I was raised in a traditional and staunch Catholic family. Ever since I can remember—ever since I first began to understand anything at all — I remember my father, David, attending Rosary meetings at our parish, St James in Schauderville, Gqeberha, on Monday nights.
I remember the Rosary rallies held at Nazareth House, organised by the Legionaries. At the time, the Legion of Mary at St James was a strong and visible force in the parish. They held regular prayer meetings, visited the sick, and reached out to what were then called “lapsed Catholics.” They were the spiritual fuel of our parish community.
I knew my father first and foremost as a Legionary. Later, he became a Eucharistic Minister and a ward leader, but before all of that, he was a man deeply devoted to Our Lady and the Rosary.
As a family, we prayed the Rosary often. We knew it by heart. Even today, I can still hear my father’s voice—the tone, the emphasis, the rhythm, and the lingering silence of prayerful meditation.
Naturally, I followed in his footsteps. Without much prompting, I immersed myself in parish life: altar server, youth ministry, proclaimer, altar server coordinator, Education for Life programmes, Care Ministry, catechist, Bible College, retreat presenter—I did it all.
Then, for reasons beyond the scope of this reflection, I withdrew. For years, I became a silent participant. I sat in the pews—an observer, a spectator, going through the motions. Then came 2023.
The Holy Spirit called me back
On 7 April 2023 — Good Friday — I proclaimed at the Good Friday service. That day became a turning point. Good Friday led me back into active ministry through RCIA and reawakened my love for reflective and spiritual writing.
But quietly, almost unnoticed at first, there was another grace at work in my life. That grace came through my wife. She did not grow up Catholic. She came from a Protestant background. Yet somehow, through God’s mysterious design, it was she who helped me rediscover the beauty of my own Catholic faith.
Prior to joining the Catholic Women’s League which she enjoys so much, my wife began serving at luncheon events for the poor. She has an immense love for those in need. Giving is simply part of who she is—whether it is the R2 she offers at KFC, clothing for someone in need, or her time and compassion for the forgotten.
Her generosity drew me deeper into that same charism—the desire to give, to serve, and to love without condition.
On days when I felt spiritually lazy—days when I searched for excuses not to attend Mass—she would gently encourage me to “pick up my mat and walk.”
As much as I initiated our family’s daily evening prayers, which include the Rosary, my wife took that devotion to an entirely new level.
The Power of the Rosary
There was a time when she endured deep personal and mental suffering. At times, it felt as though we were living under constant spiritual attack—as if unseen forces were relentlessly pressing against our peace, our home, and our faith.
Later, she shared something with me that I will never forget.
She said: “If it were not for my faith and the Rosary, I would surely have turned to some type of medicated cure in tablets. I had two choices: the Rosary or tablets. I chose the Rosary. It kept me sane.”
To this day, that remains one of the most beautiful testimonies I have ever heard about the power of the Rosary. She prays it whenever she can—at any given moment, she finds the opportunity. Watching her pray the Rosary taught me something profound: she does not merely pray it as a devotion; she prays it as a spiritual weapon.
In Genesis 3:15, God speaks to the serpent and declares: “I will put enmity between you and the woman, and between your offspring and hers; he will crush your head, and you will strike his heel.”
For us as Catholics, this has always echoed through Marian devotion. It reminds us of the Woman — Mary — whose humility and obedience helped crush the serpent’s head through Christ.
And every time I see my wife clutching her Rosary beads in prayer, I am reminded of that same truth: evil does not have the final word.
The Rosary is not superstition. It is not empty repetition. It is a weapon of grace. A weapon of peace. A weapon of perseverance. Through Our Lady, evil is confronted, resisted, and defeated.
Through her love for this ancient and meditative prayer, I fell in love with it all over again—the very prayer my late father, the ultimate Legionary, had first planted so deeply within me.
Patterns of grace
As I reflect on this now, I cannot help but notice the beautiful pattern of grace in my family.
My father’s faith journey was strengthened because my mother encouraged him to become more involved in the Church. She grew tired of him lying around, overly attached to his music, and told him to go and do something meaningful with his life — to serve God. And in doing so, she changed the fortunes of an entire family.
My mother herself was Catholic all her life, but only received Confirmation when she married my father.
Now, another woman has changed the direction of my life. The woman who helped me rediscover my gifts, my purpose, and my love for the Church is also a convert. A former Protestant – my wife! There is a beautiful irony in that.
God used a Protestant-turned-Catholic to remind a cradle Catholic of the treasure he had forgotten. He used her to lead me back—not only to the Rosary, but back to wonder, devotion, and a renewed love for the beauty and power of my Catholic faith.
And for that, I will always be grateful.
