The second part is a journal recording the thoughts of Rochester, previously featured in Compassion for all Creatures. His simple, loving observations reveal the heart of an angel. The strongest message is: "If a creature of God could speak to you in words that you could understand as if it were a human speaking, could you then ever eat a creature again?"
"Once again the delightful and insightful Jan Kolb has provided all of us who truly love animals with another warm and wonderful book about how we may enter into deeper communication with our beloved pets. Journal of Love is destined to become a classic in the field of transpecies communication." Brad Steiger and Sherry Hansen Steiger, authors of Animal Miracles
Table of Contents
A Word of Preparation by Robert A. Kolb, Jr.
1 The Visit
2 Earth Angels - The Beginning of It All
3 Sensing There Was More
5 Because of Rochester's Inspiration
6 Pondering and Waiting
8 Whispered Notes
9 Talking with Nature
10 The Man to Whom Plants Revealed Their Secrets
11 The Man Who Talked Telepathically to Plants
12 Angel Letters
13 Wonder of Wonders
14 Kinship with All Life
15 The Spiritual Ingredients for Spiritual Communication
16 The Moment Has Arrived
Journal of Love by Rochester HW. Kolb
The warm morning in late July began as most mornings. Driving into the church parking lot at approximaately 7:55 am, I slid the red Mustang into a space, walked hurriedly from the lot and down the short half block of sidewalk, ran up the church steps and into the vestibule in time for 8:00 am Mass. I blessed myself with Holy water from the font outside the right door and entered the sanctuary. Kneeling down to pray in the last pew, I was again in my own little sacred spot. Mass began. Sad within and filled with concerns, I placed my intentions in His Sacred Heart as always and lifted them even higher at the moments of the Elevation of Host and Chalice. It was time to go forward for Communion. I waited until all those near me had moved into the center aisle, and then coming from my pew I slowly approached the group assembled. No one remained in the back of the church but myself. I took my time in joining the end of the line for it moved slowly and I was still praying within.
We had all received the Eucharist. I walked quickly now down the right aisle and was about to slip into my place when I was quietly struck by a dark image at the other end of my pew. The church was dim and in that instant I saw only brown and more brown and much hair. Something seemed to clutch my heart for one second. I took my eyes from what I was not certain I had seen and closed them and knelt and prayed. I was afraid to open my eyes and look to the left and so remained still for as long as possible.
Standing as Mass ended, I dared to steal a glance and turned my head slowly. In that moment we looked directly at each other! My heart pounded! We both then looked exactly to the front. As I knelt, made the sign of the cross, and moved from my place, I furtively looked back at the figure in the pew. He sat still as a statue with head slightly back as if his eyes were gazing at the large crucifix in the front of the church or at the altar. Perhaps, however, his eyes were closed in prayer. I could not tell. Never had I seen such a forlorn human being in the moments I had to observe. His long dark brown hair was mussed and uncombed, and he had a full beard. His clothes were unperceivable, dark brown but no defining lines of shirt or trousers, only a mass of brown.
My close friend Rose-Beth joined me as she came across the back of the church from the last pew on the left of the sanctuary where she had been sitting. Concern showed on her face as she, too, saw the stranger. I watched as all the daily communicants who had been in other pews filed down the center aisle. The man did not move, and all who passed him by seemed to almost lower their heads as they stole hurried glances with only the movement of their eyes. No one stopped or spoke with him. Nor had I.
Though my friend Rose-Beth and I exchanged words concerning his possible state of homelessness, in my heart there was an impression that this was not an ordinary homeless man. Time would prove to me this impression came from the Holy Spirit.
We left the church and I was disturbed that I had so little money in my purse. Having only a little more than one dollar, I felt this almost an insult to offer him in help. Rose-Beth and I joined our other morning Mass friends across the street for coffee as was the custom now for many years. There was brief mention made of this man by Peggy, another friend who joined us minutes later. He had begged food at the Rectory door, and she had kindly attempted to alert the priest about him so he might be fed. I could not get him from my mind as conversation about him was dropped and other subjects were then discussed in our booth. He was surely in all hearts as we prayed silently our "Hail Mary" before eating.
As we all parted, Rose-Beth and our friend Pat and I walked to the church parking lot together and continued our discussion standing in the center of the lot before saying our good-byes. Realization suddenly swept over Pat that the homeless man was very close to us and seated on the grass under a tree that bordered the parking area. We stole quick glimpses, barely seeing him, for he seemed to blend in with the grass and brown trunk of the tree in his earth-colored, ragged clothing. We did see clearly, however, a tiny gray kitten playing at his feet. In only the instant we permitted ourselves to look, all else about the man was vague.
Pat departed and I feebly apologized to Rose-Beth that I had no money to give him and I felt ashamed to walk away. But we did, each to our separate cars. No sooner had I driven out of the lot when conviction struck my soul and tears began to flow. The only important thing at that moment was in some way to help this man. I prayed he would not leave that spot until I returned, and I pulled my car up behind the garages and ran down the walk into our house and kitchen. Because we were returning to New Hampshire hopefully that night, we now had very little food in the house. We had deliberately not shopped, planning to let things dwindle, and go shopping once up North. All I could see when I entered the back door and kitchen were two big bunches of bananas, still mostly green, on the counter top. Knowing bananas were rich in nourishment, I grabbed a plastic bag with openings cut as a handle in the top for easy carrying and stuffed the bananas in the bag, perhaps fourteen. I left one on the counter for Bob. Seeing nothing else of worth that could be eaten without needing can openers or a means of cooking, with a hurried call upstairs to Bob that I was going out again, I raced out the door to the car and drove back to the church.
Driving into the lot, I looked at once to see if he was still on the grass. He was. He was lying on his back holding his tiny kitten above his face, cuddling and loving the sweet little creature. It seemed to be a picture from a book, and I wondered what book was crossing my mind. It later came to me it was like a painting by the artists Frances and Richard Hook who depicted Christ so vividly in their framed art, and that also filled books of Bible stories. A manly Christ romping with children or cupping a tiny face between His strong hands with such love on His face, or sitting on the ground with little ones about Him as He told them stories. This was the man I saw now, but he had not seen me drive by nor park the car.
My heart pounding, yet without hesitation, I softly walked up to his place of rest. He sat up and looked at me gently, showing no sign that I may have interfered. As in church in the pew together, we stared into each others eyes. I could not look away this time until He had released me, and He did by looking down now at His tiny cat. My heart gripped still by His gaze, I could think of nothing to say and stood awkwardly with the plactic bag filled with bananas.
Finally able to speak, I hesitantly uttered words of nonense. "I thought you might like these bananas. I have nothing else I can give you. I am so sorry."
I offered Him the bag and He looked within slowly and raised His head and His eyes. From the first instant He looked into my eyes and pierced my soul, "I knew." He released me from His gaze again and sat quietly. We both looked at His dear little kitten now playing near His feet, the kitten that He had hidden in His clothing or bedroll while He had sat silently in church. Not a sound had come from the tiny one there or even now.
Blue Dolphin Publishing, 2000
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