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World at Prayer blog
Reflections of Family and Faith
"The family that prays together stays together." - Venerable Patrick Peyton
Catholic Family Fun | family prayer | pray the rosary
Getting kids to sit down and recite a whole Rosary is not always met with cheers and delight, as much as I wish that were the case. If I am telling the truth, I am sometimes met with groans and eye rolls alike. But when you lay out a donut Rosary, suddenly your kids are rallying to lead more prayers than their siblings. There’s nothing complex about the Donut Rosary. The cross can be a construction paper cutout, or you can make a cross with donut holes. The Our Father and Glory Be prayers should be regular-sized donuts — whoever leads the longer prayers and Scripture verse for the Mystery gets a “big donut.” The Hail Marys should be donut holes — make a decade one flavor or mix them up. After you say your prayer or prayers, you get to eat the donut(s). You will be amazed at the complaints about how unfair it was that Sister 1 got to lead more prayers than Sister 2 —haha!
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Catholic | family prayer | prayer | praying
It’s something you are never too young for, yet never too old. You could spend all day doing this, yet a few minutes works just as well. You can do this walking or sitting, singing or talking, when you are angry or sad, happy or grateful. You will never, as long as you live, run out of reasons to do this nor will you ever regret the time you dedicated to it. You can be an expert or a novice with the same result. It can be incredibly challenging and entirely easy all at the same time. You can do it in any language and you will always be understood. It is never — and I mean never — a poor use of time. It is appropriate for any and all situations, under any and all circumstances.
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The-Rosary-In-Our-Hands | family prayer
As an adult convert, one of the most thrilling and surprising aspects of Catholicism is the enjoyment I experience from practicing and learning about my faith. It’s like an infinite spiritual playground that continues to evolve and unfold, which leads to deeper and more profound personal experiences. The Rosary has been one of those growing spiritual journeys for me (and maybe for you, too). Until a few years ago, my perception of the Rosary was that praying it was what “good Catholics” did. So I did, too; I prayed the Rosary with a group, but rarely on my own. Just as Mary draws us closer to herself and her Son, she has worked her motherly “magic” on me, too! I’ve been praying it nearly every day over the last six months, which is a miracle for this girl who has a tendency to think, “I don’t have enough time.”
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The-Rosary-In-Our-Hands | family prayer
My dad was the first person to teach me to pray. As a little girl, I remember him kneeling next to my bedside, showing me the Sign of the Cross, and reciting our prayers. As a child, I didn’t see him much; he worked a lot to provide for our family. In my early adulthood, we didn’t always get along due to his vocal opinions. I came to see him as this loud, rigid man. I loved him but didn’t always like him. Both headstrong and controlling, there were power clashes between us, yet his Catholic faith was strong and never shaken.
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The-Rosary-In-Our-Hands | family prayer
During my freshman year of college, I was thinking about joining a particular household. At the Franciscan University of Steubenville, “households” are like Catholic fraternities and sororities. One of the regular commitments of this household was a Sunday evening Rosary. Let me paint the picture for you. Twenty college-age guys sitting comfortably on couches and chairs in a nice warm room praying a very repetitive devotion late at night. Someone was bound to fall asleep. On this occasion, someone did. Somewhere around the third Glorious Mystery, a good friend of mine started to nod and snap back. Nod and snap back. And then, after a valiant struggle, just nod. Everyone else in the room seemed to silently acknowledge that our friend was, shall we say, no longer with us.
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The-Rosary-In-Our-Hands | family prayer
In January 1991, my cousin was sitting in a tank in a hot desert, awaiting orders to go into Kuwait. The newspapers were filled with troubling stories, and the world felt like a sea of uncertainty. Every Saturday for months, my family — aunts, uncles, and cousins included — gathered at my grandparents’ house to pray the Rosary for protection over my cousin and the success of the mission.
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