our lady of subtle miracles.

{Do you want to listen to this post? Click below... or read on....}

 

Everyday I *try* and wake up thankful for the small things. The way the gray casts down on the mountain's peak. The woosh and crack of the evergreen brances on the windiest mornings and how glad I am that they are staying on the tree and not breaking off and flying into my window.  My youngest daughter still asleep, breathing, alive, drooling on the pillow.  The chatter of the older ones learning to get ready all on their own. The warmth of a floor under my feet. Running water. Food in the refidgerator. Electricity. A car. Fuel. Privilege. Love. A family.

Sometimes I get caught up with *not* having the larger things.  A home that we own. The farm I have always dreamed about and craved.  The big huge barn filled with hanging lights and a massive table for gatherings. The yurt in a tropial place that we go to heal and rejuviniate. The book that remains unwritten. Not having good + true leadership in this country. Rampant and unforgivable racism and sexism. A shit storm of an education system.  The lack of spirituality and the forward drive for organized religion, still. After all the wars, still, there is this need to be right or wrong.  Violence against women and children.  The fact that every time I walk out my door I hold a sense of fear on my shoulders because as a woman in this world, that is my burden to carry.  We get raped. Assulted. Killed. And to hold that fear on my shoulders for my daughters as well. How were are facing a culture that wants to lock out instead of open up and embrace.  

The big things. Whoa. They can go on and on they can really get to me, ya know? And the more I focus on them the bigger they appear. So big that I forget to remember the subtle miracles that happen every day. To me. 

Like breathing. And a smile from a stranger. And how whipped cream really does make everything better. And how my ass is shaped even at my age. And the how I have someone to kiss me long and hard. And his hands. And their laughter. And muddy paws of a loyal companion. Text messages from good friends. There are so many subtle miracles every day and the more I go on and on the longer the list gets.

It’s the subtle miracles and paying attention to them that invite me to grow into the biggest thing of all:: a better person with the ability to give more love and understanding to everyone I meet.

*

I started making rosary beads last month.  I thought I was going insane and my anxiety was higher and tighter than I would like to admitt. I was smoking a lot. Drinking as much as I could to drowned it all out. I was getting mean and angry and just ugly.  The cultural hatred born out of fear felt like is was clinging to the air and every breath I took I was inhaling it and forgetting to exhale. And I was keeping it. Sharing in the toxicity. Becoming it.

I don’t even remember what brought me to the bead store.  It might have been a little box of old scapular pieces I have had since I was a kid and thinking :: I should make necklaces out of them.

Maybe it was because after chanting in sankrit every morning I woke up and realized what prayer it was I said every time I got on the plane and repeated it over and over until we were at an elevation of 30k feet and also chanted as we descended until we were safely on the ground. And what I chanted in transition for all my children, as my body got as wide as it ever would to bring down their heads and bodies into my hands.  And what I chanted every weekend for a decade as a little girl sitting with my grandpa and going around the beads in candlelight.  And maybe because my Aunt Betty always said to me “Our Lady is always with you, Mary, talk to her. She listens. When your mother was pregnant with you I prayed to her every day to keep you close to her and for her to surround you in her love."

Maybe it was just a conversation around all that - that I needed to have.

But it was simple. The Hail Mary is the mantra prayer of my roots.

And so I would say it, with the lights dim as the fire crackled at night and I would say in the morning before anyone woke up, as I dropped bead after bead after bead. Creating an active prayer. And making something beautiful, infused with peace, peace that I found in me and a peace I know the world can find as well.  Making these were the only thing that dismantled my anxiety.  That lifted the weight of depression.  It gave me hope. It showed me mercy. It was self compassion in action. 

 

Mary is here. And she is for everyone. This is the message I clearly received when I was making the rosaries. How can we kneel before her, with her, co-create, collaborate, recalibrate? 

She doesn’t care how you pray the Hail Mary around the beads {I will post soon the version I use}. She just wants you to call her in. That is all you need to do.  Call her in.  And be ready. She is available.  The world aches and she wants to work with us to soothe and heal the pain.  She is pouring a baby blue river of light around us all, empowering us with her divinity, with our divinity. Because it is one in the same.  She is the Mother of God, which means she is the Mother of All.  Queen of Heaven. Empress of Hell. Gatekeeper for the middle ground.  She is 10,000 faces and 10,000 names.  But she is ours, in this time, this era, the human goddess who walked the earth a mere 2000 years ago.  A priestess who channeled a prophet.  A woman who was of her own power and accord.  The feminine who rose and now wraps her arms around us.  We are in need.  And she wants to give.

*

I wasn’t going to sell these. I had no intention at all.  I just wanted to give them away.  And I have given many away.  But I want to make more of them.  I am called to.  At a pace that feels right.  And so when I talked to Mary, she said, receive for the gifts you give, and make more.  I want more and more people to call in Mary, make it a movement.  Make it a mission.  Make her your own. Use the beads.  Wear them. Pray with them. Lay them on your altar. Pass them on.  

*

This rosary was made with the intention of remembering the small miracles of the day.  The easy stuff that we forget.  The subtle stuff.  I was told the large beads are yellow turquoise, the small white ones are yak bones.  There are golden wood beads along side a faceted gemstone I know nothing about but is milky and gorgeous and rich.  The relic is Our Lady Of Miracles made in Italy.  It’s all subtle colors…gentle.  But you can definitely *feel*  them on… not heavy… but noticable. The subtle colors and the heavier weight :: a  reminder of the simple miracles of everyday. To make them big.  Make them be seen. Pay attention. Hold them with reverence. Because the small and subtle are the greatest things we have.

If you are interested in this rosary you can purchase HERE.

Each Mystic Rosary comes with a personal Message From Mary reading for you.

From my heart, my grief, my joy, my mystery... to yours, 

MaryBeth xx