I have a few rosaries.
In fact, I could host quite a large rosary group and there would be no need for anyone to BYOR. These are just some of the “downstairs rosaries.” The glass jar has nine rosaries made of plastic beads. To its left is one made of knotted rope in a bag with how-to instructions ready to be given to someone who wants to learn.
Except for the two on the left made from olive wood and the children’s rosaries on the top right, these rosaries are very inexpensive and are the kind given away by various groups. The ones in the middle came in the mail with a request for money. I have to figure out how to donate anonymously. If you buy one Mass card, you end up on 20 mailing lists. I don’t like that.
The only rosary in the picture that I actually bought is the wooden children’s rosary. I used to have two wooden ones, but my kids can manage to break anything if given a chance. The other rosary is made from a really hard plastic and was given to Mary by her Godmother. She likes the way they feel on her gums.
I’ve learned the hard way to keep the nice rosaries out of the reach of little fingers. Kids of all ages are drawn to rosaries. They like the way they click in their hands. They like the pretty colors. They like the texture. Me too.
This one is blessed by the Pope. Therefore, it is too good to be used! It stays in its little box on my dresser, and I look at it and smile. Peter is irresistibly attracted to this rosary and its little box. I will pray its beads someday. I think I’m just waiting for a really important request.
My favorite rosary is this delicate blue one that Bill got in Letnica on this pilgrimage. He sent it to me just before Jenny was born. The first time I prayed it to thank God for a safe delivery and a healthy baby. It was used frequently in the next few months as I prayed for strength, prayed for my milk supply, prayed for my sanity, and prayed for a speedy return for my husband. This rosary has seen many, many tears.
The beads are tiny and pointy and the spacing between the decades is difficult to discern by touch. At first I thought this was a disadvantage, but as an exhausted mother of little children who almost always falls asleep while praying, I came to appreciate that to pray this rosary I needed to pay attention. Instead of the soothing feel of sanded wood, my sensitive skin must gently hold each sharp bead and deliberately move to the next to avoid prickles. I need to look at the rosary to know when I’ve finished the decade.
Should I live to be an old woman with clouded eyes and arthritic hands, this rosary probably won’t be easy to pray, but it will nonetheless be my likely first choice. What will it matter if an old woman has to go around two or three times because she can’t tell when it’s time to stop? That long dead husband is probably still in purgatory and grateful for all those extra Hail Marys.
Surely none of my offspring would be so foolish as to bury me with my wedding or engagement rings. I hope that someone else can wear them and have even a fraction of the joy my marriage has given me. Just bury me in my newly repaired pearl necklace (thank you Pearl Girl) and holding this rosary. I sure hope I have people praying the rosary for me.