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World at Prayer blog
Reflections of Family and Faith
"The family that prays together stays together." - Venerable Patrick Peyton
There is a legend which goes this way. A destitute woman, reeling from the loss of her husband and engulfed in relentless agony, received a tattered pamphlet from her neighbor. The neighbor had stumbled upon it lying on the street and, upon reading it, immediately thought of the sorrowful woman. The pamphlet contained a captivating story of a Man who offered solace to the afflicted. The grief-stricken woman read it and found her entire life transformed by its profound message! Astoundingly, the pamphlet turned out to be a copy of the Gospel of Saint Luke, which brought an overwhelming sense of peace and relief to the woman with its powerful themes of consolation and comfort.
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The-Rosary-In-Our-Hands | family prayer
Today, October 18, is a special day for my family. Two and a half decades ago, my oldest son was born. He came into the world on a night when our city was engulfed in a historic flood, the likes of which hadn’t been seen for over 100 years, and that seemed to set the standard for how his life would roll. He arrived at a time of high drama and adventure, and he never looked back. He’s the reason I developed a devotion to the Rosary. Trusting the Blessed Mother to Protect My Fearless Child When he was four years old, we moved to an old farm out in the country that had a huge, dilapidated red barn on the property. That barn was like a magnet for my son. He would talk about climbing the “ladder to nowhere,” a rickety old ladder barely hanging onto the side of the barn that used to lead up to the second-story loft, long since rotted away. His goal was to jump from the ladder onto a fraying rope hanging from the rafters and swing out over “the bottomless pit” — a hole in the flooring below that opened over old farm equipment, unused since the 1960s. It was the perfect enticement for a fearless young boy, full of adventure ... and a disaster waiting to happen.
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A busload of politicians was driving down a country road near Galway when suddenly a tire blew. The bus ran off the road and crashed into an old farmer's barn. The old farmer got off his tractor and went to investigate the accident. Soon he dug a large hole and buried the entire busload. Several days later, the sheriff came out, saw the crashed bus, but no bodies, and asked the farmer where all the politicians had gone. “Sure, and I buried ‘em.” The sheriff said, “Lordy! Were they all dead?” Said the old farmer, “Well, some said they weren’t, but you know how them crooked politicians lie.”
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The-Rosary-In-Our-Hands | family prayer
Recognizing the place of the Blessed Mother in my life and the importance of the Rosary was a gradual process for me. I was blessed to be raised in a Catholic home, the youngest of seven siblings, and was fortified by the love of my mom and dad (60+ years) as well as an aunt who lived with us while growing up. The Catholic faith and the Mass were always important to my family. I was in rich soil. Mary Had a Special Role in Hearing Our Requests While I do not remember praying the Rosary on a regular basis during those early years, I do recall that we would go to Mary and pray the Rosary together when people in the family needed significant intercession. We trusted that Mary had a special role in hearing our requests and praying for us, presenting our petitions to her Son. One memory of praying together as a family was in early college. My sister-in-law was hemorrhaging after giving birth to my nephew, and we prayed the Rosary as a family, receiving a call shortly afterward that she would be okay (a doctor who was pioneering a way to help women in these situations just happened to be in town for a presentation and was called to help).
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The-Rosary-In-Our-Hands | family prayer
Like many Catholics, I often felt guilty for not praying the Rosary as often as I ought. It was hard to fit in. Having lots of little children in a short time span made sitting down to pray a Rosary seem nearly impossible. Eventually, Catholic Guilt — a blessing, not a curse at all! — caught up with me, so my husband and I instituted a nightly decade with our six wiggly little people. Learning in Their Own Little Ways We each take turns saying the Hail Marys, and the kids manage it surprisingly well. They remember whose turn it is to lead as if it were a winning lottery combination. That does not mean that everyone sits nicely and listens prayerfully. Not even close. They squirm and flop and bother everyone frequently, but they still are praying and learning in their own little ways. Sitting nicely for prayer is a skill and we are working on it. Rome was not built in a day, after all. Neither is the family Rosary.
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A young couple moved into a new neighborhood. One morning, while they were having breakfast, the woman noticed her neighbor hanging laundry outside to dry. “That laundry is not very clean,” she commented. “She doesn’t know how to wash correctly. Perhaps she needs better laundry soap.” Her husband looked on but remained silent. Every time the neighbor hung clothes to dry, the woman repeated her observation about the dirty laundry. One month later, the woman was surprised to see clean clothes on the line and said to her husband, “Look, she has finally learned how to wash her clothes properly. Her husband responded, “I was up early this morning and cleaned our windows! ”
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