Many years ago, going back to the mid-90's in fact, I was struggling with and juggling so many things. My Dad had died in '89 and my Mom had gotten sick shortly after that. Tom was young and we were running to evening and weekend things like basketball and Boy Scouts. I had a full-time, stressful, job was going to school at night, chauffeuring him around, was a Scout leader and had a significant other. On top of that, I was caring for my gravely ill Mom. The same year that she was sick my best friend also became gravely ill. They passed away within months of each other, in 1994.
Way back then I was not a practicing Christian, let alone Catholic, but I did make it to church every Sunday. I was also heavily into spiritual stuff like psychic readings, tarot, crystals, healing and read everything I could get my hands on from people like Sylvia Brown and John Edward. I also dabbled with the Ouija when I was younger (BIG, BIG mistake). I read the Dead Sea Scrolls, the Gnostic Gospels, the Infancy Gospels and all of the texts from the Nag Hammadi scrolls. I was definitely heading into more of a Gnostic bent than anything else. That is, until my Mom was in her last days with us.
I remember hospice telling us what to look for. People that are dying seem to be walking that fine line between our reality and the next. By the time my Mom was at that point I had already had the experience with two other close relatives but nothing prepared me for what happened with her. Quite a lot of things happened in the house when she was in her final week, but I will only acknowledge one of them that had a direct influence on my spiritual life. I have to first say that when people are dying, (those that are NOT medicated but going through the natural process), they can see and talk to us, but they also kind of disconnect from us and can see and hear things that we can't. They see those that have passed, they can see angels and other entities and they can hear and converse with them as well. Sometimes they are cognizant of both realities, other times they are in one or the other. I know this all sounds strange, but ask any hospice worker and they will tell you some amazing tales of their own. I saw it with my own eyes, as did anyone else that was in the room with her. I will call the periods of when she was not in our reality as "in the zone."
On that one occasion, I walked into the room, she was in the zone. She had a small, clear crystal, one-decade rosary on her bureau top that I had actually bought for her for Christmas one year. I hadn't picked one up in years, but I did pick up that one and started to pray on it. When I was done, I put it back on the bureau and sat with her, waiting for her to come back. When she did, she took my hand and said, "They said you are doing good with that." I asked, with what? She nodded toward the rosary beads and said, "with them." Well, knock my socks off, why don't you, Mom? She went on to tell me that "they" were praying with me. She was fully aware of them doing just that.
After she passed, I took the rosary. I started to pray on it once in a while. I learned how to say it correctly, reciting the mysteries of Jesus and contemplating them while the beads moved through my hands and the prayers through my heart. In 1998 I started going to the Monday night Our Lady of the Miraculous Medal novena at my church. I wasn't actually wearing one at the time but it was a beautiful service with prayers said to Mary, imploring her to protect us and lead us to God the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit. During the novena, there was a short sermon by the priest and then a benediction, where songs were sung in Latin and the Eucharist was exposed for adoration. It is a beautiful service and I soon found that prayers asked for during the novena were being answered. My reciting of the rosary grew from one decade a day to all five. I can tell you, you cannot say a rosary without growing closer to Jesus as you meditate on so many of his experiences ~ the birth, the agony in the garden, the carrying of the cross, the crucifixion. THIS is how Mary brings people to Jesus through her. By 1997, I was not only going to Mass on Sunday, I was listening to the readings and hearing them, I was singing the hymns, I was listening to the homily given by the priest, and I was not only saying the prayers but understanding the meanings. With that, something wonderful happened. The Mass became a time of community and joy and a celebration of Christ with us, instead of a place I had to be on Sundays because that is the way it always was with my family. I am going to make a suggestion here. Put the book down and LISTEN during the readings and the homily. Flipping pages and reading along is distracting. Just listen.
Instead of just having a Bible in the house, I cracked it open and read it from cover to cover. I went to Bible study groups, read the Catechism of the Catholic Church, started to go to the perpetual adoration chapel at a local church and eventually at my own church when it was created. By leaps and bounds, by prayer and contemplation, by opening myself up to my faith and closing myself off to many of the temptations of the world I found Christ Jesus waiting for me.
Now, my days are filled with prayer and my love of the Lord. I say prayers, I share them, I write them and I teach them. In the world's eyes I am not wealthy but in my eyes I am rich and enriched beyond belief. I am so blessed that I picked up a small rosary so many years ago and answered Mary's call to return to her Son. It has been an incredible ride and an amazing journey. Thank you Mother Mary for loving me that much.
Have a beautiful week, despite the weather.
Peace,
Mare
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