Imagination and Faith belong to each other. In our expression as Catholic Christians, we are invited to enter into so many mysteries. Our sacraments are mystical, we pray mysteries of the Rosary, the list goes on. God is constantly asking us to enter into a space of imagination.

It had been a noisy morning full of little hands tugging on my shirt, requests for snacks, spills on the carpet and dancing to the Frozen soundtrack.

When I settle my two little girls in the stroller for a mid-morning walk, I realize this rare pocket of quiet is a good opportunity to pray the rosary.

Yet, as I start saying a Hail Mary, I find my mind drifting off and thinking about what I’m going to make for dinner, how I’ll respond to that email in my inbox, and what the weather will be like tomorrow.

If each Hail Mary is a rose and each decade a bouquet, mine would be full of dry and wilted weeds.

Our Blessed Mother deserves a gathering of snow white blossoms, tightly bound together by a sincere meditation on the mysteries of the rosary. So, I set out on a quest to focus and strengthen my mental prayer.

Turning to the saints for guidance, I stumbled upon some advice from St. Francis de Sales that really struck me. He said that if we use our imagination to concentrate our minds on the mystery we wish to meditate, it can prevent our thoughts from wandering so much during prayer, as if shutting a bird within a cage.

To do this, St. Francis de Sales suggested that we place ourselves within the scene of the mystery. Imagine your surroundings, what do you see, hear or smell? Try to form a vivid picture of Jesus, Mary and the Saints connected to that particular mystery. Imagine them as if they were your friends sitting beside you. Try to share in their devout feelings.

Inspired by this saintly wisdom, I decided to try this method on the first Sorrowful Mystery, the Agony in the Garden.

To set the scene, I envisioned Jesus in the Garden of Gethsemane, pacing around the trunk of a gnarly old olive tree. Jesus is about to take on the weight of every sin ever committed—including the one that will happen moments from now, when His disciple and close friend Judas betrays Him and turns Him in to be arrested. Jesus asks His disciples to keep Him company during this frightening night, but they abandon Him and fall asleep.

Then, my view pans beyond the garden and into a humble home in Jerusalem, where there is one person who isn’t sleeping—someone who could never abandon Jesus. It’s Mary.

As St. Francis de Sales suggested, I imagine that I am sitting next to Mary now, sharing in her devout feelings. Mary is wide awake and pacing the floors. She is exhausted but it’s impossible to rest. A mother can’t sleep when her child is suffering.

Mary knew this time of suffering would come, but it feels like the night has arrived too soon. She thinks about the last time she hugged Jesus—a moment of sweetness to mix with the bitter reality that the next time she holds Him, He will be dead. Mary pictures her Son’s beautiful hands, the same hands that reached for her when He was a baby, and she tries to etch in her mind what they look like before she sees them scourged and pierced with nails.

Meanwhile, back in the garden, Jesus’ agony begins. He feels a deep sorrow in His heart that pulses through His very core. He’s trembling and clammy. It’s so intense that His sweat turns to blood and He collapses on the hard, twisted roots of the olive tree.

Mary’s heart is perfectly united to Jesus as both His disciple and His mother, and so she is torn apart in sorrow, too. She longs to take on Jesus’ pain. She’d rather suffer the blows herself than watch Him go through this. Yet, she knows it must happen in this way and very bravely trusts in God’s divine plan.

Mary doesn’t waste one sleepless hour of this agonizing night. Instead, she prepares her heart for the torment yet to come and fervently prays for God’s will to be done. And in an act of perfect love, she unites her suffering with Jesus to redeem the world.

And in that moment, I finished praying my decade of Hail Marys.

By focusing my imagination on the first Sorrowful Mystery, yet allowing it to fly about the scene like a bird in a cage, God revealed to me a view of Mary on the night before her Son is crucified. Imagining the details of that night and sharing in Mary’s devout feelings helped me understand this mystery in a new, meaningful light.

Meet Laura Williams

Often seen in a pair of purple sunglasses, a floral dress and holding a babe in each arm—Laura loves her job as a wife, mother and homemaker. Her perfect day includes playing with her two daughters, a family hike and baking fancy cupcakes for a themed party she planned. On the business end, Laura worked in corporate communications for 3 years before following her true vocation of motherhood. Connect with Laura on Instagram @laurabwilli.

Caging the Bird: How to Focus Our Imagination During Prayer

Meet Laura Williams