A Litany of Faithfulness

We went back to the Big Church on Sunday. To be honest, I was beginning to wonder if we'd ever go back to church at all or if we would just join the faithful throwing the Frisbee at George Ward Park on Sunday mornings. I realized as we neared the church why we had waited a month to go. It was hard to go back. I suppose I've realized that it would be, I just didn't know what to expect from myself. By the time we had parked and walked inside, I was weeping. It isn't that I didn't want to be there, it's just that I realized what being there meant. For the second time in my life, I was back at the Big Church against my will--because our plan had unraveled--because we wanted to be near to Jesus and just didn't know what else to do. For some reason, the Big Church always wants me back. For the second time, I came emotionally disheveled. Heart sick and broken. I don't belong here, I thought. I don't belong here, yet I do.

Much later that night, I woke up in the darkness. I wished I had a rosary to work. I would rub my sorrow right into those beads. I would rub into them my grief, my heart sickness, my insignificance as I sent my prayers up to God. If I did pray the rosary, I think I would use those beads to count off God's faithfulness.

You were faithful...

When I was lost.

You were faithful...

When I was afraid.

You were faithful...

When I didn't know what to do.

You were faithful...

When I was not.

O my Jesus, forgive us our sins, and save us from the fires of Hell. Lead all souls to Heaven, especially those most in need of Thy Mercy.

I think when I used up my three decades of beads, I would start on my father's. I would start on King David's. I would start on my sister's. I would start on my hopes of faithfulness to come, and I would rub and I would work those beads until they turned to dust in my hands. And then I would start praying that litany of faithfulness again on a string of beads that could surely travel the distance between my broken heart and God's.