Praying Out Loud

A Mary Moment Monday post

This morning, in the midst of a crazy spurt of very uncharacteristic cleaning, I started my rosary late. In fact, as I write this, I haven’t yet finished it. That’s very unlike my normal routine, but some extra sleep this morning was not only necessary but possible. Same with the cleaning.

As I prayed the first decade, I realized that in both of my recent rosary resource posts (both here and at Faith & Family Live), I have failed to mention one of my very favorite audio rosaries, The Rosary is a Place and The Rosary is a Luminous Place, by Father Benedict Groeschel.

Jen at Conversion Diary brought them to my attention with her writing about how the Sorrowful Mysteries always made her cry. (I can’t find the link to that post, but here’s her review, if you’re interested.)

I’ve always struggled with the Sorrowful Mysteries. Watching Mel Gibson’s movie The Passion helped give me visuals, but there’s always been something fake-feeling about how I pray the Sorrowful Mysteries, when in fact, they always seem like they should resonate the most. I should be able to think of the suffering I’ve seen and felt and identify, right? For some reason, it doesn’t usually work that way.

In fact, I struggle with the rosary A LOT, Sorrowful Mysteries or not. Maybe that’s one of the blessings of the rosary for me: it’s prayer that is a true spiritual workout.

What I’ve found particularly helpful about these audio rosaries is how they get me praying out loud. It’s all too easy, when I’m praying, to get sidetracked. (It’s hard enough to stay on-task when I’m not praying!) The rosary, especially, seems to have opportunities for me to lose track…not just of what Hail Mary I’m on, but what mystery I’m supposed to be contemplating or even what set of mysteries.

Sometimes, this “distraction” is Spirit-led. Most of the time, though, it’s me. It’s me, thinking of this or that project, wondering about how something will play out, planning for the next three hours.

There seem to be seasons when I’m most prone to this, and I’m in one of them now. I’m not getting up as early as I like (and that’s okay…sleep is good, very good); I have a million things going through my head (which is 1,000 more than usual, thankyouverymuch); and there are many other factors.

This morning, as I prayed along with Fr. Groeschel, I realized that praying out loud is incredibly helpful for keeping me on-track. My kids still interrupt, but they tend to finish out the Hail Mary with me (my five-year-old, in particular, will have an urgent look as she taps me and tries to get me to pray faster). My mind still wanders, but there seem to be better reins guiding it in a straighter line.

There seems to also be a different “power” in the rosary when I pray it out loud, and maybe that’s just because, for me, it’s more real somehow. But maybe there’s more to it than that. When I think about it, praying out loud, in general, does seem to have a different impact. Mass, for example, which is, at its essence, one long prayer, is mostly out loud. And when I gather with other groups to pray, and we pray out loud, I can feel it somehow.

Of course, my tendency is to roll my eyes at myself and call myself a pregnant loon, obviously being humbugged by emotions. But…well…it just struck me this morning that praying out loud seems to work differently and even, a lot of the time, better.

Maybe it’s that by praying out loud, I somehow acknowledge that God is really present, the same way my husband and children and pets are, and that He can hear me and even interact with me. What do you think?

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I have a new series of Rosary Reflections at Catholic Exchange (which has an AWESOME new design — have you seen it?). This week, I’m discussing the Visitation.

I have always seen the Visitation as a very tender series of moments, happening despite dusty feet and arduous travel. I can’t help but think of elderly Elizabeth, so joyous in her pregnancy and yet, undoubtedly, so very uncomfortable, greeting her young cousin with surprise and delight.

They probably didn’t get to see each other very often. It was a dangerous journey and travel wasn’t easy in those days.

The charity and humility that inspired Mary to make the trip give me pause for thought. How often do I pass up the chance to give of myself the way Mary did when she went to Elizabeth?

When do I drop everything to celebrate and help–no matter the cost to my own comfort? Where do I leave my pride so that I can act for someone else? And what kind of attitude do I adopt as I’m attempting this impossible feat?

Read the rest at Catholic Exchange.

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This month, I’m also reflecting on the rosary during my Mary in the Kitchen segment of the Catholic Foodie show. In the latest show, I’m talking the Joyful Mysteries, from my kitchen, of course.