A couple weeks ago a friend asked me, "Want to ride out with me to deliver a rosary?" A rosary? What in the world is this about?
The day before, she had called a woman who had been in our community for years and, after she left, became a college professor. She was a real go-getter---a larger than life person in everything she did. She is now in her late 70s and after a series of serious physical ailments has come to the realization that her days of independent living are over. She has round-the-clock care and is on the waiting list for a local nursing facility. When my friend asked if there was anything she could get for her she hesitated and then rather sheepishly replied, "I suppose I'm the only person left who still says the rosary, but could you bring me one--I've lost mine?" So off we went, with two: one red, one blue. She was extremely and humbly grateful. It was a simple, yet beautiful experience to see what this gift meant to this woman--who has everything and could have anything she wanted.
It took me back to the last time I had said the rosary. It was during a 60-minute wait on a plane on an airport tarmac after arriving home from a long, long trip overseas. I was tired and weary and didn't think I could stand sitting in that cramped little seat another minute, let alone endure the now familiar waiting game of "a mechanical difficulty." Then I remembered the blue rosary that spends its life at the bottom of my tote--in its soft blue zippered case. Desperate for calm, lo and behold I found it in the mantra-like prayers and consoling repetition of saying the rosary.
I have a friend who says the rosary has been Catholics' prayer beads long before the New Agers brought forth theirs.
Today the liturgical calendar celebrates this "old-fashioned" devotion.
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