I prayed a communal rosary today, three decades. The devout setting was wonderful; interesting, intelligent, personable brothers and sisters shared in the experience. I felt an aridity, an inability to experience bliss. I know I am making progress.

Dramatics forefront, I at first confronted the dryness with proclamations. I pleaded with my beloved Mother to understand my love and desire to do anything for her. If I could I would rip my heart from my chest and offer it to her. There had to be some tremendous effort I could endure in order to demonstrate my authentic overwhelming love.

A quiet calm prayer voice arose informing me to relax, slow down, be at peace. My abstinence from alcohol meant everything to My Blessed Mother. She loved the effort, finding my sobriety a heroic effort. It moved Her so much she showered graces upon those I loved–those I hurt in my insanity. Other forms of healing, psychological and spiritual, My Mother, the Undoer of Knots, would assist with as long as drunkenness remained rejected. It is the cross I must carry.

“The beginner, influenced by fear, endures with patience the Cross of Christ. The proficient, animated by hope, bears it willingly. He that is perfect in charity embraces it with the ardor of love.”

I recalled my time in the friary, the closing communal rosary at the end of the day. The lights were turned off, candles illuminating statues of Mary and Joseph. A third candle illuminated the domineering chapel crucifix. On special evenings, the candle offered special sight to the exposed Blessed Sacrament. The Franciscan Rosary provided a little bit of heaven. Ecstasy filled, tears at times flowing.

Today, the Rosary intensely embraced amongst others brought no special joy. Peace inducing, nothing extraordinary occurred. I felt it hinted at spiritual maturity.

Photo courtesy of Unlikely Wanderer (Facebook). Unlikely Wanderer website. A photographer whose images I will hopefully and prayerfully be utilizing in the future.