My Broken Rosary

My Broken Rosary

 By Karen Edmisten

     It was November, just before Thanksgiving and I was at the doctor’s office.  I was pregnant, and cautiously hoping I would carry this baby to term.  Though we had two beautiful children, after multiple miscarriages I took nothing for granted.  The image on the ultrasound screen was not what it should have been.      

     “I’m concerned it may be an ectopic pregnancy,” said my obstetrician, “but this early, an ultrasound can fool us.”  He told me to come back in five days: “A few days can make a huge difference in what we see.”  He did his best to assure me that all would be well.      

     I left the office feeling frightened and terribly sad.  I was seven weeks along; we should have seen a heartbeat.  The possibility that all was well seemed remote.  I prayed; I hoped; but I feared.

     Five days later, the picture did look different.  There was no sign of trouble in the fallopian tube, and the baby was indeed in the womb.  Still, we could not detect a heartbeat.  My doctor wanted to try one more ultrasound in a few more days — couldn’t we have miscalculated the date of conception, he wondered?  Not likely, I said, for a couple who knows the fine points of Natural Family Planning as well as we do. Given my history, I feared the worst.  I reported the news to my closest friends with great sadness.  “No heartbeat,” was all I could say.  My friends offered me prayers, comfort and shoulders to cry on. 

    

     But I had one friend who remained upbeat.  “Hang on until the next ultrasound,” she urged.  “We have no idea what God has in store for your little one.  Pray to Our Lady of Guadalupe, the protector of the unborn.”     

     Of course — Our Lady of Guadalupe! And so began the rosaries, asking for her intercession.  A few days later, I received a beautiful rosary in the mail — it was a gift from a pro-life organization to which we had donated, and it bore the image of Our Lady of Guadalupe.  My heart jumped, and I dared to hope this was a sign of an impending miracle.     

     The next day, on our way out of the house to go to the doctor’s office, my four year old begged to hold the pretty rosary.  I handed it to her as we drove to the home of a friend who would watch the kids during my appointment.  When we arrived at my friend’s, the rosary was in pieces.  “I’m sorry, Mama,” my little girl said.  “It broke.”  She clutched a few beads and links and looked at me sadly.      

     “It’s okay,” I told her.  “Things break.  You didn’t mean to.”

     But inside, I feared that my “sign” had broken too.  I had been hoping and trusting in my prayers to Our Lady of Guadalupe and now the rosary, that unexpected gift that prompted me to hope for a miracle, was in pieces.    

     Later, at the doctor’s office, the final news came.  No growth… no heartbeat… no sign of life.  Blood tests over the next week confirmed that the levels of pregnancy hormone had dropped; the baby had died.    

     In my grief, I forgot for a time about my broken rosary, but then a strange thing happened.  Though I mourned our lost child, circumstances surrounding the miscarriage led to some resolution regarding an old and very painful emotional wound.   In other words, had I not miscarried, I would not have been healed of this old wound.  What an amazing grace, I thought, and I thanked God for what He had done for me through the short life and the death of my child.      

     It was then that I remembered the rosary.  As I pieced it back together, I found that I had been able to save nearly all of it.  One decade was missing two beads, and my tinkering with the links left it looking a bit crooked, but it was repaired.     

     Gazing at it, I was struck by the incongruity.  This once-perfect thing was now bent, crooked and imperfect, yet still beautiful.  It was like us, like our lives.  Though we were made in the perfect image of God, we are bent and crooked with original sin; even after baptism we are still crippled by its after-effects.  We stumble through this life tarnishing the perfect image, while our Lord repeatedly tinkers with us, repairs us, and heals us.       

     I remembered my sinking feeling when I saw that the rosary had been broken, how I felt all my hopes instantly dashed.  I had imagined that the gift of the rosary meant that I would receive the gift of my baby.  What I received instead — the healing — was a great gift that I could not have predicted.  I couldn’t have known how beautifully the Lord would use my child to heal me; I couldn’t have known how this unexpected rosary would become the symbol of God’s work in a  broken part of my life. Now, when I pray with my broken rosary, I think of my baby and I know that my friend was right — we had no idea what God had in store for my little one.  He is always, ineffably, and so unexpectedly, making crooked ways straight.

3 thoughts on “My Broken Rosary

  1. Your story is uplifting to me for the struggles and crooked ways my life is in now. My little sister has ovarian cancer and her female cousins…. (why not to men??? God knows) are saying the rosary with her healing intentions. The beauty is that a few of us have confessed to have not said the rosary for a very long time. The peace that comes for the prayer to our Blessed Mother for interession is like the hope when your daughter came to you with the broken rosary and you replied as a loving mother would, even though discouraged inside.

    Your encouraging friend is an Angel; bless your family and thank the good Lord for his mercy and faithfulness to his people. Pam

  2. Thank you for sharing your sorrow and joy. I try to pray the rosary and Chaplet of Divine Mercy each day. God has blessed me in ways I could have never foreseen since I began this journey. God bless you always

  3. Where I can buy a rosary as this one? I am of españa and I it do not find for ningun side. Thank you for praying for the children. A greeting.

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