Pray It Again: My Gramma’s Rosary

Rosaries fascinated me as a little girl.  Always on the lookout for ways to attain holiness, holding one, or at least having one tucked away in my purse, seemed like a fast track.

I liked the smooth feel of the beads and the rhythm of the prayers.  I owned a few and tried to coordinate the colors with my church outfit.   Another reminder I was glad to be a girl because the boys’ rosaries seemed to only come in black.

Part of coming of age in the 60’s for me included throwing all vestiges of tradition over my shoulder and finding my own road.  The rosaries went too, as did color coordinating, as well as church for that matter.

Then I fell in love with Jesus.

Still no rosaries… I was learning how to pray in all new ways.

Then prayer beads became popular in the last decade and I both gifted and received sets of these.  Rosary-like, they provided something to hold onto when my prayers were of the urgent variety.  Those strands I could and did use…often.

On one of my mom’s visits, she brought me a present. Very common for her but this time it wasn’t something she picked up in a cute gift shop.

The little bag held a rosary…in the most beautiful shade of periwinkle blue.  It would go with all my outfits!  I was pulling out my polite disclaimers about how I didn’t do rosaries. Then she told me it was her mom’s, my Gramma’s… and that she (my mom) had given it to her one year for her birthday.

Gramma”s Rosary

Suddenly it wasn’t just a rosary, it was the tangible evidence of my Gramma’s prayers, likely for me.  She died during my wandering days.  Only God knows what she prayed but I am not wandering any more.

Her rosary replaced the prayer beads on my nightstand.  I sometimes grab it during the night after a bad dream or in times of desperation. Each pearl holds one of my prayers; not hard to come up with 59 items on my heart if I stay awake that long.

I’m quite endeared to that rosary…and the one that belonged to my husband’s Babi, and the one my friend brought me from France, and the one I found in the purse from the garage sale.

Different generations, different women, different faith expressions.

Same rosary.

And bead by bead my soul is calmed.


9 Responses to “Pray It Again: My Gramma’s Rosary”

  1. 1 lilytemmer March 29, 2012 at 4:37 PM

    Lovely! and it’s your color.

  2. 3 Liz March 29, 2012 at 4:38 PM

    Beautiful story!

  3. 5 Katherine O'Brien March 29, 2012 at 5:24 PM

    So glad to hear that these prayer beads inspire your prayers! My journey with the Rosary has become one of knots. I’ve learned how to make Rosaries and am currently making one with red, white, and blue cord. It’s a gift for my son. I will give it to him when he receives his Eagle Scout award next month.

    May God bless you!

  4. 6 Letitia Suk March 29, 2012 at 8:32 PM

    Thanks, Katherine and congratulations on an almost Eagle scout!

  5. 7 Patty March 30, 2012 at 12:20 PM

    When my father-in-law died, MIke’s family held a Rosary vigil 3 times a day for a week. As I slipped into the ritual, I found myself drawn to repetition in a positive way-of focus, of listening intently to the words, and the atomphere of the entire clan praying together from the oldest to the babies.

  6. 8 Letitia Suk March 30, 2012 at 12:22 PM

    Patty…That is a beautiful picture of inter-generational prayer. Thanks for sharing.

  7. 9 Helen April 2, 2012 at 11:08 PM

    Great post. Beautifully written. Thanks for sharing.

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