Father Diotrophes wondered what the prayer group was up to. They were mumbling a lot and shuffling around, even more than usual. Oh, he was sure that sooner or later they’d be bothering him about one thing or another, and whatever it was would really be annoying.
Sure enough, they all crowded around him like they were one organism.
He couldn't make out what they were saying. They were all talking at once. So he just said, “No.”
“But Father, Father, we want to bury our old rosary beads. That would be the respectful way to dispose of blessed objects.” The group pleaded.
Father Diotrophes warily asked, “Where?”
“On church property,” was the response.
“Well, of course. How appropriate!” thought the pastor.
And everyone went away happy.
That is until the pastor was walking the grounds and surveying the spring buds sprouting. The tulip bulbs he planted in front of the statue of St. Theresa weren't up yet. Father Diotrophes wondered why. Everything else was sprouting. There was sun. It was too bad because that little space in front of the statue looked empty.
So Father Diotrophes planted more tulips in front of the statue. As he was digging with his trowel, the blade hit something. He looked, and something shiny was sticking out from the soil. It was the cache of old rosaries that ragged prayer group buried.
There was a note attached to the beads. It read:
Here lies our dear rosary beads
They were well used and served our needs.
But they got broken and all twisted,
So now we’ll try to forget they ever existed.
It...the note…well …. It brought a tear to Father’s eye.