Are there rosaries in your wreckage?

Celebrating even the oddest anniversaries

Last year, my husband was coming home early for the July 4th weekend. While stopped at a stop sign, he was struck from behind by a much larger SUV. Witnesses said the other driver was driving recklessly and accelerating. The last thing my husband remembered was looking in his rearview when he heard an engine revving behind him.

The jolt was so severe that my husband’s car was flipped around, sending off his airbag. His car was totaled. The driver side was so smashed my husband was only able to exit the car through the passenger side. Thankfully, he got out and walked away, dazed, bruised, cut up a bit, but largely uninjured. He was taken to the ER and after several hours of being poked, prodded, x-rayed and examined, we were sent home with muscle relaxers and ice packs.

July 4 it poured all day and we spent the day recovering and tending to wounds. Then came July 5.

We were hoping for a quiet day to rest. My husband thought a walk might do his aches and pains some good, so he took off with our dogs for their morning constitutional. Not much later, I looked outside to see the police on our street, full armor, guns drawn pointing at a nearby house. The man who lives there has a history of domestic assault, robbery, drug use. The worst part: he has young children.

My phone rang. The police informed me I needed to grab my purse and get out of the house. We live on a dead-end street, so I could not drive away, the street was shut down. By then dozens of cop cars were swarming, including SWAT who escorted me and some neighbors through another neighbor’s backyard as we fled on foot. I joined my husband and the puppies who’d been stopped by the police at the top of our street and thus began our exile.

We first walked to a local cemetery and said a rosary for the family, praying that no one would be injured. After a few hours we walked back toward our house only to hear more sirens followed by, “We have a warrant for your arrest, come out with your hands up!” This went on for hours to no avail.

We walked to a local grocery store, had something to eat, and watered the puppies. After another hour or so, we got a taxi to the rectory for our parish. Our priest has dogs and we didn’t think he’d mind letting us hang out a while. But he wasn’t home, so we took the taxi to a local hotel. All this in the rain and while I’m still recovering from chemo and my husband from his car accident.

Not too much later, the police stormed in with teargas and arrested the man. No one was injured. After several more hours of waiting, jogging over to our adoration chapel, and taxiing about town trying to think where we could spend the night with dogs if need be—they still hadn’t cleared the home for any bombs or booby-traps—we were finally given the all clear to return home.

The next day we found out where my husband’s car had been towed and went to retrieve any personal belongings. And this, I’ll never forget. We were literally pulling rosaries out of the wreckage. Seeing his car, it was clear that my husband had been cocooned from serious injury. It was sobering. At one point we stopped and prayed over the car with gratitude. It could have been so much worse. Cars, unlike lives, are easily replaced.

It took almost a full year to repair the tear-gassed house to make it livable again, but the family eventually returned home, sadly without their dad, but happily with peace.

Life can explode in dramatic and deadly ways. Storms, violence, recklessness can overtake us in a moment. But somehow, I think all those million aves we had in the tank protected us. It’s a simple prayer, the favorite of saints like Pope Saint John Paul II, and a truly deadly weapon. I give thanks for the million ways the Blessed Mother intercedes for our protection and provision.

Whatever may befall you, make sure Mary’s in your wreckage.

Blessed Mother, wrap us in your mantle. We ask that you remember those who have no one to pray for them, those suffering the aftermath of floods, war, and violence, especially the most vulnerable. Amen.

Liz Kelly is a jazz singer who met Jesus in late-night adoration. She is the community leader for women’s formation at the Word on Fire Institute and the author of more than a dozen award-winning books, including Jesus Approaches, Love Like a Saint, and A Thrill of Hope. Her take home retreat for Jesus Approaches has been called “a spa for the soul.” She holds advanced degrees in creative writing and Catholic studies. She is trained as a spiritual director, leading retreats and speaking around the world with a particular focus on helping women to flourish in their faith. Visit her website at LizK.org or follow her on Instagram at LizKToday.