The saints have long been a special love of mine. It’s just SO COOL to have a group of heroes and mentors and real-life people who are already in heaven. They weren’t perfect, either. They were a colorful, often crusty bunch.

As I’ve been reflecting on the importance of praying for others, I realized that I’m not tapping into this heavenly crew nearly enough.

I’ll send a shout-out to a favorite patron here or there, but am I doing it with any regularity? Nope.

In the last few weeks, I’ve composed a personalized litany. I looked up all the former patron saints I’ve had from previous years and included my patron saint, my children’s patrons, and saints who have become special to me over the years. Because I have a special devotion to about 100 different titles of Mary, I alternated the saints with titles of Mary.

After each name, I pray, “pray for us,” thinking of all the intentions and family members and close friends and perfect strangers who so need divine intervention and the graces of God.

The final litany has become one of my favorite parts of my morning prayer time. I generally pray it before I pray for my list of intentions, so it feels like I’m tapping into a whole group of pray-ers. As I drink my coffee and invoke my heavenly friends, I really feel the reality of the Communion of Saints.

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Nothing has pushed me to the edge like motherhood. I’m glad I was ignorant of the amount of work and stress involved in this adventure, or I might have declined my handsome prince’s offer of marriage and run straight to the convent. (Though, that said, I’m pretty sure it’s not easier there. In fact, it’s probably harder in a much different way.)

But here I am, married with three kids, completely to the shock of that small part of me who remains a rebellious teenager. I had embraced, rather completely, the notion that a liberated woman didn’t need to concern herself with things like dishes and laundry and cooking, but that was before the squalor beneath my feet and the grumbling of my stomach forced me to rethink my priorities.

I didn’t become different overnight. It might not have really happened until Kid Number Two made her appearance and shook  my tenuous grip on reality more than my balancing act would allow. Or maybe it was the brush with mortality that came from losing a few close family members and some health scares thrown in on top.

Whatever it was, I began to become better at embracing—however imperfectly—my role as “home maker.” And in doing that, I began to see that there was one thing I could not do without: prayer.

If I believe the things my spiritual director and confessor tells me, then God loves me. In fact, he has only good in mind for me. If I believe the reality before my eyes, then the floor needs scrubbed, the toilet is a mess, and there is anything but order in my domestic castle.

These two things seem unrelated, but it seemed to me, in my brush with feeling theological lately, that they could not be. They HAD to be related somehow.

What does God have to do with my poor housekeeping?

Well, not much, if I don’t invite him in. It’s hard to have a conversation with a friend who’s never available, isn’t it?

In some seasons of my life, getting up early and beginning my day with intense prayer is possible and fruitful. It prepares me for the battle—even if all I’m fighting are little people’s backsides and my own chafing pride.

In this season I’m in now, though, I find that I need to pray all the time. I’ve tried to make a habit of saying a Hail Mary when I’m washing my hands or going up and down the stairs. If I’m in the car without any conversation, I try to whisper a Hail Mary or even an Our Father. While the computer boots up or the information downloads, I might pray a Hail Mary.

And there’s the secret: it’s not when I pray, it’s that I do pray. Prayer has to be a habit, something I turn to without even thinking. Just as I dry my hands when I’m done or take my car keys inside with me, I need to pray as a habit, all the time.

Praying without ceasing seemed impossible when I first heard about it. That was before I found myself stranded between a baby and a deadline, cornered by a family obligation and a sick kid, humbled by the generosity of others and my own limitations.

Prayer can be as much a habit as anything else, and once God is in the small moments of my day, I find it’s not so mundane. There’s grace flowing all around me, but when I’m so focused on myself, I don’t even notice it.

The other day, I was running up my mother-in-law’s basement stairs on an errand of some sort, and I caught myself praying a Hail Mary. And I’m pretty sure that God was glad to be along with me as I did my work, whatever it was at the moment.

This “Finding Faith in Everyday Life” column originally appeared in The Catholic Times. 

A couple of years ago, I was struck over the head with a thought that wouldn’t go away: I’m supposed to pray for other people.

It felt so…well, so inconsequential. I want to be a Woman of Action, a Person Who Brings Good Change, a Warrior and Adventurer.

And praying? Just praying? Really, God?

So I did it, but I sort of held out for the Big Gig, the one where I would need a glowing sword and a pithy speech.

(I should know by now that there usually aren’t fireworks in my faith life, but I keep hoping. And I’m a slow learner.)

Now, many years later, I am pretty comfortable with this role of praying for others.

And I’ve noticed something…whether or not it’s helping other people, this praying for others has (and continues to) change me.

Has it made me more patient? Am I more willing to look into the crevices of life’s subtleties and see meaning there? Do I recognize God at work more than I did before?

Is it that I get beyond myself and my desires? Could it be the intertwining that happens when I take others’ concerns and needs to God? Might it be a letting go that I can’t help but do?

I’m not sure I can recognize the changes fully, but I know, even when I look back at the archives for this blog, that they exist.

The other day, my seven-year-old, who’s turning into quite a little reader, looked over my shoulder and started reading out names. “What are you doing, Mom?”

“I’m praying.”

“Why?” and then, before I could answer, “Do you pray for me?”

Yes, I do, and I told her so. I was praying for her long before I was scared we’d lose her, and I continue. Some of the names on my list represent wounds in my heart, while others are hopes and dreams wrapped up in another’s name.

That list is intimate, I realized, as I felt her gaze and her curiosity. And maybe that is what leads to the change: when you pray for someone else, you can’t help but let go of some of the worst parts of yourself.

And maybe that change is what the world needs.

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— 1 —

I have a special intention for the Christmas Novena, which begins today. Will you join in? Pray More Novenas has a handy site and will even send you emails, if that helps you remember to pray.

— 2 —

Now that I’ve been Catholic for ten years (ten years! ten years?), I find myself recognizing things, and it’s a great delight. I talk more about it, and tie it into Chesterton and the Blessed Mother, during my Mary Minute with Chesterton on the latest episode of Uncommon Sense.

— 3 —

This week, I finished Fatima for Today, by Fr. Andrew Apostoli. I had done quite a bit of research about Our Lady of Fatima previously for various writing I’ve done, but I hadn’t ever read a full-length book about her. This book made me want to read more. It also made me feel a personal call to Our Lady’s requests at Fatima: it made them real to me in a way that reading about the apparitions before hadn’t. Highly recommended!

— 4 —

In the “playing on Youtube for hours at a time” category, my husband introduced me to some commercials that made me go into Marketing Mode.

First, I found everything by this company.

Second, I watched a few of them over and over and over, laughing hysterically.

Third, I went to the company website and spent at least an hour (maybe more like two) tooling around.

— 5 —

Are you wondering what the company is? Duluth Trading.

I’ve seen their ads on the hunting programming my husband and his stepdad watch in my father-in-law’s basement, but it wasn’t until I spent all that time on Youtube, wiping tears from my eyes as I laughed and roared, that I really started investigating them.

Says my husband, who rarely laughs out loud at anything on TV but who starts positively giggling when I reference this or this in any fashion, the company got its start by inventing the little tool-thingy that contractors use in five gallon buckets. (More company lore, with pictures, here.)

Now, from what I can tell, they specialize in making high-quality and ingenious clothing. For example, their Longtail Ts have an extra three inches, so that when you bend over, there’s shirt to spare. And, get this, they make them for women, too! In pretty styles! (Or maybe I just need a new belt? I did order a pretty cool-looking belt from them, though I haven’t gotten it yet.)

— 6 —

I’m not getting anything from Duluth for posting all this about them. I’m just so stinkin’ amused and maybe impressed that I can’t help but go on and on and on.

So, here three of my favorites, though they require a two-fold warning. First, DO NOT drink while you watch these. Your computer may not appreciate the shower that may result if you have the same laughing response that I did. Second, you might want to watch them first before you let your young children watch them.

This is the video that got our evening of Duluth entertainment started:

This audio (though it’s a video, the image doesn’t change) is something I may end up memorizing from listening to it so often. It’s like that speech Chevy Chase gives in Christmas vacation (which I once found and printed and hung in my office, back in the days of working in marketing–and yes, there’s a language warning with that link).

And finally, here’s another radio ad promoting their Longtail Ts:

— 7 —

And, if you missed it, be sure to visit the Advent Wreath Carnival. I’ve had some late entries that I’ve posted at the end. I’ve gotten a lot of good ideas from next year and, even better, inspiration and encouragement to continue my Advent!

Here’s hoping you enjoy the rest of YOUR Advent! Have a great weekend!

Visit Conversion Diary for more Quick Takes!

Part of the Mary Moment Monday series

I have a love-hate relationship with the rosary. In fact, I consider myself Rosary Challenged.

Maybe this falls under guilty confessions, because I have a tremendous love and devotion for Mary. I feel an obligation to get over the hurdles I find in the rosary and keep struggling through it.

I used to think that being Rosary Challenged was a legitimate reason for not praying the rosary. “It’s just not the devotion for me,” I’d think, after another unsuccessful run at trying to pray it regularly. “I’ll try [insert any other devotion] instead.”

Inevitably, after weeks or months or, in one case, years, I would find myself feeling a loud, unmistakable call to pray the rosary.

“But…,” I’d stammer. “I’m NO GOOD at this!”

The call would get pretty annoying, even to the point of people giving me beautiful rosaries as gifts.

“There’s just NO TIME for a rosary!” I’d protest.

Wouldn’t you know, I’d happen to have a reason to rise at a crazy-early time or be up in the wee hours of the silent night? Maybe I’d find myself with a long drive and no radio.

My response most recently has been rather adolescent, I’ll admit.

“FINE! I’ll pray it. BUT YOU CAN’T MAKE ME LIKE IT!”

Oh, don’t get me wrong. The rosary is, and remains, a powerful part of my prayer life. The reassuring path through Jesus’ life and ministry and the insights it holds for my life and my vocation are never-ending.

What follows are rosary tips from one of the Rosary Challenged.

Commit.

Sometimes, you’ll have days where praying the rosary seems trumped by other cares and concerns. Other times, I have days where I just…don’t…cooperate.

I have found, though, that viewing the rosary as Not Optional helps me. It has to be something as non-negotiable as dinner or clean underwear or brushing my teeth for me to take it seriously. It’s a promise I make to myself. And to God.

Hard though it is, I never cease to be blessed by it.

One at a time.

This “one decade at a time” mentality is, in fact, how I got hooked on the rosary. Don’t look at it as 59 prayers. See it as a group of ten Hail Marys. That’s it. Start with the first decade in the set of mysteries you’re praying and get that done. Move to the next mystery. And so forth.

Maybe you’ll pray a decade as you make coffee and breakfast and another in the shower. Or maybe it will be part of your commute to work. Use those times when you would otherwise be twiddling your thumbs and use your fingers to keep track of Hail Marys.

There are times in my life when I have to accept less than ten Hail Marys. Though it may mark me as both a super slacker and heretical, I think it’s better to pray a quality rosary than to get it “done.” One decade, prayed from your heart, means more for you and to God than the whole rosary, prayed as a race. (That said, I don’t know that I’ve ever REALLY prayed a quality rosary.

Change it up.

Feel yourself getting stale? There are audio rosaries (many of them available as free downloads), different kinds of rosaries (the Scriptural Rosary, the Franciscan Crown, for example), sung rosaries, and many books of meditations. Try something different when you feel yourself losing focus or feeling tempted to give it up.

Dedicate your efforts to something special.

Is there someone in your life who needs special prayer? Can you think of someone who could use a miracle? Do you have an intention that really needs some attention? Use the rosary and dedicate your prayer efforts to that intention. Maybe each decade gets dedicated to an intention. I know people who use each bead of their rosary for a person in their life.

There’s no limit to what you can do. I find that giving my rosary a purpose gives me different motivation for praying, motivation that I need to use when rosary praying is especially hard.

Ask your guardian angel to help.

If, as my mother-in-law and others in her generation insist, your guardian angel really does finish your rosary if you don’t or can’t, doesn’t that indicate a vested interest in helping you to pray it in the first place? When I do ask my guardian angel to help me, I’m never disappointed (provided I cooperate with the help he gives me, mind you).

Pray with others.

Whether in person or virtually, this can really help. Come Pray the Rosary (www.ComePraytheRosary.org) allows you to pray from the comfort of your home with people all over the world. You can also call a friend, or commit to praying at a certain time every day, knowing that the other person is also praying.

Involving others in your rosary praying can give you the inclination you might not otherwise have. It can also bless you far beyond what you expect.

Don’t give up.

If today you fail, try again tomorrow, and know there’s grace in the persevering.

This “Finding Faith in Everyday Life” column originally appeared in The Catholic Times.

image source: Trendy Traditions

By Joe Wetterling

There are wonderful spiritual benefits, for ourselves and others, when we pray the rosary. What about intellectual benefits? Can the rosary help us understand our faith better? Can it help us transform by renewing our minds, as St. Paul instructed? Yes!

Broadly, the three traditional sets of mysteries take us through the three phases of salvation history. In the passage from joyful to sorrowful to glorious mysteries, we see an echo of the creation, the fall, and the redemption of man. We were made in joyous communion with God, sorrowfully fell, and are gloriously redeemed against all hope.

These same phases are found in good stories, as well. Drama unfolds as a situation is set, then upset, then reset, often in a surprising way. We naturally tell tales of rise, fall, and redemption – and this shouldn’t surprise us one bit. God is the *author* of creation, the teller of the great story in which we’re all part. When we sub-create in making new life, we help make a child in God’s image. When we sub-create in telling a new story, we author as He authors.

To say that history is “his story” may be lousy etymology, but it’s good theology. Our good stories echo THE great story, and, so, our books tell us the same thing that our beads do.

The rosary is a crib sheet or, if you prefer (since we’d never cheat), a study outline for this most-important story. The joyful mysteries cover nearly all of the first two chapters of Luke’s Gospel. These joyful mysteries are five events from early in Jesus’ life, from the announcement of His birth to His parents’ finding Jesus in the temple. They provide the setting for the story; they are part of the initial “rise”, the situation which must be upset to produce the drama. Pope John Paul II filled in another part of this “first act” by giving us the luminous mysteries.  These five sample from all the gospels, highlighting a few significant and, in some cases, sacramental events from Christ’s public ministry.

While the joyful mysteries run straight from Luke 1:26 to the end of chapter 2, you have to go looking for the luminous mysteries, for example in Luke 3:15-22, John 2:1-12, Mark 1:15, Luke 9:28-36, and Mark 26:26-28. In the sorrowful mysteries, the story takes its downturn. It takes THE downturn, that singular lowest point in human history where Satan – and our sins – killed God for three days.

What can overcome such a horrible event? Christ is DEAD. This should be the end of the story, yet, out of seeming failure, the great story changes – literally in a heartbeat. Christ is risen! And this most miraculous event is only the beginning of the glorious mysteries. He ascends to Heaven and sends His Holy Spirit to guide the Church. Lastly, as a first example of our own great hope, a human, Mary, is assumed body and soul into Heaven to be with God forever. She is the example of all we can become and sits beside the King as our Queen Mother.

It is fitting that the rosary begins and ends with Mary. This is not just God’s story, detached from humanity. This is God’s story for us, God reaching into human history and turning it on its head.

It all begins, as it does for each of us, with a “yes” to God. It all ends, if we die in God’s friendship, with our eternal life, body and soul, in God’s presence.

(There are many good sources for scriptural references in the rosary. I recommend the scriptural rosary audio at Rosary Army.)

image credit: All for Mary

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Joe Wetterling delivers adult catechesis through his blog, Ho Kai Paulos. He also comments on sci-fi/fantasy from a Catholic perspective at The Baptized Imagnation. He is a volunteer moderator and presenter for The Catholic Writers Conference, and a volunteer proofreader for the Project Gutenberg archive.

By Jennifer Fitz

I’m an auxiliary member of the Legion of Mary, which is a serious commitment.  When you join, you promise to pray prescribed prayers every day, which include a daily rosary.  Not something to just jump into.  As I did.  Completely by accident.  At the wrong parish.

Here’s what happened:  I was praying to God for help with my prayer life.  Which stunk.  One day my mother-in-law was watching the kids for me, and I dropped in at her church to spend a few minutes before the Blessed Sacrament for this intention.  When I rose to leave, the groundskeeper stopped me in the aisle, said a few kind words, and asked, “Would you like to join the Legion of Mary?”

No.  Very sorry, but I have four young children, no time for another activity.

“Will you pray for us then?”

Sure.  Be glad too.

“Great.  I’ll go get the forms.”

Forms?

I’d never even heard of the Legion of Mary.  But this lady was fast.  She had my name on those forms in an instant. There’s the x for your signature, here’s a copy of your prayers to say every day, and don’t worry, it’s not a mortal sin if you miss a day, but do keep up with it.

“But I don’t go to this parish,” I told her.

They weren’t picky.

I signed.  And then I had to go home and explain this to my poor husband, a protestant who believed in neither the Blessed Sacrament nor prayers to Mary.  Oops.   Luckily he recognized the swift hand of God in answering my prayers for a better prayer life, and if it made no sense to him personally, who was he to argue with God?

And who am I to argue either?  Here are three things I’ve learned about myself as a result:

I need to get over my intellectual pretensions.  The rosary is for normal people.  You don’t have to be smart or trendy or oh-so-educated to pray the rosary.  Apparently God doesn’t need me to show off how sophisticated I am.

Same prayer.  Every day.  I’m all about the next new thing.  I tried the liturgy of the hours one week, the chaplet of divine mercy the next, some Jesuit meditative thing another time. What I really needed?  To be bored.  Because then my prayer life would be about me and God, not about me and my latest idea.

Just go pray.  I never would have settled into a daily rosary on my own.  I would have waffled, always trying to find the perfect prayer.  Now I can quit agonizing and start praying.

Show up.  Do the work.  It was what I needed, and what I still need.  I do experience answered prayers, moments of enlightenment, feelings of love.  But mysticism is simpler than that: Am I willing to do what God asks of me?  If yes, pick up those beads and get started.

image credit: Trendy Traditions

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Jennifer Fitz is a homeschooling mom, catechist, accountant, and writer. She helps out at the Catholic Writers Guild blog and writes on Catholic topics at Riparians at the Gate.

By Victoria Q. DeBayle

There was one rosary that forever changed the way I pray the Rosary.

At the end of my freshman year of college, our Campus Minister announced that she would be leaving her post to follow a religious vocation.  As a parting gift, a member of the Catholic Student Association suggested that we record a rosary with the Campus Minister’s five favorite mysteries.

Five of us, including my friend D., gathered one afternoon to record the rosary.  As we prayed, I noticed that D. seemed to savor every word of the prayers and give them each a special meaning, especially the Hail Mary.  He said it like this,”…and blessed is the fruit of thy womb, (pause) Jesus.”

This stayed with me.  Whenever I had prayed that part before, “womb” ended up being the most emphasized word in the sentence.  D. said “Jesus” with so much emphasis and joy, as if He were at the center of it all.  And then it occurred to me: He is. 

The Hail Marys we repeat as we pray the rosary are not about Mary.  Mary isn’t about Mary.  Mary is the ultimate example of a human being who focused her life on Christ.  Mary is about Christ, and so is her prayer.  Mary takes us to Him, to Jesus.

I may not be the best at keeping Jesus as the focus of my life at all times, but since that day, it is He who holds all my attention when I pray the rosary.  The fruit of Mary’s womb…JESUS!

image credit: On This Day Designs

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Victoria Q. DeBayle is a practicing lawyer and freelance writer for The Florida Catholic.  She is actively involved in her parish in Florida where she currently serves on the Leadership Team of the parish’s Young Adults Group. 

A Mary Moment Monday post

The rosary’s inevitably on my mind in October. At this point, call it habit.

I love that it’s a yearly–and, right now, a daily–habit. And…I hate that it’s a habit.

There’s something about it being a habit that makes it seem boring, unexciting, planned, rote. Aren’t those the very things I don’t want my prayer to be?

Well, maybe. But maybe not.

Prayer is, first and foremost, conversation with God. As I journey through the rosary, whether I’m distracted or focused, I’m holding Mary’s hand. I may only have the very tips of her fingers, or I may be gripping her arm. Sometimes, I’m carrying an intention that brings me to tears, that has my heart burdened, or that needs special attention. Other times, I’m just going through the motions.

It’s not so different from my conversations with other people in my life, if I’m honest. There are times when I’m on fire, paying attention, and totally worth their time. And then there’s the rest of the time.

I’m not trying to justify my mediocrity, but I do think there’s something comforting that there’s an approachability to God through the rosary. I’m reminded, every day, of the reality of the Gospel and of the accessibility he wants to have. No matter how poorly I pray, I’m trying and I’m showing up.

It’s so tempting to give up, to toss in the towel and say, feeling justified, “I’m no good at this.” It’s so appealing to think of tossing the rosary away and call it a devotion I don’t “get” or “do well praying.”

Yeah, it’s out, my guilty secret: I’m a quitter. That’s the voice my tempter uses for any number of things, and the rosary’s just an ongoing battle. I fail, quite often, in my praying of it.

But maybe my success–if you want to play along and call it that–comes from making it a habit, from clinging to it as the lifeline it is, from turning back, again and again, to the mystery of the mysteries.

image credit: Trendy Traditions

A Mary Moment Monday post

My relationship with Mama Mary has seemed to grow almost accidentally. Maybe I was looking for a mom when I found the Catholic Church. Maybe I was looking for more than just a mom, but I needed a mom to lead me to it.

Today, as my real mom celebrates her birthday, I can’t help but smile that it’s also the original feast of one of my favorite saints, Therese of Lisieux, the Little Flower. (Her feast was moved to October 1 after 1969.)

Therese has been a good friend of mine over the years. We don’t seem to have a lot in common, but I continue to learn a lot from her. As I struggle with her little way–doing small things with great love–I naturally think of the moms in my life.

I don’t think I really appreciated my mom until I had my own kids. It’s cliche to say that, I know, but it’s true.

I didn’t realize how brave she had been until I found myself fighting for my own kids.

I didn’t see how much I must have hurt her until I saw the weak spots in my own emotional armor, imagined my children being like I was (and am).

My mom’s not perfect–and neither am I. In fact, I face a huge hurdle when I think of my Heavenly Mama and how perfect she was–and is.

How in the world do you relate with someone who’s perfect and who raised a perfect kid?

Mama Mary found me. She scraped me up off the floor and held me.

Her intercession has led me to reconciliation–both the sacrament and the experience in my own life. She has led me, again and again, to her Son–in the Eucharist at Mass, in the Blessed Sacrament at Adoration, in the people around me.

Today, on my real mom’s birthday, I want to encourage you to embark on this October with a rosary in your hand. Think of your moms–the one here on earth and the one up in heaven–and say a prayer or ten for them. If you’re as blessed like I am to have extra moms, pray for them as well, whether they’re stepmoms or moms-in-law or special mom-figures.

What better gift than a month of prayers for the important women in our life? I think St. Therese would approve, don’t you?

image credit: ClearlyCatholic.com