Rosary Girls

This morning I sat among my circle of ladies who've gathered to pray the Rosary for many years now.  We tried to calculate how long its been since it all began ...and we are a little foggy.  I think the time has been lost in prayer.  It is at least eight years ...could be ten.  We're just not quite sure.  At first we prayed at night, after my little ones were in bed.  Three of us began ...not always together.  There were times it was just me, praying the Rosary ...trusting it would grow ...more would come as we recognized the need for God in this untidy world.  When nights became harder as children got bigger and more difficult to settle earlier in the night, we moved our gathering time to Friday mornings.  And that is where it has been for many years.  People have come and gone.  Some came once, some for years ...we waxed and waned.  But still, a core of us held firm to gathering every Friday to pray together, for each other.  Babies have been born, and grown.  Parent's have died, other relatives too.  A husband, and dear friend died. We've prayed people well, people to die with dignity, people back to the faith.  We've prayed for fortitude, perseverance in the faith, gratitude for friendship.  We've begged God to bless our children, our marriages, our faith.  We've prayed for holy priests, for patience and trust to survive ...even thrive in a place that is far away, in many ways, from the teachings of Rome, our Church.  We've prayed for the unwed mothers ...an end to abortion ...and most especially the unborn.  We've prayed for so many things and have woven a fine tapestry of sincere, but imperfect prayer to our Heavenly Father.  We've prayed for each other and we have grown to love one another in a unique and blessed way.  I believe now, we cannot survive without each other.  I know this to be true.
We've prayed for everything, through everything, but now we've been given the task, the harrowing, heartaching task of praying through the loss of a child ...my child, Phoebe.  And I can tell you, that the depth of their pain, the sense of their loss ...is not much shallower than my own.  We are all stunned that this could have happened, and it puts all of us on alert, makes everyone question the safety of their own children.  But more, these women know and love Phoebe.  I don't mean that in a simple way ...I mean they really loved her.  They miss her too! 
It is a funny thing to see how we have grown together, walked together hoping to find Heaven.  All of us stumble, we are an unholy crew striving for holiness.  We have all been humbled and brought to the very knees we thought we were already on.  We are a group of women trying with all our might, to live an authentically Catholic life, every millimeter in line with the fullness of the Church's teachings.  I am not patting us on the back, raising us up, saying we are better than anyone ...I am simply and honestly saying that each day we strive to live a heroic life, centered fully on Christ ...regardless of the cost.  And some of us, all of us now, have paid an extraordinarily high price.  Our loss of Phoebe has shaken our faith to the very core ...and yet, we gather ...and we pray ...trusting.  We offer our Rosary knowing that without it ...we may well lose our way.  We are not afraid, overly scrupulous ...we simply trust God and know that to survive this ...we must stay very, very close to Him. 
I wish everyone had the gift of a prayer group like this.  It is likely, that if it were not for this group, some of us would not be friends today.  Our paths would never cross, or our interests, ages of our children would not cultivate a natural friendship .., yet because of a circle of beads, we are bound together.  They have seen me at my worst ...desperate, afraid, alone, angry, weak.  And they have seen me when my heart is full and I can step forward.  They've watched all of my children grow ...and they've watched one die.  They've seen my mothering, watched my impatience, my disappointments and frustrations ...and loved me through them.  They've shared their confidence that things will be well for us again.  Gently, and with great compassion and charity, they have helped remove scales from my eyes when I haven't seen clearly.  They've held my head and shifted my gaze every so slightly so I might see  through a finer lens.  And all this before Phoebe's passing.  And now, they give even more.  They've dug even deeper into their hearts and reached to far away places to care for me and my family.
As I move closer to Bethlehem, I see them more clearly.  These women have been swaddling me and my family.  I've felt as though I've been walking this trail alone ...but my servants have followed close by.  I've wanted to feel Phoebe's arms around me ...and I have not been blessed with that.  Maybe someday.  But I have been wrapped in the arms of the Rosary Girls. And I am tremendously grateful. 
Another friend, shared with me a reflection she heard about the Blessed Mother.  The priest offered the thought that as we approach her to intercede for us and place our children under the protection of her mantle, she considers us one of "her girls."  So when we do something that is pleasing to God, in a way she herself would have, it's as if she is saying "That's my girl!"  I think the Blessed Mother has been saying that a lot lately about the women in my life.  I imagine as all of Heaven watches these women so generously tend to us, she is there too,  "Yup, those are my girls!"  May I one day be one of "her girls."

Eternal rest grant unto Phoebe and may perpetual light shine upon her.  May she rest in peace, Amen.