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The beautiful bracelets reminded me on {these bracelets} that my friend, Ellen's, mom makes. This all brought me back to a post I had written on my old blog, which I decided to share here.
My friend Rachel and I always come back to this story in conversations, and she shared it with our mothers during our annual winter break mother-daughter lunch over break.
{I know this is a break from the normal blogging I do, but I'm sick and this story is one of those that you always draw upon when you're home and sick in bed...}
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moms are always right.
(before i share the story, know that i’m not an intensely religious person in any means.) My friend, ellen, recently got hooked on pinterest. (yay!) i repinned this super-cool rosary bracelet that she had pinned, unknowing of the significant meaning to ellen. in the past couple of years i have become increasingly more interested in rosaries. they are beautiful, and i believe they all tell a story of the owner who purchased them. they remind me of family, they remind me of something that is always constant. i bought my first rosary when i was in the vatican city this summer, a gold-and-pearl one, and picked one up for my sister, Tara, who I thought could use the power of prayer.
Anyways, I had never seen a rosary bracelet before, but it made complete sense. you just repeated ten times, and you could always have it on you. not to mention they were beautiful! well, ellen’s mom makes them. I especially liked this one above. Maybe it was the mom aspect, or the fact that it was a rosary, but it reminded me of a story that frequently plays over in my head.
On the way to dance class one day, two fresh and sassy junior girls in high school were talking about what junior girls freak out about: college. they were telling the wise mother driving them that they were going to stick it to the man when they got to college and use their new-found freedom to not wake up early every sunday morning to go to church. Both girls had been raised fairly religious catholics, but as kids do when they are sixteen and think they know everything, had recently been debating their faith. the wise one said to them, “you know girls, if you get to college and you don’t want to go to church, then that is fine. however, i hope you do, and i know that mrs. c hopes you do. furthermore, you can talk a big game now, but when everything seems new and different and strange, you may find that church will be a comfortable place, because it is the one constant in your ever-changing lives.”
“THE wise one” was my friend’s mom, jane, and the daughter was rachel. i was the fresh and sassy friend.
we took what she said to heart, but didn’t think much of it. About a year later, during my senior year of high school, my grandmother passed away. then my grandfather in june, right before my graduation. and in a shocking turn of events, during my final exams of my first semester of college, my uncle was diagnosed with and passed away from cancer all in about a month’s time. i flew home early. rachel experienced similar situations. we both found ourselves with new boyfriends and friends, and we then both found ourselves broken hearted.
Rachel goes to school in california. i go to school in milwaukee. it’s hard when the people you need in times of trouble the most (your family and friends who have known you forever) are thousands of miles away in opposite directions. For being so far, we talk a lot. facebook. snail mail. phone calls. texts. blog shout outs. skype.
we laugh. we cry. we bitch. we console. we help each other process and move on. we try to support each other, however many miles away we may be, regardless of time zones.
After one such life event, i was on the phone with rach, who said, “you know what i have been doing? going to church.”
i could only laugh, and reply, “well you know jane always said we would…” The rest of the conversation probably included some part where we lament about how our mothers, it turned out, were right and probably a “don’t you hate it when that happens” comment from one of us…. it always happens, and we always hate that we were wrong when it was my turn to be in the broken hearts club, it coincided with the “welcome back to campus” mass, and i felt a sense of calm come over me as i attended. every time i’m at school and i’m in church (which isn’t as often as i should go) and i get the sense of “this is a good thing” i think of jane, in the car, on the way to dance.
sometimes, if i really have the gall, i admit this fact to my mom, who usually responds with, “mhmm see? jane and i told you two”
she’s right.
don’t you hate it when that happens?
(***we’re not depressing people. we actually spend an equal amount of time gossiping, laughing, telling inappropriate stories and jokes, eating too much unhealthy food, watching movies, listening to music, and driving aimlessly around town contemplating possible badass adventures… that almost always fall through- impromptu hamptons drive, last minute attempt at meeting friends to go clubbing in nyc, impromptu piercings…. to name a few- but those are stories for another day!)
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Anyways, I had never seen a rosary bracelet before, but it made complete sense. you just repeated ten times, and you could always have it on you. not to mention they were beautiful! well, ellen’s mom makes them. I especially liked this one above. Maybe it was the mom aspect, or the fact that it was a rosary, but it reminded me of a story that frequently plays over in my head.
On the way to dance class one day, two fresh and sassy junior girls in high school were talking about what junior girls freak out about: college. they were telling the wise mother driving them that they were going to stick it to the man when they got to college and use their new-found freedom to not wake up early every sunday morning to go to church. Both girls had been raised fairly religious catholics, but as kids do when they are sixteen and think they know everything, had recently been debating their faith. the wise one said to them, “you know girls, if you get to college and you don’t want to go to church, then that is fine. however, i hope you do, and i know that mrs. c hopes you do. furthermore, you can talk a big game now, but when everything seems new and different and strange, you may find that church will be a comfortable place, because it is the one constant in your ever-changing lives.”
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young wise |
we took what she said to heart, but didn’t think much of it. About a year later, during my senior year of high school, my grandmother passed away. then my grandfather in june, right before my graduation. and in a shocking turn of events, during my final exams of my first semester of college, my uncle was diagnosed with and passed away from cancer all in about a month’s time. i flew home early. rachel experienced similar situations. we both found ourselves with new boyfriends and friends, and we then both found ourselves broken hearted.
Rachel goes to school in california. i go to school in milwaukee. it’s hard when the people you need in times of trouble the most (your family and friends who have known you forever) are thousands of miles away in opposite directions. For being so far, we talk a lot. facebook. snail mail. phone calls. texts. blog shout outs. skype.
we laugh. we cry. we bitch. we console. we help each other process and move on. we try to support each other, however many miles away we may be, regardless of time zones.
After one such life event, i was on the phone with rach, who said, “you know what i have been doing? going to church.”
i could only laugh, and reply, “well you know jane always said we would…” The rest of the conversation probably included some part where we lament about how our mothers, it turned out, were right and probably a “don’t you hate it when that happens” comment from one of us…. it always happens, and we always hate that we were wrong when it was my turn to be in the broken hearts club, it coincided with the “welcome back to campus” mass, and i felt a sense of calm come over me as i attended. every time i’m at school and i’m in church (which isn’t as often as i should go) and i get the sense of “this is a good thing” i think of jane, in the car, on the way to dance.
sometimes, if i really have the gall, i admit this fact to my mom, who usually responds with, “mhmm see? jane and i told you two”
she’s right.
don’t you hate it when that happens?
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| older yet equally stubborn, fresh, and sassy friends. |
(***we’re not depressing people. we actually spend an equal amount of time gossiping, laughing, telling inappropriate stories and jokes, eating too much unhealthy food, watching movies, listening to music, and driving aimlessly around town contemplating possible badass adventures… that almost always fall through- impromptu hamptons drive, last minute attempt at meeting friends to go clubbing in nyc, impromptu piercings…. to name a few- but those are stories for another day!)
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Happy Tuesday!
xx
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