Stolen!

It was just a few years ago. The very first rosary I've ever had. It was quite beautiful. It was missing a chain link when I first got it. It had a pendant of St. Michael the Archangel. I remember it had gotten me through some tough times. Once, in a hospital bed, a nurse saw and said to me, "Oh, you pray the rosary too!" It had connected me to numerous people. I started praying the rosary when I was led into the Anglican faith. I still pray the rosary. Even though I'm Eastern rite, I believe the rosary is meant for the entire church. I was given a one decade rosary as a baptismal gift.

So in 2017 we first visited Washington, D.C. Well most of us in my family first visited. Some of us had been there previously. Okay, about half of us, but you get the point. We visited Washington, D.C. in 2017. The belly of the beast. My now brother-in-law was working as an intern with the CIA. It was our last day there. We packed our bags and left the rental house and decided to eat something before catching our flight. He was the chauffer since he had already been spending much of his time in D.C. as a result of his internship. But the Arizona license plate made us easy-pickings regardless. Not to mention the myriad of luggage and bags.

I had my rosary in a backpack that was also lulling around a few books, tourist papers, an iPod, and not much else. I remember the horrifying moment when we got back to the car. The windows were shattered. There was glass all over the floor of his nice car. My parents lost nothing. But my sister, now borther-in-law, and I lost our backpacks. The rosary was gone! I couldn't believe it. How? The one that had been with me when I first came to Christianity. It was gone! Out of my life! Stolen! I broke down. I kept describing the rosary over and over to the officer investigating the scene. I remember the janitor of the GWU School of Law campus who wanted to make certain my now brother-in-law remembered her so the CIA wouldn't come after her. She was funny. But the rosary was gone. I didn't want to talk about it. I hated when my dad kept saying, "so sorry". As if that helped. It didn't.

Then there was the flight home. For some reason, the flight attendant paid much attention to me. I don't know if it was just the overwhelming shock but it really felt the most memorable. As if the flight attendant was somehow placed on board this airplane to watch out after me. I've never been treated that nicely by a flight attendant. There was a disabled person on board who needed extra care to get off the plane after it landed. The flight attendant turned to me to wait while the disabled person was helped off. She mentioned something about she knew that I would be willing to wait or help or something like that. She wasn't wrong. It almost seemed as if we had become close friends despite knowing each other for only mere hours. I cannot remember enough. I can only remember the emotion because it was just a mixed bag of emotions at this time.

Then, in the airport, I broke down. I had lost something exceedingly special and no amount of consolation could help. I remember a woman asking why I was so upset and distraught in the airport and my parents attempting to explain and then my dad said, "Dude! They found your rosary!" I looked coldly at him, as if to say, you'd better be right. Because I knew such a claim was nonsense at this point. Or was it?

At home, I just sulked into bed. My younger sister slept in the room next to me. I was barely waking the next day. I heard her talking on the phone. I was trying to make out what the conversation was about. She peaked her head into my bedroom. She said to me, "Daniel! They found your backpack. And there was a gray rosary in it. Your rosary was gray, right?" "Well, I think it more a purple shade but I can understand why someone would think it a gray rosary. Did it have the St. Michael pendant?" "They didn't say that but there were four books and an iPod." "That sounds like my backpack!" It had been found! What was once lost was now found! Amazing!

I kept praying with that rosary for the next few years to come. I am normally quite territorial with my rosaries but for some reason I wanted the Crazy Church Lady to hold onto it. Before the services closed to the public, I started letting her hold onto it during vespers, complines, pre-sanctified liturgies, etc. She said that she feared she would forget to give it back if she did that. I told her not to worry, all that is mine is yours. Finally, I gave it to her as a Mother's Day gift. A week later. The Crazy Church Lady asked if I was sure, and I said yes. She told me to let her know if I ever wanted it back. I want it with her though.