Sunday, February 19, 2006
Infant of Prague
When I was just a small child, my mothers friends Mary and Ralph went to Rome and came back with a statue of the Infant of Prague for my sister, it had been blessed by the Pope.
My sister used to stand by their huge statue of the Infant in their dinning room and gaze up at it. Never saying a word. They remembered that when they went to Rome and bought her one of her own. Smaller than theirs. My sister placed her statue on her dresser in our room. I remember laying in bed and looking for what seemed like hours at that statue of my sisters. It was so beautiful to me. We were not Catholic but secretly I always wished I was. Where I grew up, 5 miles north of Boston, 99% of the population is catholic I think. Italian or Irish Catholics. When all my little friends were making their first communions I was so jealous of their pretty white dresses and veils. I remember asking my mother to buy me a first communion dress. When she told me we didn't do that, I felt cheated.
As the years passed, my special affinity for the Infant of Prague remained constant. My sister knowing remembered my love of her Infant of Prague and gave me my own statue a couple years ago. The one in the picture.
I have always felt so close to the Infant of Prague. Around my neck is always a medal of the Infant that my best friend gave me. Never is my house without a candle with the Infant on it.
5 years ago a dear friend of mine showed me how to make Rosary beads and I have made many and several Infant of Prague chaplets.
Its never mattered to me that this type of adoration was not something non Catholics felt or particpated in. My age, combined with my rather ecclectic outlook gives me the freedom and security to do the things I feel close to without regard to it fitting in some nice slot. I love the Rosary, I love my Infant of Prague statue. Its a vital part of my Christian experience. Simple as that. And being that it is so special to me, I wanted to share it. As I walked by the lit candle this morning, it seemed so beautiful to me so of course I had to snap a picture.
Once again, I am not fitting into the stereotypical mold, but that is who I am.
It is a silent sort of morning, sitting next to the wood stove in my rocker, watching the birds outside my windo...