I can’t agree more with Randy Hain! Too many Christians I know run around with their faces all puckered up, making clear when they have been offended or are judging those less “Christian” than themselves. And fear, oh the fear! Even when their fear is logically unfounded.
This makes me heart hurt. My life is by no means perfect. I’ll spare the details. My choice is to wallow in the problems (often things I can’t change) or embrace the JOY that comes with knowing how very much I am LOVED by the Creator. By Christ. Like Mary and Jesus’ disciples, I can be patient during the long, scary night knowing that at dawn Jesus is alive!
Ouch. My instagram is part what I like to call my Art Journal. I create pieces with cool pictures and beautiful fonts because it gives me pleasure. I love working with color and graphics and apps. Interesting to hear how others see this.
Rosary beads are more than just a string of counters for me. I love to feel the weight of them in my hands. I love the cold smoothness of each bead, the gentle acknowledgement of a decade done when I feel a larger or differently shaped bead. The detail of the cross and the texture of the centerpiece.
I also love to pray the first rosary on every one I make. And even more, I love to pray with a rosary that has been prayed by someone else. The more someone elses the better. It’s like a line of prayer warriors standing before Jesus, praising him and honoring His Mother, who has prayed with each of us. HISTORY. Is there anything better?
Some day, when money isn’t an issue I’m going to buy a vintage rosary. The older the better. I’ve even considered collecting them. Actually, I collect them now, I just can’t pay much for them so mine are all newly made by me or by someone else!
I decided to go browsing on Etsy. (Some people have Pinterest, I have Etsy. My own personal time suck vortex.) Click on the pictures to take you to the shops selling these!
I think I’ve found my kindred spirit…
The Wrap-Around-a-Rosary was created to fill two specific needs. If women today are going to maintain a devotion to the rosary they need something accessible, not tucked in the glove box or shoved in the bottom of an overcrowded purse. Also, in an age of mass-produced trinkets, women need reasonably priced but still beautiful devotional pieces.
You won’t find the one in the picture in the shop. It’s on it’s way to ME!
I wish I had started praying the rosary when my kids were still babies.
Granted, I didn’t start praying the rosary until about 5 or 6 years ago. I wasn’t Catholic and I didn’t pray it regularly at all in the beginning. When I finally gathered the courage to admit that my heart had been Catholic for a long time and actually start RCIA, I was praying it a couple of times a week. Then, six months after that our family wound up in the middle of a storm with hurricane strength. There was nothing I could do to fix things… except pray. So on a rather typical, mundane day, I spent the afternoon praying for my babies (who were 17, 21, and 23), including the rosary. During that afternoon, I was convicted to pray the rosary daily for them.
For the past eighteen months I have prayed the rosary every day. It was a struggle in the beginning, especially as I stumbled over the longer prayers. Now I can’t remember what it was like before it became part of me. It is the source of my peace. My quiet. My selah. (And actually the inspiration for my blog and Etsy shop name!)
Okay. REALITY CHECK. Would I have actually prayed the rosary when I was a scatter-brained stay-at-home-mom homeschool my three wildlings?
I’d guess not. Unless someone sent me a copy of this article.
We can’t escape being injured or injuring others, but we can allow God to bring mercy to birth in us.
September 1992, the day after Labor Day. My babies were 8 months and 2 1/2 years old. We lived more than 2000 miles from our family and T was on sea duty. And I had major surgery to remove my thyroid that had grown to historic proportions and was crushing my windpipe.
There were problems at the very beginning, things I shouldn’t have remembered due to the anesthesia but… redhead. The recovery room was a nightmare. Pain. Fear. Isolation. Wanting to sleep so I could forget all those things, but the inflatables on my legs woke me up every 10 minutes or so. Then it would start again. Pain. Fear. And so on.
And then I remembered and UNDERSTOOD.
The Holy Spirit intercedes for us with groaning too deep for words.
My pain, too deep for words. My fear, too deep for words. My isolation, too deep for words. And suddenly I just knew. And the paralyzing fear turned into comfort. I wasn’t alone. The pain was only for the moment.
“Likewise the Spirit helps us in our weakness; for we do not know how to pray as we ought, but that very Spirit intercedes for us with groaning too deep for words.”Romans 8:26