Personal Narrative Essay: The Rosary Walk

The Rosary Walk, located in Perryville, Missouri, is the most unique religious location in the Midwest. The half-mile walk is situated adjacent to the National Shrine of Our Lady of the Miraculous Medal and is designed for you to pray the Rosary while taking a stroll through nature. At the start of my journey, my heart was set on observing the life-size statues of Mary and other historical figures. Little did I know, the nature of the walk would overwhelm my adventure. The birds chirping, the leaves falling, and the sun setting all create this experience for me. The focal point of the Rosary Walk is not the history behind all of the memorials but the beauty of the nature surrounding it.

As I step out of my vehicle, a calm, cool breeze brushes over my face like a small blanket would to my arm. I get a good whiff of the fall leaves, and I can hear the splashing of water in the distance. I turn around, and a fountain with a majestic statue of Mary on top greets me. I look up to see a sky with not a single cloud, and I think to myself, “I could not have picked a better day!” The church of St. Mary’s of the Barrens is towering over me to my left. Then I look in the opposite direction to see a gift shop for those who want to make their memory last. Unsurprisingly, the whole plaza is flooded with tourists, so I am only given more hope as I step forward toward the Rosary Walk. 

I can see a few statues and buildings in the distance, so I take that as my sign to trek in that direction. The landscaping surrounding the walkway is stunning. All the colors, the oranges, the tans, the whites, and the browns are reminiscent of autumn in its entirety. There are trees everywhere you look, of all varieties, that complement the landscaping and the sky to perfection. I take about twenty steps on the concrete and find myself under a pavilion as vibrant as the sun itself. A map made of dark stone gives its hikers a clear representation of the correct way to walk without forcing them to solve a puzzle in the process. As instructed, I step out from the pavilion. The first piece of art I discover is the sun setting on the horizon on the brink of falling under the trees. Directly after, I begin my journey. I can see a large maroon cross painted on the concrete that points forward. I recall the shape the map was in and remember the correct way to walk is straight ahead. My feet pass over the painting, and off I go. 

My first observation is a log hut circled by beautiful willow trees towering over everything surrounding them, including me. When I approach the small building, I spot a few stone arches surrounding the hut, providing it a sense of protection. ¨Woah, look at that family of squirrels,¨ I thought to myself out of curiosity. I walk around the backside of the hut and locate a small fountain that provides all these little creatures a water source. I walk twenty to thirty steps more, and I detect a small statue that guards the walkway in the distance. I recognize its shape and confirm my suspicions as I approach the figure. The figure is a Miraculous Medal, honoring Mary. The bronze statue states, “O Mary conceived without sin pray for us who have recourse to thee.” After glancing for a bit, I move on. I walk for a few minutes before seeing another large monument, but there are multiple bronze and stone statues to examine along the path. They are incredibly detailed and give me a small glimpse of history in this walk of nature.

I approach a stone memorial with a stone sculpture of two girls who seem to be arguing over something, but I am mistaken. This specific memorial, “The First Apparition,” is regarding Mary appearing to a woman referred to as Catherine Laboure in the July of 1830, and advising this woman to first trust in God, then she will be rewarded with graces. After reading more about this event, I learned that the church canonized Catherine Laboure as a saint in 1947. “How have I never heard of this?” I think to myself as I walk away. 

In this stretch of my journey, there is nothing but nature to adore. I can hear the birds singing a graceful song and the recently fallen leaves crunching as I trot along. The sun, almost wholly set at this point, has a perfect reflection on the variety of fall-colored leaves on the trees to my left. The view to my right, however, is arguably more beautiful. The sunflower glow from the setting sun cast upon the wheat field before me gives the sea of orange a lively feel. After I look up from the pure beauty before me, I see the sky, a clear, blue painting outlined by the lavender color from the majestic rays of the sun. “I don’t even think a picture of something this amazing would do it justice,” I tell myself. The feeling I get when adoring the marvelous views created by mother nature herself is almost twice as great as the feeling I get from looking at historical monuments. 

At this moment, I notice a large structure in the distance, “It’s a castle!” After getting a closer look, I discover that it is not a castle but another memorial. This stone structure is not a typical memorial I have been accustomed to seeing; this one is much bigger. There are long, stone benches to the left and right of the stone building, and there are rows of candles just below a statue of Mary that is at the peak of the structure a few feet inside the stonework. I walk closer and find myself before a bridge that I must cross to get a closer look at the site. I stop myself for a minute when I get to the center of the bridge and take a look at my surroundings. A creek runs under the arch of the “Bridge at the Grotto.” This creek has a gorgeous fountain spewing water a dozen feet into the air to my right and a large, white cross upon a hill containing the spring that starts the creek to my left. At this point, I give my best effort not to be distracted by the stunning scenery and move onward toward the stone memorial. 

I take another look around when I get closer to the building. Everything looks even more detailed than it already did. Slowly, I move closer to the monument and eventually find myself just below Mary. “The Grotto,” I whisper to myself as I read the metal tablet describing the stonework and its life-size statue of Mary. It is here that I first learned that the Grotto was erected by a group of priests and seminarians in 1918. A small, five to ten square foot room adjacent to this tablet contains rows of candles for people to ignite and ask Mary for her intercession. When I back away from the monument, I take one last look at Mary up above and think to myself, “She’s taller than me!” 

The walk back to my vehicle was filled with tons of deep thoughts and sorrow, knowing that my trip was on the brink of its end. My path is now illuminated by an endless amount of lamp posts and the moon up above. After a few minutes of walking, I find myself back at the pavilion where my journey began, and that is when the bells start to ring me a song. With the music still playing, I find myself thinking about all the wonderous views I discovered through the nature of this experience. On one end of the spectrum, I have a feeling of victory as I have just completed a half-mile trek in the cold. But on the other end, I wish there was more for me to observe to satisfy my hunger for exploration. As I slowly trot back to my vehicle, I realize that I am the only person left of what was once a lively area when I first arrived. As I look back on my adventure, I think about all of the little tidbits of information I learned, but more importantly, I reminisce on the bond I’ve created with nature.