Christian – Prayers Over The Kitchen Sink

Things I Never Would Have Chosen

Help me write a Rosary of Stories!

This story first appeared on motherhoodthroughthemysteries.com

*Scroll to the bottom of the post for more information on sharing your story.

Motherhood has humbled me.

Not only in the body changes, the naked birthing, the being-covered-in-who-knows-what while putting everyone’s needs before my own, but in my expectations.

My motherhood journey started off on a dark and winding path: as a single teen mother trying my best to build a life for my daughter and I through a haze of heartbreak and post-traumatic stress.

With everything to lose and even more to prove, I dedicated myself to a stable path, studying and working in the medical field. I loved my job, worked well with the physicians, and enjoyed helping others. I wanted security, benefits, and all of the things necessary to provide. I didn’t realize it at the time, but choosing a career that required responsibility and projected professionalism was an attempt to build up others’ confidence in me.

A young mother has much to live up to.

Every move I made felt highly scrutinized. I was shunned by most of the moms at school and Saturday morning dance class and my friends just couldn’t relate. But I was blessed early on, meeting my incredible husband and soon after felt the Holy Spirit drawing me back to faith.

It took some time to get down the road, but once Jesus took the wheel, I knew we’d end up where God wanted us to go. We got engaged, got married, and had two babies in two years while raising my daughter. We all grew up together, grew in faith, and grew as a family.

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It was a beautiful time, but it held its challenges. The most difficult and enduring of these challenges involved my oldest daughter and negatively impacted her emotional well-being. For the first time in my motherhood journey, I was dealing with problems too big to kiss away. It was painful to watch my daughter suffer and not be able to fix it for her.

I bartered with God. We had come so far, finally on the straight and narrow path. Why would God allow this sweetest time to be shadowed by stress, worry, and pain? Why would He let our best-laid plans be overturned by psychological suffering and a worldwide pandemic?

This was my second chance!

I was following the path God brought me to. I wasn’t perfect but I was doing my best to live right. I understood the difficulties I had the first time around, but I was far removed from the sins of my past. I had cultivated a lifestyle I could only dream of as a full-time-working single mom. Staying home with my babies, serving my family and finding God amongst the pots and pans.

A cross had been placed upon my shoulders at a time when all I wanted to do was bask in my undeserved blessings. I learned that the crosses mothers carry for their children are the heaviest because they’re saturated in tears.

It was desperation that led me to adopt a regimen of prayer that included a daily Rosary and Divine Mercy Chaplet. It was then I began to relate to Mary in a deeper way. She knew what it was to watch her child suffer, and to grieve every stripe, thorn, and fall.

But there was always hope to light the way.

Motherhood has taught me humility. Not only in my life, but in my expectations.

I no longer think “I only want to be happy.” or “That couldn’t happen to me.”

Instead of thinking “Why me?” I think “Why not?”

Why Jesus? Why Mary?

I no longer let false humility hinder my prayers. I no longer try to earn the love of God.

For all is gift.

We often forget that following Jesus means following Him to the cross.

Where we nail our wants and desires. Where we pray in Gethsemane through blood, sweat, and tears, for God’s will to become our own.

I’ve learned that suffering is a gift. That we don’t change God when we pray; instead, He changes us.

Though there are still ups and downs, I’m happy to say that things have gotten much better. God keeps blessing us, keeps delivering on His promises, and always abides.

The thing about crosses is that they always lead to resurrection. Through grace, the instrument of our torture becomes the ladder we can use to climb to Heaven.

God brought beauty out of the ashes of that time. A richer prayer life, a Confirmation, a marriage proven strong enough to weather any storm.

And He brought me, you (yes, you!) and all the women who so boldly share their stories through our little storytelling apostolate.

Motherhood Through the Mysteries was inspired through that daily Rosary I took up, fueled by the hard things in my life. The things I never would have chosen.

Jesus and Mary showed me how to walk the hills and valleys of the human experience with virtue and grace. They taught me that humility has a lot to do with trust in God and His plans for us.

That no matter how heavy our cross on earth, a crown of glory outweighs it in Heaven.

Let us strive in hope, Sisters, to one day claim them, so that we may lay them at the feet of Christ, our King.

* Motherhood Through the Mysteries is a storytelling apostolate that connects the mysteries of the holy rosary to daily life through a Rosary of Stories. I am praying for 19 special women to share their experiences of motherhood and faith to create a new round of stories. If you’re interested in writing with us please email your inquiry at motherhoodthroughthemysteries@gmail.com by February 28th, 2026.

The Most Powerful Rosary

Telling the story of the most powerful Rosary of my life; Join the Rosary Confraternity!

As a cradle Catholic and a Marian devotee, I’ve prayed countless Rosaries. I’ve prayed them in good times and in bad, in sorrow and in joy. I’ve prayed them as a child, a young adult rediscovering my faith and a seasoned mother. But the most powerful Rosary of my life was prayed this past year.

It wasn’t in the car or in my bed, at the park or over the kitchen sink but a hospital room where my daughter lay on life support. When things became dire I called for spiritual help.

The Franciscan Friars of the Immaculate came to my aid, coordinating for my daughter a blessing by the hospital chaplain and an anointing of the sick given by a priest from the diocesan headquarters across the street. Father assured me that he would come to the hospital as soon as he could to pray with me and my family.

It was day two in the ICU and a sudden decline and iffy prognosis left my husband and I terrified. Naturally, we called our mothers. It just so happened that they arrived at the same time and in God’s perfect timing, the friar followed. We greeted them all with somber thanks in the cold, stark waiting room while a procedure was performed.

The friar offered words of encouragement and passed out Rosary beads of Marian blue, silver and white. Of course, I was already clinging to my own, a large, strand of wooden beads that had long ago been blessed. I asked for confession for my husband and I so that nothing would hinder our prayers. We received absolution in a small, adjoined conference room before heading back into this spiritual battle.

“The holy Rosary is a powerful weapon. Use it with confidence and you’ll be amazed at the results.” -St. Josemaria Escriva

Our group processed through the halls to my daughter’s room, which was directly in front of the nurse’s station since her vitals were so poor. I walked in and placed my wooden rosary in her hand. The moment it touched her, my husband exclaimed that her oxygen saturation spiked. Momentarily, the screen displayed a number much higher than the grim ones we’d been seeing— a spark of hope.

Infinite: God’s Not Finished

Word of the Year:

It’s wild to think that a new year is upon us and 2026 is about to begin! The final days of the year are always a time of reflection and resolution and hope for the future. I try not to make too many goals to worry about but something I enjoy is choosing a word of the year. There are many ways to choose your word. You can use tools like word generators, ask a friend or mentor to choose for you or brainstorm to pick a word that resonates with your soul, experiences or hopes for the future.

However you choose your word it should always be done prayerfully. I make sure to ask for God’s guidance first when choosing a word through prayer and meditation, asking the Holy Spirit to select the word for me. It’s interesting how the word can feel mysterious at first but looking back can come to mean so much. That’s how it was for me in 2025.

What’s that supposed to be? The body of Christ?

“What’s that supposed to be? The body of Christ?”

He said it in a mocking tone through a half-smirk, half-scowl, as he held up a round water cracker. He had plucked it off the slap-dash charcuterie board I set out for our Christmas house guests—him and his family.

He was Christian, like me, but made sure to let me know how he felt about my Catholicism right there in my own home. He preached his version of the truth, pulling up conspiracy websites and videos in the cracked-screen phone he shoved in my face.

He ruthlessly spouted lies and misconceptions about my faith but refused any healthy debate or reasonable discussion. He was too caught up in his ego trip, raining down fire and brimstone in my parlor, telling me to repent and follow Jesus.

If only he could understand that Jesus is everything to me–to us.

3 Easy Advent Paper Crafts for Kids!

Paper candles, a scripture Chain and a paper bag snowflake are easy ways to welcome in the season of Advent (Even at the last minute!)

In this post I’ll tell you the how-t0, the everyday materials we used and list all of the passages of Luke we used for the chain, for your convenience!

*I’m also sharing some videos and pics on my Instagram: @prayersoverthekitchensink and TikTok: @prayeroverthekitchensink

These crafts were so fun and easy to make with the kids. The first craft I’ll highlight is the paper Advent candles. Advent is a time of penance, reflection and preparing our souls to celebrate Jesus’ birth at Christmastide. While the rest of the world is well into cookie parties and full decor, Catholics should slow down to embrace this beautiful time of anticipation. It always makes me think of the last four weeks of pregnancy and what Mother Mary may have felt as she awaited the birth of the Newborn King!

This theme of joyful waiting is articulated by the penitential purple of 3 of the candles as well as the pink of Gaudete Sunday. The weeks, colors and themes are as follows:

Week 1: Purple representing, Hope

Week 2: Purple, Peace

Week 3: Pink, representing Joy (Gaudete Sunday)

Week 4: Purple, representing Love

Christmas: White, representing Christ

I’ve done this project with my kids in the past and it’s great because crayon scribbles, fingerpaint and haphazard glitter all look cool when they’re wrapped around the tube. In years past, I wrote the theme of the week on the side of each candle with black permanent marker and it’s a fun way for children to become familiar with the tradition.

The One Who Can

As Catholics, we’re well advised not to put *too* much stock in dreams. They can be easily influenced by imagination yet; there are several accounts of God reaching out to his people through dreams in the Bible (like that of Saint Joseph). Not all dreams are prophetic but this one has stuck with me and really personifies my journey through Motherhood, and to Mary.

Let me take you into my dream cloud for a spell:

“Where am I?” I wonder, “It’s hot! Why is it so hot?” All I can hear is the muffled sound of waves crashing. I’m walking down the street of an unfamiliar seaside neighborhood road. I squint my eyes, doing my best to look at the houses surrounding me in hopes of recognizing one. A mysterious fog mixed in the sea-sprayed air, too thick to make out details.

My Hero, My Friend

This is a story about my best friend, who went above and beyond to be there for me. My daughter was in the hospital during this time but, in the midst of so much pain, God gave us one of the most precious memories of our friendship, and my life.

Our Origin Story-

How can I even begin to explain a friendship like ours’? We met back in 2007 at tech school where we earned our Medical Assistant certifications. In class we clicked right away. We had a lot in common, both at crossroads in our lives. Me, rebuilding my life after having a baby, leaving my toxic ex and moving back to my mom’s house. She, starting over 3,000 miles away from Arizona where she lived, moving in with her dad and bettering her life for she and her daughter.

Within a few months we were not only going to school together, but working and living as roommates too! We did well in school, both graduating with honors, but our free time looked a bit different. We were a little wild back then, before conversions and reconversions but I have no regrets (okay, maybe one or two!🤭). We talked to guys, danced in clubs and sang in the car. Some of the most fun we had was just hanging out, getting ready and sharing the bathroom mirror.

Sealed With a Cross

This article first appeared on CatholicMom.com

Please follow my writing there as well as the many wonderful contributors who share their hearts, talents and time for the Catholic Mom community!

Cait Winters tells the story of how her kids cheer her on through the Sign of the Cross.

It was lunchtime in the middle of a typically busy homeschooling day. We had spent the morning on a hike at nature co-op and still had math, cursive and reading to cover that afternoon. Homeschooling can be hard on a home (and a homemaker!) because most days, aside from my hardworking husband, everyone is here all day long. I wouldn’t trade this time serving my family for the world, but it often means cooking three meals a day and constant cycles of washing and drying to keep up our well-loved, humble home.

That morning I had overslept, being early-pregnant and tired and didn’t have a chance to unload the perpetual dishes. It was easy to leave and forget about the chores while on our hike but coming back to them was another story. The sink was half-full already, but I had hungry kids to feed, so I fired up the stove and sudsed up what I could. The smell of cooking was turning my stomach and everywhere I looked, my to-do list grew.

I did a swat-like Sign of the Cross, blessing myself as I caught my breath and forged ahead. The Sign of the Cross is a quick way for me to ask for heaven’s help without even saying a word. I broke a sweat but got through the chores, finally setting plates and drinks out for the kids and calling them to the kitchen table.

Our Miracle Part Two

We walked this broken road in April and May. The end of the homeschool year, the end of my college semester, Mother’s Day and her peers graduating all around me as she fought for her life. It was hard but we had hope that through this trial, God was making things new.

A good Prognosis-

From the powerful Rosary mentioned in my last post on, my daughter continued to improve. There were ups and downs and it wasn’t easy but, she was well enough to breathe on her own again. We were so relieved to see her awake and somewhat alert. The next few days brought many challenges, but her prognosis was good. There were a litany of tests and therapies: bloodwork, cultures, CT, MRI, X-ray, physical therapy, occupational therapy and so many doctors, nurses, aides and staff in and out of her room at a steady pace.

My prior experience as a medical assistant, though many years ago, served me well in understanding and handling so much information. I’d often be asked by professionals if I was in the field and it reminded me how no experience is ever wasted. Not even the career “given up” to be home with your kids. My spiritual life has grown so much through the years, more than I could have imagined as a baby Catholic re-vert. Though I was blindsided, God was not surprised. He quipped me with everything I needed to persevere and be strong for my baby.

Our Miracle, From ICU to Total Healing

My daughter Autumn has always been a miracle in my life. First when she was born and again this past Spring when she experienced a radical healing.

When she was graced into my life, I was in a dark place but she was my sunshine. A little tow head with white-blonde hair and blue eyes punctuated by yellow sunbursts around the pupils. She carried me through and when my husband came into our lives, we became a family.

She is our origin story and often reminds us as we have added children, changed and grown, “I started this family!” It’s true, and we just wouldn’t be the same without her.