She was there when I learned my first prayers, in bed with my mom waiting for Papa to get home, the Sacred Heart of Jesus image in the hallway lit, as we prayed the Angelus and Mommy taught me how to use her Rosary beads.
She was there as I was growing up, praying the nightly family Rosary, kneeling all together in my parents’ bedroom, at times being overcome with distractions and giggling fits. My cousins and I were a bunch of silly teens; I hardly knew her and gave no thought to what role she played in my life.
When we moved to the US, she was there every morning as my mom and I walked the seven blocks to the bus stop for our daily commute to work and school, in the middle of winter, bundled up in scarves and bonnets and boots, our gloved hands fingering the Rosaries in our coat pockets, mine a silver-beaded one, from an aunt who had visited Rome.
She was there when I was heartbroken and lonely, crying my heart out in front of the Blessed Sacrament. She taught me to cling to her Son no matter what life brings.
She was there when I met my future husband, and when I taught him how to pray the Rosary. She was there the day I said yes, the promise sealed by the green crystal beads that I gave him.
She was there through the pangs of childbirth, and during the busy, stress-filled years of young parenthood, when I’d lose the habit of prayer and find it again… through every illness, major decision, and milestone.
She was there when my husband decided we needed to recommit ourselves to nightly family prayer, and she’s been there for every child who learned how to pray and lead the Mysteries in their turn.
She was there when I made my consecration in 2008, and when the first three kids made theirs.
She was there on my husband’s 50th birthday, when I gave him a brand new Rosary with lapis lazuli beads, the work of my hands.
She was there as our oldest children learned to drive, her motherly love around me as I battled with myself to let go and let God. She was there when our oldest son got lost for two hours in the mountains of West Virginia on a camping trip. And she was there when our 24-year-old’s car broke down in the middle of nowhere in North Dakota, keeping our daughter company as she waited several hours for help.
She was there on our boys’ first road trip, smiling down at me when I texted them that I had finished praying my Rosary for them, and they texted back that they had just finished praying all twenty Mysteries, and I breathed a sigh of relief. She quiets the quaking in me and helps me find peace in the midst of this noisy world.
She was there when our youngest child learned to pray his first Our Father, Hail Mary, and Glory Be.
She was there when we took my mom to the hospital recently. She held my mom’s heart and mine in hers, as we sat there late at night, praying together, our lives drawn full circle, the faith passed on from mother to child, and then mother to child again. In blessing and in pain, she keeps our eyes on Him Who gives us our purpose and reason for being.
Through it all, she has shown me what it means to believe, believe in, and trust my Creator. Though my stubbornness and pride know no bounds, she has taken me from fiat to fiat, and with every one I utter, I learn to pattern myself after her obedience and her humility. Who else can teach me these lessons best, if not our Blessed Mother, the very first disciple? Where else do I turn when I need to understand that a life of freedom means a life of surrender? Mama Mary has taught me to praise, to worship, with my life. She has helped me listen to the Holy Spirit, to define my vocation as woman, wife, and mother. I’ve celebrated the joyful, mourned the sorrowful, and learned from the illuminated mysteries of my own life, following in her footsteps, praying that as the Lord was magnified in her soul, He will be magnified in mine.
Mama Mary, ora pro nobis!
O God, whose only begotten Son, by His life, death, and resurrection, has purchased for us the rewards of eternal life. Grant, we beseech Thee, that meditating upon these Mysteries of the Most Holy Rosary of the Blessed Virgin Mary, we may imitate what they contain and obtain what they promise, through Christ our Lord. Amen.
Further reading:
Where Did the Rosary Originate?
33 Days to Becoming a Saint
Ring Around the Rosary
http://rosaryconfraternity.org/the-rosary/how-to-pray-the-rosary/
http://www.vatican.va/special/rosary/documents/litanie-lauretane_en.html
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