A Mary Moment Monday post
I was just beginning my study and discovery of John Paul II’s Theology of the Body when Rascal Flatts released their hit song “Bless the Broken Road.” The sister-in-law who lent me the CD said that the song made her think of my husband (her brother) and me.
When I listened to it, over and over and over, I was overcome. Yes, I thought of Bob, but, more than anything, I thought of my journey — ongoing as it was and is — to the Catholic Church. I thought of the mistakes I had made, of the many things I regretted, and of how I found not judgment, not condemnation, not punishment, but a warm embrace, a loving kiss, a prodigal’s welcome.
During the Good News About Sex and Marriage study group I was leading at the time, I played the song after our opening prayer. Somehow, I kept myself from sobbing as I explained how it encapsulated my own journey home to Catholicism.
Yesterday, driving to a horsey day of fun with my family, “Bless the Broken Road” came on the radio. I started belting it out and had to stop. Once again, I was overcome. That man beside me, he was the result of the broken road of my life. Those kids in the back seat and the one in my belly, they were the blessing of the broken road I’d traveled.
I live with the broken road that’s behind me, but I’ve come to see that God blesses anything you let Him bless. Saying Yes to God, at whatever point in my day, while looking to Mary for help, never lets me down. It’s usually not easy, but it always takes me past the mundane and into the eternal.
I fight saying Yes; I need the reminders that the broken road is behind me, that pain is part of life, that God loves me, all the same.
One of my favorite songs. Of course, hardly a confession after declaring my love of George Strait, but Rascal Flatts speaks to me, and “Broken Road”? Yeah. I so get it.