The Traveling Rosary

It's not much to look at. I'm looking at it right now, as I write this. It's a brown, corded rosary. I don't even remember where I got it from or who gave it to me (if you are reading this and it was you, please let me know!!). It looks plain, nondescript. It's the Traveling Rosary and it is very special to me.

Last year while I was working in France, I had the amazing gift of visiting Lourdes. For those of you who don't know, Lourdes is the location in Southern France where Our Lady appeared to a peasant girl named Bernadette. The miraculous stream that Our Lady directed Bernadette to dig in the mud is still there; over the years, it has sunk further into the ground. There is a basilica built over it and you are allowed to walk through the grotto she stood in during her apparitions.

It was pouring rain when I visited Lourdes and, not having an umbrella, I was soaked to the bone. But the good thing about the rain was everyone was off trying to find shelter; I was already wet so I didn't care and got to experience a good deal of Lourdes without the throbbing masses of tourists being present. You aren't really allowed to stop when you are walking through the grotto. There is a place to pause and pray outside but they keep people moving inside so everyone has a chance to see it. Being that there were significantly less people than usual going through the grotto, I went through twice. I noticed the people in front of me touching holy card, papers with prayer intentions, rosaries, statues and any number of other religious objects to the walls of the grotto as they went through. The second time I went through the grotto I was ready with my rosary - my brown, nondescript rosary I had picked because it was the only rosary I owned I was sure I couldn't break - and I held it against the walls the entire time I was walking through. I held tight to that rosary the rest of my time in France, determined not to lose it before I got home.

I enjoyed having this special sacramental and praying with it but God had other plans. A month or so after I got home, the father of my godson had a heart attack. They were able to bring him back but it was touch and go for awhile and even after he was stable, they weren't certain how extensive the brain damage was or how much of a recovery he would make. I brought my Lourdes rosary to the hospital during the first weeks after his attack and gave it to his wife. It was hard giving it up and I certainly never expected to see it again but I knew that family needed it more than I did.

Just over a year later, this morning after Mass, my friend walked out of church with her husband - the one who had suffered a heart attack - walking beside her. She stopped me and said she had my rosary. I had forgotten all about it but I was thrilled to have it back in my hands again.

I have a feeling this rosary might not be mine to hold. Instead, it might be "mine" to lend; getting it back only to pass it off to the next person in need.

I am okay with that.