Will It Be Joy or Gnashing of Teeth?
The Rosary’s Revelation 7/10/2025
I just had the most beautiful time with my rosary—
one of those moments where prayer turns into presence,
and presence turns into praise.
I prayed the Luminous Mysteries slowly, letting names and situations rise as they came. People I love. Places in pain. Things I can’t fix. All of it, gently threaded through the beads. But more than asking, I just sat in reflection—grateful for how good God has been to me. How deeply I trust Him—maybe more than I realized. And how thankful I am for the Catholic Church, which has carried this grace through the ages and handed it to me like a family heirloom.
Lately, I’ve been thinking a lot about the last line of the Hail Mary:
“pray for us sinners, now and at the hour of our death.”
That prayer has taken root in me—especially as I’ve become more aware of the spiritual battles in our world. I believe in the unseen. I believe some of those paranormal things we see on TV aren’t just fiction. I don’t want to be blind. I want to be ready.
So I’ve been asking Mary, from my heart, to pray for me especially at that moment.
And then—something happened.
As I finished the rosary and began the Hail Holy Queen,
I had a vision.
The Vision: Running Into His Arms
Mary appeared—glorious, gentle—and she took my hand and led me straight to Jesus.
I ran.
Like a child whose Father had been away too long, I flung myself into His arms. He caught me, and we both laughed with a joy that kept rising—relief, reunion, belonging. I clung to Him like a daughter who finally made it home.
And then—we weren’t alone.
People began streaming in behind me. They were laughing, crying, hugging one another, and clinging to Jesus with overwhelming joy. It was like the gates of heaven had just opened, and we were the ones stepping through.
And Mary?
She stood nearby, radiant with joy—watching her team come home.
And that’s when something unexpected happened:
A Glimpse Within the Vision: The Tryout
I didn’t make it up.
I didn’t try to interpret anything.
It just came, inside the vision.
Suddenly I saw a tryout scene—just like a high school cheer tryout—
but full of spiritual weight.
Some of the names had already been called.
Those kids were celebrating, laughing, hugging.
They looked around, eyes wide—this is the team.
The real work starts now. Who are my teammates?
Who will I grow with, sweat with, serve with?
Then came the last few names.
The last person selected was probably the most joyous of all—
barely making it in, breathing out relief and wonder.
And the rest?
They sat on the bench, biting their nails, hoping.
Then crying.
Then breaking.
I saw the ins—radiant, rejoicing, called.
And I saw the outs—crushed, bitter, angry, or simply shut out.
It was clear.
And it was final.
My Own Tryout
That vision brought something back I hadn’t thought of in years.
I tried out for cheerleading once.
It didn’t go well.
I wasn’t a dancer. I wasn’t thin—at least not in the way girls had to be back then to make the team. I was out of shape and unprepared. And honestly? I didn’t want it badly enough to work for it.
I didn’t make the team.
And I never tried again.
It didn’t break me at the time.
But now I see what it taught me:
If you wait to get it together at the last minute… it might be too late.
My Daughter’s Tryout
Years later, my daughter decided to try out for drill team.
I hadn’t encouraged it—cheer wasn’t my thing. We didn’t have money for uniforms or competitions. And I was distracted—dealing with her father’s chaos.
She did it without me. And when she didn’t make it, she was heartbroken.
And she bore that disappointment alone.
But she didn’t give up.
She practiced every day for a year. And when the next tryouts came around, I made sure I was there—ready to support her whether she made it or not.
Ten minutes before the end, she sprained her ankle.
But the coaches knew her story.
They’d watched her train.
And through a mix of effort and mercy, she made the team.
She stayed on it for five years.
My Grandkids’ Tryouts
My grandkids started cheering as toddlers.
By the time they were in junior high and high school in Texas, tryouts were high-stakes. They’ve always made the team, but I’ve seen the cost—the pressure, the disappointment of others, the tears in the parking lot.
They’re done cheering now—one has graduated, the other moved into managing the team.
Cheerleading doesn’t have eternal consequences.
But walking with the Lord does.
The Meaning Became Clear
That glimpse of the tryout wasn’t about sports.
It was about salvation.
The team Mary was leading? That was Team Heaven.
Some made it. Some didn’t.
Some had trained. Some had shown up without preparation.
Some were welcomed in through mercy. Others… never wanted it at all.
It wasn’t about perfection.
It was about readiness.
About desire.
About surrender.
“Many are called, but few are chosen.” —Matthew 22:14
“Strive to enter through the narrow gate.” —Luke 13:24
Final Thought: Tryouts Are Still Unfolding
I never made the cheer team.
But I’ve seen enough tryouts now to know what matters.
We don’t earn our way into heaven—but we do have to want it.
We have to train. To show up. To stay close to the Coach.
And I, for one, want to be ready.
I want to hear my name called.
I want Mary to lead me to Jesus.
I want to run to Him laughing.
And when He sees me coming,
I want Him to say:
“You made it. I’ve been waiting to celebrate with you.”
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