The Rosary of My Life

LILLIAN SANDICO VERGARA

I always keep a rosary in my purse. It’s a habit I picked up when I wore the Lourdes habit in my youth and reinforced by my husband, who, like the Ateneans of yore, always tucked a rosary in his pocket along with a white handkerchief.

Whenever I am worried, anxious, or bored, I instinctively reach for my rosary and pray. It calms me down and makes me feel secure, thinking it gives me a direct line to God. 

The recent pandemic has given me and my househelp enough time and reason to pray – fervently and regularly. We attend online mass together and pray the rosary every day, reflecting on the mysteries and dedicating each decade for specific intentions: for those who passed away recently, those in pain or seriously ill, for the end of the pandemic, for our country and our families, even for the war victims in Ukraine. 

Holding the beads in our hands helps us to focus and meditate on singular events or mysteries in the life of Jesus. But for me, the rosary has taken a more personal dimension: it reminds me of past and present events when God has been working In MY life.

The joyful mysteries: the seemingly ordinary events like first love, wedding, the birth of our children and their growing up milestones like the first word, first step, birthdays, graduations, and eventually leaving home to start a family or to reside abroad. Those moments always give me a warm feeling of fulfillment, a bit of melancholy, and thanks.

The sorrowful mysteries: the endless hospital visits and confinements before my husband died and then the untimely death of my daughter a few years after. The pain that rises from the pit of my being repeats each time I recall those terrible times. There were more to grieve over: more deaths among family and friends, some decisions poorly made, even the loss of candidates chosen. These moments remind me the world indeed can be a valley of tears.

The glorious mysteries: the times when I feel God’s “rewards” – passing difficult tests, academic recognitions, promotions, even the indescribable happy feeling of being of help to someone.

The mysteries of the Light – those precious occasions when I feel God speaking to me: the life-changing retreats, daily meditations, the incisive readings so insightful and rich they draw me to discernment.

I hold each memory as gingerly as I pray on the beads of my rosary. In my 70s now, I see my life as a rosary of moments, all defining, all blessed because God is in them all the time.