Sunday, March 29, 2015

My "Rosary" Ring

I am not Catholic, but I understand that rosary beads are used by Catholics as a guide to prayer.  Each bead represents a prayer.  I have my own version of “rosary beads,” and it is a ring.

About 20 years ago, my children gave me a ring with each of their birthstones in it.  The ring was configured to allow for additional stones to be added.  A few years ago when the ring needed to be re-sized for my aging knuckles, I decided to have the birthstones of my grandchildren added.  There were 8 at that point, so four stones were added on each side of the original four which represented my children.  Last year, a ninth grandchild was born, and a stone was added on the side to represent her.  I have room for 3 more stones before I have to get a new ring with more spaces.

Since adding the birthstones of grandchildren, I have been using my ring as a prayer reminder, and calling it my “rosary ring.”  When I look down at my hand, I am reminded to pray for my family.  Sometimes I run a finger of the opposite hand over the ring and ask God to bless my family in a general way.  More often, I look at each stone individually and pray for the person it represents.

In Isaiah 49:14-16, Israel thinks that God has forgotten her, but through the prophet, He says, Can a mother forget the baby at her breast and have no compassion on the child she has borne?  Though she may forget, I will not forget you!  See, I have engraved you on the palms of my hands….”

Could a mother and grandmother forget her family?  Possibly…not likely, but possibly.  I suppose I could become senile and not have any idea what my ring represents.


But, God will not forget those He loves.  They are not just on a ring, but engraved on His palms.


Thursday, March 12, 2015

Beached

In the sand just above the lapping waves,
It lies helpless,
A lifeless gelatinous mass.

Cast on the shore motionless and dying,
Unable to crawl
Back into the nurturing brine.

Floating in the depths, it had stingers
Hidden in its translucency,
A way to protect itself.

On the beach it is defenseless
Quiet and senseless.
The embodiment of vulnerability.

I once lay on the edge above the waves
Of the life-giving sea,
Afraid to move back toward it.

Accused of using my stingers,
My past was with gossip
Dredged up altered and rewritten.

I lay motionless, vulnerable, in need.
Knowing I must
Return to the nurture of the sea.

Aware that the saltiness would cause pain
In my open wounds,
I inched back embracing it.

I could not, would not remain beached.
Life itself could be lost,
By avoiding the depths.

To bask in its warmth and buoyancy,
I needed to crawl back
Into a different part of the ocean.


The jellyfish died…..I lived.