Knot by Knot Reflections

*My baby bloomers*. *L-R: Lydia, Methuselah, Cinderella, & Naomi*

Knot by Knot: Turning Toward the Light — 3.18.2026

There are days when I sit down to make a rosary, and my heart feels heavy before I even begin.

The cord rests in my hands, and for a moment, I don’t know what to do with everything I’m carrying.

But then… I start.

One knot.

Then another.

Slowly, rhythmically, my hands begin to move—

and something within me begins to soften.

Lately, I’ve been reminded of this through something unexpected… my plants.

One of them, I named Cinderella. She bends low, her leaves reaching outward but never quite upright. For a while, I felt just like her—heavy with sorrow, weighed down by things I couldn’t fix.

Still alive.

Still rooted.

But not standing tall.

And then there’s Lydia.

She stands in the window, open and steady, her leaves turned fully toward the sun. She doesn’t force herself to grow—she simply receives the light she’s given.

And in a quiet, almost unnoticed way…

I’ve begun to do the same.

Knot by knot, prayer by prayer,

I am learning that healing doesn’t come all at once.

It comes in small offerings.

In surrendered moments.

In choosing, again and again, to turn toward the light of Christ—even when the weight hasn’t fully lifted.

Some days, I still feel like Cinderella.

But today…

as the cord moves through my fingers,

and the light spills gently through the window…

I feel a little more like Lydia.

Reflection:

What are you carrying today?

And can you offer it—just one knot at a time—back to God?

*When my mind won’t quiet, my hands begin to pray. Knot by knot, I release what I cannot carry and place it into God’s mighty and merciful hands.*

Knot by Knot: The Quiet Peace of Knotting a Rosary — 3.17.2026

Oh, the peace I feel while making a rosary.

With every knot I tie, a thought is released. Every small movement of the cord through my fingers becomes a prayer — sometimes spoken, sometimes silent, sometimes simply surrendered.

There are times when I begin a rosary feeling frustrated.

Sometimes sad.

Sometimes even angry.

But with every gentle swoop of my fingers, I find myself letting those feelings go and placing them into God’s hands.

I might begin thinking about how I want to respond to someone who has wronged me. But with each knot, I’m reminded why I shouldn’t answer from anger or frustration. Instead, I’m drawn back to a place of love, patience, and grace.

By the end of each decade, something inside of me has softened.

By the end of the rosary, I have healed a little more.

Tonight I finished a rosary I have been wanting to create for some time now. It is the largest piece I have ever made.

The crucifix measures three inches long.

The centerpiece — a beautiful silver-toned milagro heart holding a colored image of Our Lady of Guadalupe — is nearly three times the size of a traditional center, standing about two inches high and an inch and a half wide.

The Hail Mary beads are deep garnet-red glass, each one a quiet reminder of sacrifice, love, and redemption.

When I finish a rosary, I never feel like I’ve simply completed a piece of work. What rests in my hands is the finished result of prayer, patience, and surrender.

A humble offering to our Almighty Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ.

I thank Him for guiding me through some of my heaviest thoughts, stresses, and sorrows.

God is good — all the time.

Reflection:

What are you holding onto today that you might gently release, knot by knot, into God’s hands?