An Introduction
When I was a little girl, perhaps about
seven or eight, something unpleasant was keeping me wide awake in the middle of
the night. Who knows what it might have
been? Perhaps an unfinished bit of
homework or some other little trouble, but whatever it was, it left me staring
at the ceiling with silent tears dripping from the corners of my eyes. Somehow or other, through the gloom, I turned
my head to see a small, white beaded pouch on the bedside table. I reached for it and pulled out my new First
Holy Communion Rosary, the white set given to all the little girls at St.
Mary's School. Feeling the tiny beads between my fingers, I asked the Blessed
Mother for help, praying decade after decade of Hail Marys, until I fell
asleep. The next day, the problem righted itself, and I knew deep within my
heart that the Blessed Mother had helped me.
Although I barely knew how to say the rosary and had not yet learned
much about the mysteries, those beads were in my hand every night from then on,
a constant source of help and consolation.
My grandmother had a leather album so old
that the pages were cracked and the binding squeaked when you opened it. Inside were beautiful pictures, page after
page of images of the Mysteries of the Rosary.
Long before I learned the names of the mysteries, I would stare at those
pictures, turning the pages with interest and devotion. The images are still etched in my mind: The Angel Gabriel offering a lily to the
Blessed Mother; Our Lord enduring the crown of thorns with a look of patient
sorrow; Our Lady assumed into Heaven, carried through the clouds by
cherubim. Those pictures once meant
everything to me, and, although the names of the mysteries were not written
beneath them, the images turned into meditations in and of themselves and,
little by little, taught me how to say the rosary.
Father Stephen's beautiful little book, Rosary Mysteries for Young People gave me the feeling my grandmother's leather album once gave--the recognition of beauty drawing you in to devotion. It is a book I wish I could pass along to my younger self, that little girl saying the rosary with artless simplicity, but longing to know more. I am even gladder to be able to give it to my own children and to pray it alongside them. The artwork is more beautiful than the pictures I loved in childhood, and each bead has its own sensitive meditation with words of solace and faith. Young people (and old) will drink deeply of the beauty of these mysteries and learn how to spend time thinking about the life of Our Lord and the love of His holy mother.
Father Stephen's beautiful little book, Rosary Mysteries for Young People gave me the feeling my grandmother's leather album once gave--the recognition of beauty drawing you in to devotion. It is a book I wish I could pass along to my younger self, that little girl saying the rosary with artless simplicity, but longing to know more. I am even gladder to be able to give it to my own children and to pray it alongside them. The artwork is more beautiful than the pictures I loved in childhood, and each bead has its own sensitive meditation with words of solace and faith. Young people (and old) will drink deeply of the beauty of these mysteries and learn how to spend time thinking about the life of Our Lord and the love of His holy mother.
Each time Our Lady appeared at Fatima, she
repeated the same words, "Say the rosary every day." In a world too often blind to God and His
holy mother, a lifelong habit of the rosary is a gift that will shine a light
through the darkness, remaining with our children all their lives. Years ago, my mother had a terrible stroke
that wiped away most of her memory and almost all the use of her limbs. No matter how bleak her condition seemed, the
one thing never lost was her ability to say the rosary. I can still see her in her hospital bed,
following along with me, every prayer and every mystery--the rosary was always
with her. One day, a doctor pulled me
aside and said, "I think your mother is slipping into dementia." When I asked for an explanation, he said,
"She is always so cheerful, always smiling and happy--people in her
condition are normally depressed and angry." "Oh, that's not dementia," I told
him, "that's just holiness."
It was the gift of the rosary from childhood until the last days of
life.
Father Stephen once taught one of my children that beside any image of Our Lady, there should always be a flower and a candle. This is something they never forgot, and when we say our family rosary, the candle is always lit and burning by a statue of the Blessed Mother. Now this holy book, with its words of tenderness and love, will be with us as well, guiding our thoughts and and prayers, so we may always remember to trust our Holy Mother.
Alice Gunther
Feast of St. Joseph the Worker 2014
Father Stephen once taught one of my children that beside any image of Our Lady, there should always be a flower and a candle. This is something they never forgot, and when we say our family rosary, the candle is always lit and burning by a statue of the Blessed Mother. Now this holy book, with its words of tenderness and love, will be with us as well, guiding our thoughts and and prayers, so we may always remember to trust our Holy Mother.
Alice Gunther
Feast of St. Joseph the Worker 2014