Mary Bea Sullivan

Rock Deck

A funny thing happened on the way to pick up a St. Joseph statue. I decided I didn’t want one–yet.  In some circles, it is customary to expedite the sale of your home by burying a statue of St. Joseph*.

While driving to the Ave Maria Grotto to buy a St. Joseph statue, I reminisced about the many beautiful experiences that have happened in our home.  Malcolm and I fell in love here; Brendan, Kiki, Malcolm, and I came together as a family; I wrote my first book in the loft, friends have found respite from busy lives, scary diagnoses, and the rigors of rearing children.  Truly, this is hallowed ground.

I haven’t always appreciated the blessings of this home. When we first moved here, I grieved the life and friends I had left behind in Chapel Hill.  As new friendships formed in Alabama, most were far away–I wished to be closer to the action.  Like everything, there is a light and dark side to this home–it is an enclave of natural beauty and solace and it is far from many of the people and places that are dear to me.

As I approached the Ave Maria Grotto, I remembered a passing comment my friend Caroline had made sometime back.  We were walking down to the “rock deck,” and Caroline marveled at the sandstone formations which created a cave-like feel to the area.  “Mary, this is a grotto to Mary.” She said.  I loved the idea, but had never brought it to fruition.

Remembering Caroline’s observation, I made a choice to buy a statue of Mary, instead of Joseph. When I arrived at the Ave Maria Grotto I was surprised to see a friend from church, Buster working at the gift store.  He greeted me in his warm, jovial fashion, then asked questions about what I was looking for.  Buster patiently showed me the many options available.  I appreciated how he understood the importance of the task–giving me enough space to wander, and gently guiding when appropriate.  I struggled to find the Mary that felt “just right.”  Most seemed too big, too blue, or too something.

Then I found a small, hand-carved statue of Mary holding Jesus. The simple lines, the way she lovingly gazed at the babe in her hands, the wood, all spoke to me.  I knew she was the one.  Buster beamed as he opened the case and handed the statue for me to hold.  The sales clerk gently wrapped her in protective bubble wrap while I picked out a rose-scented candle to accompany her.

I was excited to carry her to her new home and couldn’t wait to see how she looked in the “grotto.” Bringing this statue to our home seemed like a small gesture of giving back–for me to offer something to this sacred place that has given so much.

Taking this one step in the direction toward healing has been the catalyst for many blessings…I look forward to sharing them with you tomorrow.

Namaste

I’m interested in how you have experienced this paradox of “blessing and curse.”  Were you able to resolve it?  What happened?

*Note:  this link has helpful instructions for burying the St. Joseph statue.  Personally I am not hot on the prayer at the end and suggest making up your own which includes calling in the new owner and asking for protection and blessing for them as well–both during the process and after they move.

Tags: Ave Maria Grotto, Lake House, moving, Resentment, St. Joseph Statue, St. Mary