I usually carry a rosary in my pocket, especially when I’m at work. It’s not a good luck charm, don’t think that. I just happen to be devoted to this beautiful prayer, and sometimes I’ll start a rosary and get interrupted and will return to it later.
It means I have rosaries scattered all over the place. In my car. In my briefcase. In random pockets. Hanging on my computer screen. On the bulletin board in the kitchen. On a plaque my sister gave me. In my purse (um, I don’t use a purse very often). Several on my desk. Too much? You get the picture.
The rosary pictured is my go-to rosary…it’s short and the beads are spaced just right. It also survives a run through the washing machine quite well, lol. Who knew I was a connoisseur of rosaries? Makes me laugh a little, but it’s true. It fits my hand just right so it’s usually in the console of my car and accompanies me to work.
It also makes for mad dashes to the laundry basket when I forget to put it back in the console at the end of the day. That happened to me yesterday. I went to reach for the rosary in the afternoon and came up with lint. I had once again misplaced the rosary. Luckily, I had my handy dandy Steelers rosary hanging from the rearview (odd, you might ask? it doesn’t get much use, but daily smiles when I see it).
Anyway, the missing rosary led me on a wild goose chase through dirty clothes, stacks of papers, and finally, a little basket full of flash drives, holy cards, and paper clips. Oh, and a medal of St. Teresa of Avila that I have had for a couple of years and kept taking out and tossing back into the little basket. I think she finally had enough of me claiming her as my patron saint and not giving her any attention.
Sorry about that, dear Terry. I hope you like where I moved you.
2 thoughts on “St. Teresa and lint in my pocket”
I too have a collection of Rosaries that I’ve gotten here and there over the years: a couple from the Knights of Columbus, one from Rosary Army, some that people have given me, and some that were found among my mother’s belongings after she died. One Rosary I bought is what’s called an Irish Penal Rosary. For most of the 18th century, Catholicism was essentially illegal in Ireland, and Catholics were oppressed under a system called the Penal Laws. Anyone caught practicing the faith was subject to severe penalties. A Penal Rosary was a short single decade rosary with a ring at one end. The ring can be moved to the different fingers of the hand as you go through the decades. The rosary was deliberately shortened so that it could be quickly concealed in the hand, up a sleeve, or in a pocket. It makes me think of all my Irish ancestors who were persecuted for their faith.
That’s lovely. Are you blogging? I’d love to hear more!