Come Saturday morning

Saturday morning is really special for me. I sleep in a little later but not so late that I miss the sunrise. My morning routine consists of prayer and meditation before engaging in what lies ahead as Christ’s disciple. Come Saturday morning, I truly get to bask in the glory of God more deeply.

First I brew a pot of coffee, then, weather permitting, which in Florida is at least 45 Saturdays a year, I pick up my rosary and take my round cushion to the outside front steps. Then it’s back inside to cut up an orange for the cardinals, “the red birds” as my friend, Gail, refers to them and I place them under an azalea bush along with some seed. I then sit down and pray the rosary. What happens before me on Saturday morning could only be described in God’s words but I will do my very best.

I would short-change God if I didn’t explain how the rosary puts me so in touch with the life of Jesus Christ, the Blessed Mother and the power and magnificence of what is to come when my last day on this earth arrives. The Joyful and Glorious Mysteries, fill me with happiness and awe. The Sorrowful Mysteries bring me great pain and confusion along with an understanding of the new covenant. And I waited for years for the Mysteries of Light, so they are mine.

In all of the Mysteries, I have certain ones that bring me to deeper reflection and extreme emotion, at times, mixed with quiet tears. The Visitation, gives me tremendous pride in being a woman and sister of Mary. The Descent of the Holy Spirit connects me to Mary and my brothers, not only in that reflective moment, but also in the knowledge I am not alone — ever. The Scourging at the Pillar, Crowning with Thorns and Crucifixion even now as I write, overcome me to where I can barely breathe and sadness grips every part of my mind and body. How could we? How in the world could we have done this?

In the Mysteries of Light I am very grateful for every summarized act and proclamation. The Baptism of Jesus, Wedding Feast at Cana, Proclamation of the Kingdom of God and then for some God-known reason, the fourth mystery, “The Transfiguration”, stops me in the moment and brings me to the top of that high mountain. I’m not so much paralyzed as present. No, not standing there with Peter, James and John. Not envisioning Jesus with His clothes brilliantly white in the company of Elijah and Moses. Not hearing God speak of His beloved Son. But present and connected and convinced of the need to listen and follow and be at peace in knowing what is, ever will be and is to come.

On Saturday morning as I sit outside and pray my rosary, the Cardinals chirp in thanksgiving for the morning meal of oranges and seed. With each decade, there is a strength that grows in my soul and an understanding of the love and generosity of all God has gifted to me. In this Saturday morning routine, like the sunset when I drive home in the early evening, the sky fills with an array of colors before the sun rises, as when it sets. It transfigures the sky from dark to light. There are varying sounds the birds make at this moment but few are visible until the sun hits a certain point and each species flits from branch to limb alive in God’s sunrise.

There is a time period of about five minutes when I can stare directly at the sun. As the sun begins to rise there is an aura behind it that manifests a scene of the Eucharist before me, bigger than life. The aura in back of the sun presents a host and in its three-dimensional appearance exhibits the power of my God and the strength received in the upper room the first time the Holy Spirit descended and every time thereafter, including this Saturday morning.

In this small pocket of time if I squint my eyes, the multicolored beams reach from the sun to me in one bright yellow hew that is larger than the colorful array of the multitude of radiant beams that surround this thicker beam. I stare at this magnificent morning miracle until my eyes must shut and I am able to experience, in a contemplative state, the vision of God’s light that now appears behind closed lids. He is with me always whether I am in the light, or in the darkness. I finish now with the Memorare — my rosary is complete. In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. I kiss my Jesus and thank God for the miracle of Saturday morning. Amen!
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