my toddler’s relationship with Our Lord. I have been afraid, too, of being so afraid that I would doubt the genuine. While I have derived some benefit from my reading the writings of Catholics, I am too unlearned to read them safely, and found that because of that influence, at a time that I need comfort, I refused to ask Our Great Comforter. When I told ---- of my desire to go home, for all that home stood for, but not for home itself, she explained me to myself: “Caitlin, you need comfort.” Then I recognized what an agonized fool I have been this whole week. You can guess what I’ll be crying for tonight.
