The feast of Our Lady of Fatima passed last month, and I’ve read our favorite story book versions of her incredible story to our children a couple times this week – not on the actual feast day, mind you. It slipped my consciousness then. We’ve some real-life, post-baby, liturgical living whenever we can going on here!
I always smile when I remember the children’s shortened version of the rosary, and it reminds me of how easy it is to let my end-of-day rendition follow theirs in spirit. As a mother, I’ve grown fond of these rote prayers which feed my lips words when I’m too weary to compose my own but still offer some time to my king; were I completely quiet, I would soon be slumbering! Still, the temptation to rattle them off and check them off is ever present.
Unless…I think of what my heart’s true current translation of those familiar terms is. See, the meaning behind the prayer can change from pleading to ranting to revering very quickly. Here, is the little-child version I’ve been saying lately.
Hail Mary (hi Mom! It’s been such a crazy day!)
Full of grace (I don’t know how you mother us all when I can barely keep everyone alive here, but I’m so grateful for you and your example)
The Lord is with you! (He was literally with you, climbing all over you, chattering non-stop…)
Blessed are you among women (Speaking of which, Mom, you are so wonderful – “cue buttering-up tone here”)
Blessed is the fruit of your womb, Jesus. (And Jesus is after all your, Son, who loves to say yes to your requests!)
Holy Mary, Mother of God (Could you use some of that amazing motherly persuasion for me?)
Pray for us sinners (I desperately need all the help I can get!)
Now and at the hour of death. (and death can’t be much worse than how I feel right now..)
Amen. (and thank you!)
I think Mom understands. 🙂
