a marriage tangled up in the rosary

Mar 23, 2022

“so now faith, hope, and love abide, these three;
but the greatest of these is love
.”

1 Corinthians 13:13

Woman holding paper dove in front of baby blue blackground

Celebrating 32 years of marriage this week is a testimony to faith in God and each other. I love my husband so much and thank God for him every day.

Ever since I was a child, I have gone to bed with a rosary in my hand.

I like to drift into sleep with my hands on those beads, silent prayers offered, and my mind on Jesus and Mary. The repetitive prayer soothes my tired soul while I offer up all the moments of my day to these Holy Pillars of my life.

I pray for protection over my husband and children and anyone who I am aware of that is suffering. I rarely finish these prayers as I drift into sleep, but my mom always told me that the angels would finish what has supernaturally been started. This holy habit is my comfort and usually enables me to sleep like a rock.

One morning many years ago, I was making the bed and found my rosary on my husband’s side of the mattress. I chuckled to myself as I thought, “how unfortunate that he rolled around last night with a metal crucifix sticking into his back.

Poor guy—always tangled up in my rosary.

Well, honestly, for the last 32 years, this amazing man has been tangled up in my rosary in so many ways. And, he has accepted most of it with a smile. It’s not easy to be married to a rosary wielding Super Catholic. (You know who you are!)

But, we have found our way—most certainly because of that rosary. To lighten the burden, I did switch to a glow-in-the-dark white plastic version that is less harmful when lost in the bed and slept upon. You are welcome, Mike.

But, no matter what the material of the beads, the prayers are quite powerful, beckoning the Blessed Mother and her Holy Angels to my bedside and to those whom I love, showering us with the peace of God’s love that only He can give. When God is permitted to fill a mother’s heart, then a mother can fill a child’s heart.*
And, most certainly a husband’s heart.

He now sleeps with his own rosary.

We now pray before bed. He is becoming a Super Catholic. I’ve prayed for this for years. Our suffering is shared now. His strength is my strength. His poverty is my poverty. What we share now is totally supernatural—beyond reason. It is only because we have suffered through so many things in our married life that we have arrived here.

We never ever thought of parting. We never ever thought we would be stuck in suffering. We just clung to each other, praying our way out of all that was difficult and still do.

We realize the gift of the Cross of Marriage.

We are now realizing some lofty dreams after all these years together, but we are also willing to die for each other. Yes, die. Die to ourselves for the benefit of the other. It is the answer, but this can only be learned over time while praying and suffering together. (And, sometimes not suffering very well—LOL. Imagine our younger years with lots of kids, and we are screaming at each other with an occasional slipper thrown at his head.)

Say the Rosary. No matter what.

So, throughout the years, my rosary rolled onto the side of his bed probably many times, and right into his heart. Now we are tangled up in both rosaries. Double the prayer, double the fun, and half the suffering. No more screaming. Slippers solidly locked onto my feet.

My friends, don’t ever stop praying for your husbands and children. The Lord is working his miracles through you even if you can’t see him. He is there. He is there.

 

*The Visions of the Children by Jan Connell, p164.

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