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Hand crafted rosaries. Shared Stories. A Journey of Faith.
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Our Newsletter is here to share more about our mission, faith and the story behind what we do and what we make. We hope you join us each week to learn more about how this mission impacts our lives and those we serve.
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Moments of Grace
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How grief is like a ball in a box.
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Rosary Reflection
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This week we take a look at our Amazonite Rosary.
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A Thought to Carry with You
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Something to ponder or journal on
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A Prayer for Your Week
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Heavenly Father, through the dedication of the Lateran Basilica, draw us closer into unity with Your universal Church. Through the courage of Pope St. Leo the Great, grant us fortitude and clarity of mind. Through the charity of St. Martin of Tours, open our hearts to see Your Son in the poor and freezing. And through the zeal of St. Frances Xavier Cabrini, help us to welcome and serve the vulnerable in our communities. We ask this through Christ our Lord. Amen.
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Saints of the Week
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A short reflection on the Saints of this week.
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- Monday - Feast of the Dedication of the Lateran Basilica
- Tuesday - Pope St. Leo the Great
- Wednesday - St. Martin of Tours
- Friday - St. Frances Xavier Cabrini (Mother Cabrini)
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Along the Way
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The last time I felt grief like this was in 1984 when I lost my grandmother Albertine. She is the one I credit my rosary-making skills to and I loved her very much. I was only 15 at the time but it changed my life. My grandfather did not handle the grief very well and chose to deal with it by getting rid of all her things and selling their home. What used to be the center of our family gatherings was gone and the closeness that I felt my whole life seemed to slip away with the passing of my grandmother. I didn't realize until she was gone that she was the glue holding it all together. I know now that most good women are that glue for their families. I was only blessed with 15 years with my grandmother and I only have the fondest memories of her. I knew Father Martin for 40 years. I think that is why this loss hurts even more than losing my grandmother.
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A while ago I had read about how grief is like a ball moving around in a box. Inside that box is a pain button and whenever the ball hits that button the pain of losing that person hits you. At first the ball is so huge that it hits that button constantly and it feels like the pain will never end. But over time the grief can be diminished by other things in life and the number of times it hits that pain button decreases but the funny thing is that the pain of losing that person is never diminished.
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I can say that I have been experiencing just that in these past two weeks. Sometimes I am able to recall things he said to me and be grateful for the time I had with him other times I am reminded of what I have lost and the pain hits hard. We live close to St. Basils so I drive past there often. The first time I had to drive there was very painful. I know each time I drive there will not be as painful but I also know that there will be times when it is and that's ok too.
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As I said, it was a while ago that I had read about the ball in the box analogy of grief but this is the first time I am experiencing it and can say that it is an accurate way of describing what I am feeling right now.
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My moment of grace this week was from the Sunday Mass reading from the Letter of Saint Paul to the Thessalonians,
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"We do not want you to be unaware, brothers and sisters,
about those who have fallen asleep,
so that you may not grieve like the rest, who have no hope.
For if we believe that Jesus died and rose,
so too will God, through Jesus,
bring with him those who have fallen asleep. "
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I gain solace in knowing that death is not the end and that Father Martin is in peace and is able to intercede for us in ways that were never possible before. We are already seeing some miracles that we are sure that we can attribute to him. So I know this grief will continue to be diminished by the many blessings that will be showered upon us because of him. I think Our Lord knew what I needed to hear this Sunday as He always does.
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The Weekly Saint | Reflections for November 9 – November 15, 2026
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Welcome to this week's edition of The Weekly Saint. As we move further into November—the month dedicated to praying for the Holy Souls in Purgatory—our Church calendar brings us a powerful collection of witnesses.These holy lives remind us that Christ calls us to build up His Church, to defend the truth with gentle authority,to show merciful charity to our neighbors, and to welcome the vulnerable with open arms.
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Here are the feast days and saints guiding our reflections for this week
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Monday, November 9: Feast of the Dedication of the Lateran Basilica
The Mother and Head of All Churches
We open our week with a unique feast day that celebrates not a single saint, but the sacred home of the Church itself. While many assume St. Peter’s Basilica is the Pope's primary church, the Cathedral of Saint John Lateran in Rome is actually the official ecclesiastical seat of the Bishop of Rome. Inscribed on its facade are the words Omnium urbis et orbis ecclesiarum mater et caput ("Mother and Head of all churches in the city and the world").
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Dedicated by Pope St. Sylvester in 324 AD after Emperor Constantine granted religious freedom to Christians,this basilica stands as a visible symbol of unity across the universal Church.
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- Takeaway for the week: We are living stones of the Church. Take a moment today to offer a prayer of gratitude for your local parish home, where you receive the sacraments and gather with fellow believers.
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Tuesday, November 10: Pope St. Leo the Great (c. 400–461)
Intellectual Clarity and Courageous Leadership
On Tuesday, the Church honors one of only two popes in history given the title "the Great" (along with St.Gregory the Great). Leo guided the Church through an era of immense political instability as the Western Roman Empire collapsed.
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His famous theological work, the Tome of Leo, clearly defined the dual natures of Christ (fully human and fully divine), shaping the landmark decrees of the Council of Chalcedon. When Attila the Hun marched toward Rome in 452 AD, Leo rode out to meet the warrior face-to-face, persuading him to spare the city.
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- Patronage: Popes, confessors, and the city of Rome.
- Takeaway for the week: When facing cultural pressure or difficult conflicts in your own life, ask St. Leo for the grace to speak the truth with quiet, unshakeable confidence.
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Wednesday, November 11: St. Martin of Tours (c. 316–397)
The Mantle of Charity
On Wednesday—a day that also coincides with Veterans Day in the United States—we celebrate a noble Roman soldier who became one of the most beloved bishops of early Christendom.
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While stationed as a young soldier in Gaul (modern France), Martin encountered a freezing beggar outside the gates of Amiens. Having nothing else to give, Martin drew his sword, cut his heavy military cloak in half, and gave half to the poor man. That night, Jesus appeared to Martin in a dream wearing the severed mantle,saying, "Martin, who is still but a catechumen, has clothed Me with this garment." Martin soon laid down his weapons, was baptized, and eventually served as the Bishop of Tours.
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- Patronage: Soldiers, veterans, beggars, weavers, and France.
- Takeaway for the week: Look for an opportunity this week to share your warmth—whether through donating warm clothing, supporting a veteran, or offering a kind gesture to someone in need.
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Friday, November 13: St. Frances Xavier Cabrini (Mother Cabrini) (1850–1917)
Practical Love for the Immigrant and Vulnerable
On Friday, we celebrate the first naturalized United States citizen to be canonized a saint. Born in Italy,Francesca Cabrini founded the Missionary Sisters of the Sacred Heart of Jesus, desiring to go as a missionary to China. However, Pope Leo XIII instructed her: "Not to the East, but to the West."
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Arriving in New York City in 1889, Mother Cabrini and her sisters faced daunting poverty and xenophobia.Undeterred, she established 67 institutions—including orphanages, schools, and modern hospitals—across the United States, South America, and Europe, serving European immigrants and the destitute with extraordinary administrative skill and deep trust in God.
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- Patronage: Immigrants, hospital administrators, and orphans.
- Takeaway for the week: Mother Cabrini proved that practical administrative work can be a profound path to holiness. Approach your daily tasks and organization this week as an offering of love.
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A Prayer for Your Week
Heavenly Father, through the dedication of the Lateran Basilica, draw us closer into unity with Your universal Church. Through the courage of Pope St. Leo the Great, grant us fortitude and clarity of mind. Through the charity of St. Martin of Tours, open our hearts to see Your Son in the poor and freezing. And through the zeal of St. Frances Xavier Cabrini, help us to welcome and serve the vulnerable in our communities. We ask this through Christ our Lord. Amen.
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Have a blessed and beautiful week of prayer!
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Let's Take A Look At Our Amazonite Rosary
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Early on we focused on high-quality but affordable options when sourcing beads for our rosaries. Recently we figured that some might appreciate some higher-priced options and we started looking into semi-precious gemstone beads. There are so many varieties of semi-precious gemstones so it was a little hard to choose which ones to use for our rosaries. The first one we landed on were these amazonite beads. What we loved most about them is that each one is unique yet they all blend perfectly together.
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This unique rosary features the Amazonite beads, strung on a sturdy, yet elegant, stainless steel wire. The cool, smooth texture of the Amazonite stones, with their soft green and turquoise hues, invites a sense of tranquility and peace during prayer.
This rosary is not only visually stunning but also built to last. The stainless steel wire is resistant to tarnishing and wear, ensuring this rosary is virtually unbreakable.
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Grief is a curious thing. Over the years, I have experienced it in so many different ways following the loss of my parents, grandparents, family members, friends, and people I have known and loved who have touched my life in ways both great and small.
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When birthdays, anniversaries, holidays, or even the most ordinary days come around, I am reminded that grief and loss never truly go away. No matter how many years have passed, the absence remains.
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Sometimes grief comes like the rising tide of the ocean, strong and fierce, with waves crashing against me, knocking me about and announcing their presence with such force that the loss feels as fresh as yesterday.
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Other times, there is no announcement at all. The waves come gently, softly lapping at the shore, as memories and longing swirl around me like the delicate, billowy foam left behind before the water retreats to the sea.
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Yet through it all, one thing remains constant: love, gratitude, and thanksgiving for the extraordinary blessing of having had these people in my life.
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This year, however, feels different.
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I was sharing with a dear friend recently that, with the passing of my beloved spiritual father, Father Martin, who so recently fell asleep in the Lord, and the approaching 29th anniversary of my mother's passing on November 9, my grief feels less like a raging sea and more like a tsunami.
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And yet, even as I feel the tremendous weight of their absence, I have never felt more firmly rooted in my faith, more comforted, or more at peace than I do today. It is a peace I find difficult to explain, except to say that it comes from knowing in the very depths of my heart that death does not have the final word.
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This weekend brought several moments that seemed to affirm that hope.
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On Friday morning, I received a long-awaited telephone call bringing a welcome resolution to a matter that had weighed heavily on my heart for months. It was also what would have been Father Martin's 73rd birthday. I couldn't help but receive that news as a little miracle, a tender wink from God, and perhaps a great big hug from heaven through the intercession of my beloved Abouna.
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On Saturday morning, I awoke to a beautiful hibiscus blossom. Those flowers have long felt like little hugs from my mommy in heaven. And on Sunday, several more blossoms greeted me from both of my hibiscus trees, just as the anniversary of her passing drew near.
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Then came another beautiful moment at Sunday Mass.
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During the Prayers of the Faithful, our beloved Father Martin was remembered by name. And in the second reading, I heard Saint Paul's words to the Thessalonians about those who have fallen asleep in the Lord and the hope we have through Jesus Christ.
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I had been speaking about grief and hope only the day before, and there, at Mass, were words that seemed to speak directly to my heart.
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We grieve, but we do not grieve without hope.
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Throughout this weekend, my thoughts have returned again and again to the final hours of my mother's life.
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I remember sitting beside her the night before she died, holding her hand, gently stroking her brow, and telling her over and over how very much I loved her as she drifted toward the final hours of her earthly journey.
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My sister Anna and I remained beside her. In the wee hours of the following morning, we said our last goodbye on this side of heaven as our beautiful mother drew her final breath.
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I was there when she left this world, just as she had been there when I entered it.
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What an extraordinary gift and grace that was.
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And now, twenty-nine years later, although the tsunami of grief rises within me as I remember her, I find that I am no longer tossed about by its waves.
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I stand firmly upon the foundation of my faith, trusting in the promise of Jesus Christ and holding fast to the hope that one day I will see my mother, my father, and all those I have loved again.
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And above all, I am overwhelmed with love, gratitude, and thanksgiving for the gift of my mother, Maria.
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For the gift of a remarkable woman whose strength, courage, faith, forgiveness, and grace have inspired me throughout my life.
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My mother was a 36-year-old wife and mother when she came from Italy to the United States with my father, my brother, and my two sisters.
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On the day she arrived in New York, she met her own father for the very first time.
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My grandfather had left Italy for America when my mother was only three months old, leaving behind my grandmother, Nonna Rosina, and their infant daughter. In the years that followed, my mother and grandmother endured tremendous hardship and abuse.
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Imagine meeting your father for the first time at the age of thirty-six!
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And yet, rather than allowing the hardships of her past to define her, my mother embraced the opportunity to build a new life.
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For the gift of her perseverance, integrity, fortitude, and grace.
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When Mommy arrived in America, she did not speak English. Apart from my Nonna Rosina, who had preceded her here by only a few months, she knew no one.
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She learned the language, made friends, worked in the mills to help support our family, and embraced the challenges and opportunities of her new home.
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She built a loving relationship with the father she had never known. She cared for my grandparents, who first lived next door to us and later came to live in our family home until their deaths.
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Alongside my father, she raised her children in a loving home, teaching us through their example and giving each of us opportunities, an education, and a life they themselves had never known.
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For the gift of witnessing her faith, sacrifice, bravery, and courage.
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For as long as I can remember, my mother suffered from significant health problems, some rooted in the hardships of her early life in Italy.
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She underwent numerous total hip replacement surgeries on both hips, complicated by fragile bones and other longstanding medical conditions.
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She endured years of physical pain, limitations, and suffering, much of it quietly and without complaint.
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Yet she never lost her sense of humor, her beautiful smile, or her joyful spirit.
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She did not allow her circumstances to define her.
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Instead, she chose gratitude for what she had rather than sorrow over what she lacked.
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Her faith was not simply something she spoke about. It was something she lived, every single day.
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For the gift of her warm, generous, loving, and welcoming heart.
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Our home was always open to family and friends. It was a gathering place filled with conversation, laughter, hospitality, and love.
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My mother had a wonderful sense of humor, and her smile seemed to come straight from her heart.
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She accepted people with kindness and compassion. She was hardworking, loyal, patient, and extraordinarily generous.
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She loved unconditionally.
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And in all things, she placed the welfare of her children and family before her own, not with resentment or bitterness, but with a joyful and giving spirit.
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For the gift of being her youngest child.
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I was her unexpected surprise, born when she was forty years old, at a time when my brother and sisters were already teenagers or young adults, beginning lives and families of their own.
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That unexpected blessing allowed me, perhaps a little selfishly, to have Mommy and Daddy almost entirely to myself for so many wonderful years growing up.
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What precious memories those years gave me.
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For the gift of life itself.
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For the mother who held me when I drew my first breath.
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For the extraordinary grace of being able to hold her hand when she drew her last.
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For the privilege of loving her, learning from her, laughing with her, caring for her, and walking beside her through the joys and sorrows of life.
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And for the faith that allows me to entrust her lovingly into the arms of Jesus.
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Twenty-nine years have passed, and I still miss her.
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There will always be birthdays, anniversaries, holidays, and unexpected moments when the longing rises again.
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There will always be waves.
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But there will also always be a heart filled with untold joy in the treasured memories and enduring legacy of the incredible woman I was blessed to call Mommy.
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Her love lives on in me, in my siblings, in our children and families, and in all the lives she touched.
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The bond of love we share with another is not erased by death. It remains part of who we are, reaching beyond the boundaries of time and space.
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And while I cannot hold her hand today, I can hold fast to the faith she helped plant within me.
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I believe she is at peace with Daddy and with all those we love who have fallen asleep in the Lord.
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I believe that through the death and Resurrection of Jesus Christ, we have been given the promise of eternal life.
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And I believe that one day, by God's grace, we shall be reunited.
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So yes, the tsunami of grief may rise, and the waves may crash around my feet.
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But I am standing upon something stronger than the waves.
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I am standing upon faith.
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And I am filled with thanksgiving for the gift of my mother, Maria.
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As Saint Paul reminds us:
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“Therefore, comfort one another with these words.” — 1 Thessalonians 4:18
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And so, even in the midst of grief, I continue along the way, trusting in God's promises, grateful for every precious life that has touched my own, and holding close the joyful hope that one day we shall all be together again in the presence of our Lord.
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I grieve. But I grieve in hope.
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“We do not want you to be unaware, brothers, about those who have fallen asleep, so that you may not grieve like the rest, who have no hope. For if we believe that Jesus died and rose, so too will God, through Jesus, bring with him those who have fallen asleep. Indeed, we tell you this, on the word of the Lord, that we who are alive, who are left until the coming of the Lord, will surely not precede those who have fallen asleep. For the Lord himself, with a word of command, with the voice of an archangel and with the trumpet of God, will come down from heaven, and the dead in Christ will rise first. Then we who are alive, who are left, will be caught up together with them in the clouds to meet the Lord in the air. Thus, we shall always be with the Lord. Therefore, console one another with these words.”
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A Thought to Carry with You
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“How can we allow the hope of Christ's Resurrection to bring us peace, even when our hearts are aching with the loss of someone we love?”
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Until Next Week
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Wherever this newsletter finds you today, whether your heart is full of joy or carrying a burden known only to you, know that you are remembered in our prayers. May the Sacred Heart of Jesus fill you with His peace, the Immaculate Heart of Mary wrap you in her loving mantle, and the humble and chaste Heart of St. Joseph guide and protect you this week. Until we meet again, may God bless you and those you love.
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Links for this week's Newsletter
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