When the need is greatest, when prayer is most necessary, our words fail us.
Last night was one of those times. My husband was on a mercy mission, driving all through the night to rescue our prodigal daughter. He left at 8:30 at night. Returned home at 8:30 this morning.
And he still managed to make it to Mass this morning.
Alas, the daughter still hasn't made the real journey home. In many ways, she is still the prodigal daughter. But, at least, she isn't stranded on the side of the road in Clarksville, Tennessee anymore. With all her earthly possessions in the broken down jeep. Sitting outside a Walgreens with her boyfriend (and father of her unborn baby). Borrowing a cell phone from any good samaritan she could find. Nibbling on candy that their last twenty dollars could buy.
Yes, there are times when words simply won't come - and yet, we are on our knees in prayer.
Last night, as yesterday slipped away and today took its place, I discovered the peace that comes with praying all four parts of the Rosary. Our Lady walked me through Our Lord's life, death and resurrection. And I realized that there are words to match my need.
There is something very holy about praying with Our Lady - all four Mysteries in succession. It is a soothing balm. A haven. sweet hour of prayer. And then, sleep came. A dreamless, deep sleep - and the sense that there were enough words and enough grace and enough mercy for even today.
Dear Saint Monica, intercede for my grown child - my child of many tears.