Our Lady of the Rosary…a day late

No, Mary is not a day late, I am.

Yesterday was the feast of Our Lady of the Rosary. At our Mass in the morning, Father had us on the edge of our pews relating the story of how the feast came about. Let it simply suffice to say that if your enemy tells you Mary is on their side, think twice about marshalling your armada, even if its twice the size of your enemy. You’ll be sunk and all the Christian slaves you’ve had rowing your boats will be freed.

For 6:20 a.m., I’d say Father did pretty well.

But my reflection for the day was a bit on the more mild side. As I reflected on Mary and the Rosary, I recalled a very touching scene I was blessed to witness when I was about eighteen. I was staying with a family in Nashville, helping with their seven children one summer (before entering the convent, of course.) One night when we sat down to pray the family rosary, one of the five-year-old twins was passing out rosaries to every family member. Marie, the mother, thanked him but said, “I’ll just use Sam’s toes.” At first I had no idea what she meant, but tears of heartfelt emotion welled up as we began to pray and I saw her count the prayers on her little baby’s toes, each one not much bigger than the beads in my hand.

Does Mary pray the Rosary? I like to think she does, but not with just the same mysteries that I use. I like to reflect that she ponders the mysteries in my life, that every moment of my day passes through her hands like the sequence of beads pass though my own. Jesus promised St. Teresa of Jesus that if she takes care of His business, He will take care of hers. If I treasure the mysteries in the life of Mary, I think she treasures those of my life as well, all the joyful, luminous, sorrowful, and glorious events in my life.

When I can’t make sense of what is happening, Mary can. She holds all these things in her Immaculate Heart and will obtain for me all the graces I need. And when my days seem like an unending, monotonous string of the same-old-same-old, she adds life just by her graceful fingering of the “beads” of my days.

She is my mother, she knows I love her dearly, and I know she is not disappointed that I am a day late with this post. Moms always understand…

Published in: on October 8, 2010 at 7:12 pm  Comments (1)  

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One CommentLeave a comment

  1. the Blessed Mother pondering our life…that’s a beautiful thought that never crossed my mind…but now it has =)

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