Helping Mother Mary Help Me with the Rosary

I know every parent has one of these moments. When you stare your child dead in the eye and ask him or her a question only to receive a blank look in response. So, you ask again, maybe clarify what information you’re looking for, rephrase. And you get –a long, slow blink.

Now your frustration level amps up, because this whole thing started because they wanted something from you, and now that you’re engaging with them, they shut down.

You want to help. You truly do. But how can you do anything for your child when your request for more information is met with silence? Insert the Jerry Maguire scene here, “Help me help you! Help me help you!”

This was my morning amidst making breakfast, packing lunches, getting reluctant students ready for school and out the door. My littlest one stops and is clearly upset about something big brother said or did–I’m still not 100% sure what happened. When my quest for more information yielded nothing but a glazed expression of someone listening to a creature with three heads speak three different foreign languages, I snapped.

I found myself saying (loudly and in my best mom voice), “You need to talk to me. Answer me when I’m talking to you. I can’t help you if you don’t talk to me.”

It wasn’t until later in the morning, as I was getting ready to pray the rosary that my words came flying back at me.

“I can’t help you if you don’t talk to me.”

It had been over a week since I’d sat down with the rosary. I had let life and the every day busyness of raising three kids and caring for a home and family silence me. Earlier this year, I had set a goal of praying a daily rosary, and September has been my worst month yet. Sure, school started up again, and with it fall sports and activities. But, those were all excuses. I lapsed because I allowed myself to lapse. And I was feeling the effects of it.

Tiny aggravations had piled on top of each other in the meantime. My temper had grown shorter and more jagged in the days since I’d last prayed the rosary. Positivity and lightness had grown heavier and darker. It didn’t happen overnight. There was no switch that flipped.

It happened gradually, a little slip each day, until two steps forward one step back felt more like three steps back and one step forward. 

And the whole time while I moaned and complained about the tiredness and tediousness of it all, my Mama Mary was trying to talk to me. But I was so caught up in feeling bad, I was staring blankly back at her. I wasn’t talking to her, I wasn’t sharing with her, I wasn’t asking for her help or advice. 

After all, she’d done this all mom-thing, too. She washed loads of laundry every week, prepared meals, cleaned the house, trekked from Bethlehem to Egypt and back again. She educated her son until he was old enough to go to school. She raised him and disciplined him.

Helping Mama Mary help me.

So, today, I am renewing my efforts to pray the rosary daily, to keep my end of the conversation with Mama Mary going, to focus on what she wants to tell me, what lessons she wants to teach me. By working to be a better daughter, I am hoping to learn to be better mother.

I promised myself I wouldn’t beat myself up over the lost days, but instead, I will focus on trying to be better. As we tell our kids before a game, it’s all about the effort. Some days you win and some days you lose, but you should always give it your best effort. I haven’t been giving it my best effort, and it shows.

This week, my prayer intentions are for my parenting, to improve communication with my little one, as well as the two who used to be little and are not so little anymore. To be able to hear more than their words, and to find ways to hear and understand what I’m saying. And also for the patience to endure and overcome the blank stares and the monosyllabic grunts. 

I hope everyone has a blessed week. Remember to talk to your Mama Mary.