Prayer Beads And A Rosary...

My Prayer Beads.

When I was a little girl I always tried to wear my rosary as a necklace.  Each time I did it my great grandmother would stop me.  I would insist it was a necklace and she would say, "No.  It is for prayer."  Then she would take it off my neck and put it in my hand.  What the heck, huh?  It was a chain of beautiful beads and a cross.  It was a loop.  It fit over my head.  What a waste of jewelry.  I always thought she was being stupid so I put it back in my jewelry box.

I can't say I forgot about it, only that I never wore it as a necklace for more than a second.  It was always there.  This necklace-thing-no-one-could-wear called a Rosary just sitting in my jewelry box.  I never developed a love for it.  It was more of an underlying frustration.  Something I knew I just "didn't get".

My great grandmother's Rosary was always near her Bible-ish thing.. Book of Prayers.. Catholic Stuff Book and they were always either beside her bed or in her hands.  I never ever saw her praying.  I just know she did.  She prayed for all of us making it possible for me to play with my friends and live my child's world with security, abandon and only a modicum of fear and guilt because I knew she was handling all that "soul stuff".

I lived fifty years of my life with that "Thing" in my jewelry box.  It always had a whisper to cause me to pause, but never enough of a shout to prolong my interest or respect.  Until now.

The other day, at an office bazaar I found my prayer beads.  MINE..  The ones I am supposed to have.  The ones that speak to me.

I was minding my own business looking at all the embroidered pillows and handmade scarves.  I thought of my grandfather when I checked out the nut trees.  I tried on some fingerless gloves.  Then I came upon the Prayer Beads.  One caught my eye immediately.  The cross was a likeness of an angel.  The beads were pink crystal.  I picked them up and felt the texture of the large Cruciform beads and the progression of the Week beads.  I loved the color of the Invitatory bead.  So,  I put it down and walked away.

Later that night I purchased it from Elaine, a friend I admire for her intelligence, kindness and generosity.  She made them.  I picked it up and My Beads and I haven't been separated for long ever since.  I have them in my pocket or in my hand.  I don't know why.  I guess we are making friends.

It is funny how something inanimate like a handful of beads and a metal angel can have such an effect on me.  I know it isn't the beads themselves but actually the path and focus I follow when I pray and meditate with them.  Lately, without them my mind moves so fast and often my thoughts are frenzied.  Even in my meditation there are times where I have to keep coming back to my heart.. back to the silence of my soul.. over and over again because of my life's distractions.

These beads help me with that.  I can slow down and pray with purpose and focus.  I can surrender my hopes, fears and desires methodically with faith.  I have the comfort of the weight in my hands.    Around three times... feeling the facets of the beads in my fingertips...  understanding  my faith...  listening... feeling and listening....    I believe in God.  I believe in the Divine Feminine.  I believe that every soul is to be loved and cherished.  I find my worth.  I find my respect.  I find Truth.  I find Peace.

I also found something unexpected.  In my hands, in my mind and heart, in the certainty of my soul, through those inanimate beads I found my great grandmother.  Time melts away and the wisdom she was trying to impart on me, her gentle insistence that I treat my rosary as sacred is present and finally understood.

I have some jewelry that is very important to me.  I will never be without it.  My diamond necklace from my love.  My mother's gold earrings. The wooden heart on a string of yarn from Taylor when he was a boy.  My charm bracelet from my youth.  My scull bracelet from Grady.  I love these adornments.  I wear them with love.  I touch them for security.  They have become more than jewelry to me... but they have not become sacred.

My Prayer Beads are sacred.  They are my path to my strong and vulnerable soul.  They are my proof that all things are one.  Somehow my children are in those beads.  My husband, my future, my security, my writing, my parents... they're all in there.  My peace, everything I value and care for... it's there... I can feel it... in the palm of my hand.

Precious, Tangible, Sacred...

I keep my beads either next to my bed or in my hands.  I will allow my grandchildren or even my great grandchildren to touch them (If I live that long).  I will allow them to feel the energy of life and faith.  I will gently say no when they want to wear them as a bracelet.  I will simply say they are for prayer.  They will lose interest and walk away shaking their heads.  They won't get it, either...  Until they do...  And then they will know I am there with them and all things are exactly as they ought to be.

Thank you Grandma Mary.  Thank you Grandma Margaret.

I get it now.  I appreciate your feminine wisdom. 

I have Faith.  

My old plastic rosary from when I was a kid and my prayer beads.