The Rosary in the Windshield

Relaxing on the couch after a long afternoon of painting, I looked up to see my toddler crouched over something, looking intently. Not having my glasses on, I had a hunch it was a frog or a toad. What it was doing in my living room is anyone’s guess. “Girls!” I called. My nine-year-old with the heart of a lion came to the rescue, catching the amphibian and letting it out the back door.

I was not sure whether the baby had touched it, but I figured she was due for a bath anyway. Lately she has not been liking the bathtub, and stands in it screaming until the unpleasantries are done with. Over her screaming, I heard the telephone ring. The answering machine picked up.

“Hello, you have reached the Miller residence. Please leave a message and have a nice day.”

I never say I will call you back or anything like that. I don’t say I’m sorry I missed your call. Many of the times I am not sorry I missed the call (as in telemarketers, usually) and have no intention of calling back. But I do hope you have a nice day, no matter who you are.

“Liz, are you there? If you’re there could you please pick up?”

It was my husband. I yelled to the girls to get the phone. They were supposed to be in the kitchen making lunches, but they were playing upstairs and were unable to get to the telephone on time.

From his tone, I knew it had something to do with the car. Recently his car passed the 300,000 mile mark and expired. He bought me another mini-van and took mine for work purposes. As soon as he took possession of it, the engine light came on. “Figures,” he had said.

I quickly rinsed off the baby, dried her off, dressed her, and called him back.

“I just got into a car accident,” he said.

Kevin is an excellent driver, but there is no accounting for people who will drive through red lights and stop signs in the areas he has to drive through for business on a daily basis. He has had more than his share of such episodes, and this was one of them.

“Are you all right?” I asked.

“Yeah, just aggravated,” he answered.

He was not too far from home, and soon everyone was able to kiss him hello before heading off to bed. We all inspected the dent where he had been t-boned, on the passenger side.

I thanked the Lord he was able to drive away from this one, and wondered how much the rosary had to do with it. The first thing I always put in a new car is a rosary, which I hang from the rear view mirror, wrapping it around so it is not too much of an obstruction.

I recalled a small but significant detail that I had left out of the story of my own car accident. I told of how, parked in the post office parking lot, I looked up and saw a white minivan FLYING directly at my windshield. I ducked and instinctively reached for the baby, who was in the rear carseat. I thought we were done for. For some unaccountable reason, it suddenly veered in mid-air, like a curve ball, and hit the left side of my car rather than the windshield. I think that was the protection of the rosary.

A quick google search has shown me that there is actually such thing as an automobile rosary, which you affix to your steering wheel so you can contemplate the mysteries as you drive. Hmmm, I don’t know about that; there are enough mysteries driving other cars to look out for. We are to “pray always”, but there is a certain kind of praying that allows one to be retain full attention on the road, and I do not think the rosary is that type of prayer. I did find this Blessing of an Automobile on www.catholic.org

Blessing of an Automobile

V. Our help is in the name of the Lord.
R. Who has made heaven and earth.
V. The Lord be with you.
R. And with your spirit.

Let us pray.Lend a willing ear, Lord God, to our prayers, and bless this vehicle with Your holy right hand. Direct Your holy angels to accompany it, that they may free those who ride in it from all dangers, and always guard them. And just as by Your deacon Philip You gave faith and grace to the man of Ethiopia as he sat in his chariot reading the Sacred Word, so, point out to Your servants the way of salvation. Grant that, aided by Your grace, and with their hearts set on good works, they may, after all the joys and sorrows of this journey through life, merit to receive eternal joys, through Christ our Lord.

R. Amen.(And it is sprinkled with holy water.)

The Miller Family's Angels

My baby talks to angels. She chatters with them, laughs at them, and plays with them. As she turns one this week, I hope she will continue to interact with angels well into her second year. I like to think that all babies are capable of perceiving spiritual beings. I never noticed this phenomenon in my first three children.

She truly is a magical child, with deep, soulful eyes. She looks at paintings so intently that you half believe the pictures will come to life and she could pop into them, as in C.S. Lewis’ “The Voyage of the Dawn Treader”.

It may be that I myself had not been spiritual enough to see what was going on. If any of the first three had seen angels, I was never aware of it. I never had been “into” angels until the few years leading up to my fourth child’s conception. My husband and I decided to purchase a print for our bedroom. He was drawn to the cupid portion of Michelangelo’s Sistine Chapel. He said the cupids reminded him of our children. Inexplicably, friends and family then started giving us angels as gifts.

I finally realized that these gifts of angels must have some significance for me. I had been really scared about having this baby. I had gestational diabetes with the third pregnancy, resulting in an almost-ten-pounder. For this reason along, the doctors had my file red-flagged from the beginning.

I voraciously read all I could about diabetes and pregnancy. I exercised and kept to a diet high in fiber, magnesium, and complex carbs, and low in refined sugars, baked goods, and processed foods. The early sugar tests came back and I was feeling really proud of myself. Then a revised reading came back on my first sonogram.

Over the telephone, the nurse practitioner told me they had found a placenta previa. Not knowing what this was, I immediately went to my encyclopedia, then to the internet. I found that there were three types: marginal, partial, and complete. Complete was the worst, with the placenta completely covering the cervix, making a normal delivery impossible. Partial stood for the placenta partially covered the cervix, leading to a “wait and see” approach with the doctors. Marginal meant the placenta was near to, but not touching, the cervix. The complete and partial could cause bleeding and subsequent bedrest and most likely a caesarean.

I would not know what type I had until my next appointment; but I assumed the worst. I thought I was going to die of hemorrhage. I am not kidding. I purchased a life insurance policy for myself. I made all preparations for the children to be placed in a good school the following year (I had been homeschooling up to this point). I organized my paperwork. I reestablished some broken family relationships.

My previa was marginal, and the “wait and see” approach continued throughout the entire pregnancy. Gestational diabetes never did show up. Each sonogram looked a little better, with the placenta gradually migrating toward the top of the womb. Finally, a week before the birth, the doctor said, “Everything looks great. No caesarian for you.”

It was the easiest birth of them all. I wish I could say she was my easiest child. This one made sure she got her share of the attention! It wound up for the best that the children were in school in the fall. If my eyes weren’t on her, my arms around her, my complete focus on her, she would holler for me.

She would nurse several times per night. I got used to walking around in the dark. When I brought her to my bed, I could see her grasping at things in the air. When she started to babble, she would talk to the mid-air objects. With my lack of sleep, maybe I was more given to feeling the presence of the “other” myself. But I felt the presence of angels.

In March of this year, we were in a freak car accident. I had just parked at the post office, in a parking lot spot adjacent to the street. I was about to unbuckle my seatbelt, when I saw a white minivan jump the sidewalk and FLY through the air off the main road directly toward the windshield of my minivan. I ducked in the direction of the baby, who was in the seat behind the front passenger’s seat. I braced myself and got ready to meet my Maker.

Like a curveball, the white minivan magically curved so that it hit the rear driver’s side. I felt my vehicle lift up, then was brought to rest against another parked car to my right. The baby’s car seat slammed against the side of the vehicle as the car came down. She screamed a scared cry. I was able to get out, with the baby, through the driver’s side window.

All I could think of was the baby, the baby, I hope she’s alright. Not even thinking about myself, I got into the ambulance with her. At the hospital and later the pediatrician, she was declared to be fine. I suffered muscle injuries that had to be treated with physical therapy for several months, but thankfully I was able to walk away from that accident.

If anything had been different – if I had unbuckled my seatbelt, gotten out of the car, or had another passenger in the car – we would not have fared well. I do believe angels guided that other vehicle to hit mine in exactly the location that would enable us all to escape alive.

Since then I have been even more aware of the baby’s relationship with her angels. She babbles in the middle of the night, in the darkness, with the cadence of English conversation. It is pure enjoyment for her.

I wonder if a baby’s ability to see angels comes from their sense of unity with Creation. With the discovery of one’s “self” as separate from “other”, I wonder if something gained results in something lost. When she finally knows herself as “I” will she stop seeing the angels?

Why does Mary typically appear to children? She herself must have been “like a child” – Joseph as well – as the angels appeared in full form to them. Jacob fought with an angel in a dream. The disciples walked with angels who appeared as men.

I do think some people are chosen to see the divine. Only if they can retain that special quality of a child will they keep that gift.

“…Out of the mouths of infants and nurslings you have brought forth Praise..” Matt. 21:16

“At that time the disciples approached Jesus and said, ‘Who is the greatest in the kingdom of heaven?’ He called a child over, placed it in their midst, and said, ‘Amen, I say to you, unless you turn and become like children, you will not enter the kindgdom of heaven. Whoever humbles himself like this child is the greatest in the kingdom of heaven. And whoever receives one child such as this in my name receives me.’”
Matthew 18:1-5

Painting above left:
ALBANI, Francesco. Holy Family1630-35

Oil on canvas, 57 x 43 cm

Galleria Palatina (Palazzo Pitti), Florence