Something Borrowed, Something Blue
When I was younger, I was jealous that my sister had a "fancy" rosary. It had belonged to my mother, and my mom gave it to my sister for her first holy communion. It was white and had its own special pouch. I thought it was beautiful.
Of course, once my mom gave that rosary to my sister, she didn't have another to give me for my first holy communion. Instead, I collected the plastic rosaries distributed annually in religion class; I tried to select or trade for my favorite colors, but they still didn't seem as nice as the one my sister had.
Fast-forward several years later, when my aunt and uncle returned from a trip to Europe. They brought my grandma a blue rosary from Italy; I believe it was blessed by the Pope. Around that time, I was planning a wedding, and I wanted a rosary to wrap around my bouquet. My plastic rosaries weren't exactly what I had in mind, and I don't know if my sister could locate her white rosary. Therefore, I asked my grandma if she would lend me her new rosary. It was both something borrowed and something blue, and it looked beautiful against my white bouquet.
When my grandmother passed away last year, I thought about that rosary and how much it had meant to me on such an important day. My grandma had been present for all the major celebrations in my life (minus the handful of birthdays when I was living in a different city), and my experience growing up was a major reason I wanted to move back home so that my kids could also see their grandparents on a regular basis.
The blue rosary now seemed to symbolize my memories of my grandmother, so I asked if I could have the rosary. My aunt and uncle had gotten the rosary back, but they generously agreed to let me have it - a decision made even more special by the fact that they are my godparents.
I don't think I will be ready to part with it by the time my daughter has her first holy communion, but maybe someday I will be helping her wrap it around her own wedding bouquet. If I do, I know my grandma will be there with us, too.
Of course, once my mom gave that rosary to my sister, she didn't have another to give me for my first holy communion. Instead, I collected the plastic rosaries distributed annually in religion class; I tried to select or trade for my favorite colors, but they still didn't seem as nice as the one my sister had.
Fast-forward several years later, when my aunt and uncle returned from a trip to Europe. They brought my grandma a blue rosary from Italy; I believe it was blessed by the Pope. Around that time, I was planning a wedding, and I wanted a rosary to wrap around my bouquet. My plastic rosaries weren't exactly what I had in mind, and I don't know if my sister could locate her white rosary. Therefore, I asked my grandma if she would lend me her new rosary. It was both something borrowed and something blue, and it looked beautiful against my white bouquet.
When my grandmother passed away last year, I thought about that rosary and how much it had meant to me on such an important day. My grandma had been present for all the major celebrations in my life (minus the handful of birthdays when I was living in a different city), and my experience growing up was a major reason I wanted to move back home so that my kids could also see their grandparents on a regular basis.
The blue rosary now seemed to symbolize my memories of my grandmother, so I asked if I could have the rosary. My aunt and uncle had gotten the rosary back, but they generously agreed to let me have it - a decision made even more special by the fact that they are my godparents.
I don't think I will be ready to part with it by the time my daughter has her first holy communion, but maybe someday I will be helping her wrap it around her own wedding bouquet. If I do, I know my grandma will be there with us, too.
Beautiful Story
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