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World at Prayer blog
Reflections of Family and Faith
"The family that prays together stays together." - Venerable Patrick Peyton
The-Rosary-In-Our-Hands | family prayer
Many years ago, when I began trying to pray the Rosary every day (I say trying because there are still days I miss), it began as a tedious chore that I would relegate fifteen of my final minutes of the day to accomplish. Sometimes, I wouldn’t even finish; I’d fall fast asleep first. I had to change my attitude towards the whole thing. It couldn’t be just something I did because a bunch of other Catholics did it and told me I should, too. I decided to modify how and when I prayed the Rosary and started praying in my car on my way to work. It’s a 30-minute drive, and I would use a Rosary app to pray at first, but then I switched to praying aloud by memory. After doing it for a while, I noticed that my driving behavior had changed. I was kinder, more likely to let the guy with his blinker on into my lane, less likely to tailgate the guy who just cut me off. It was having unseen effects already! I started to realize that the Rosary is more than just a rote prayer but a tool to use daily!
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The-Rosary-In-Our-Hands | family prayer
I start every day with a Rosary before I do anything else and ask the Blessed Mother to "right order" my day. She never fails in this task. I started this as a young adult by invitation. At 32 years of age, I had it all. Daily prayer was not part of my routine, let alone the Rosary. I had a flourishing career and had just married the love of my life and moved to his hometown in Massachusetts. Our newlywed world quickly turned upside down. My sweet 21-year-old nephew Joe died tragically in a car accident. My father was given a terminal diagnosis and entered hospice six months later — 900 miles away in Michigan. I volunteered at our parish for a program they were launching for teens. I had never done youth ministry before but wanted to honor my nephew's memory somehow. He was such a beautiful soul.
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The-Rosary-In-Our-Hands | family prayer
It is a moment that is seared in my mind forever. I rush into my father’s room in the Intensive Care Unit of a hospital in the town in which I was born. As I approach, I see my father lying, motionless, in front of me. The nurse tells me he is the sickest patient in the ICU. My strong, resilient Daddy. Powerless. Weak. Immobile. It wasn’t that long ago that I'd phoned him to reveal a personal victory I had achieved. I was brimming with excitement and couldn’t wait to share the news. He listened, but then quite abruptly handed the receiver over to my mother. I was caught a little by surprise, but I figured he might have been in a hurry. He often seemed to be in a hurry. But not on that day in the ICU. His hurrying days were over. I tried speaking with him, but his eyes were closed and he did not appear to grasp what I was saying.
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The-Rosary-In-Our-Hands | family prayer
Growing up in Latin America, where there is a huge cultural devotion to Mary, you’d think that I had a devotion to the Mother of God. But I didn’t. It seemed a little superstitious to me and didn’t make much sense. I thought, "Why should I pray to Mary when I can just go straight to Jesus?" And when it came to the Rosary, I never really had a connection to it. Plus, I found it very hard to meditate on a Mystery of the life of Christ while at the same time focusing on the words of the prayers and adding an intention for someone or something on top of that. Too much! Then, about 10 years ago, I came across a beautiful story that forever changed my understanding of the Rosary.
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The-Rosary-In-Our-Hands | family prayer
“What about naming him John?” My husband had privately asked me this once or twice before, and I had vetoed it both times. Over the course of nine months, we debated and battled and strived and searched to find a name for our son and continued to come up empty. His name was a big, fat mystery. Might as well name him Question Mark. And now, in the throes of a 20-hour labor with this unnamed, transverse baby, I was feeling even less inclined to cooperate. “John sounds like an old man’s name,” I said, wincing through another contraction. “What about Anthony? Or Nicholas?” My husband didn’t have time to answer. The baby’s heart rate plummeted on the monitors, setting off a cacophony of alarms. Nurses rushed into my room, flipped my bloated body around, and pumped me with fluids to help soothe the baby and get his heart beating properly again. I knew the drill. We’d been doing this little song and dance every 2 to 3 minutes for half a day. My husband walked to the whiteboard that was hanging on the wall and wrote down two names. Nicholas Anthony Those were pretty solid names. Maybe they could even go together. Nicholas Anthony or Anthony Nicholas. Yeah, that sounded okay.
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The-Rosary-In-Our-Hands | family prayer
Louise stood at the foot of their staircase, not knowing how to put one foot in front of the other. She had only moments ago sent her husband out the door with his lunchbox and a kiss on that regular Monday morning. Now she had to make it to the top of those stairs to tell their six children that their dad would never come home. A heart attack ended his 42-year-old life and with that catastrophic news, her life as she knew it. Our Lady Gave Her the Courage My beautiful Nana always professed it was Our Lady herself who carried her up that staircase and gave her the courage to deliver that unspeakable news. And it was Our Lady, through the power of the Rosary, who supported her every day for the rest of her 48 years as a widow and single mother.
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