I’m not Catholic. I consider myself a lapsed Episcopalian since I haven’t been to church in nearly two decades.

Because I’m not Catholic, or part of any other denomination from where my lovely icons came from, I’m being told I’m being disrespectful.

Say what?

I love my rosary, which is highly black lacquered wood interspersed with brass beads from Poland. At the center of the cross there is a small magnifying dome over a very tiny printing of the Lord’s Prayer. My eyes don’t allow me to see it anymore, but I like knowing that it is there. I have it hanging on my bedpost right where I can touch it when I wake from some of my worst nightmares.

I don’t use my rosary to aid me in my prayers; I’m not sure I really know how. But do I disrespect it? No, I don’t. It brings me peace and sometimes I like wearing the rosary with my black dress (the one that my husband says makes me look like a little nun!). I rarely can go out on my own these days, and just having my rosary with me, gives me a bit of an encouragement boost to my spirit.

Here’s a photo of my most favorite icon, which I’m told I shouldn’t have hanging anywhere in my house because I’m not Catholic.

This was a postcard that my great Aunt Lulu purchased when she visited the Vatican in 1945. My great aunt was Catholic. The postcard was given to my mother along with a prayer bible, a bookmark with the Lord’s Prayer on it and a pretty, small prayer card of silk embroidered with a prayer to the Virgin Mary.

My mom kept the postcard framed in cheap frames until she married dad in 1961 when she had it professionally framed. When I was born in 1962 mom hung the postcard in my nursery. She did the same with it for each of my brothers when they were born. I came into possession of the image after my parents divorce and when mom and I moved to Monterey, CA.

I kept the image hanging in my room until I was married. Then, for some odd reason, I hung the postcard in our bathroom behind the door. Any artist will tell you that it’s rather stupid hanging anything that is not proofed against steam and moisture in a bathroom. My mother told me quite a few times not to do that.

For sixteen years, the postcard has hung, behind the door, in various bathrooms. There is no mold, or any kind of corruption that you’d find with any other picture. The only damage it retains is from the time the framed image had some water drip upon the rough linen wrapped mat when cold weather broke some water pipes in our house in Hermann, MO and we were on vacation.

This will be buried with me because Mary has given me comfort and peace so many times in my life that I’m reluctant to let her go and I have no one to pass her onto.

Don’t tell me I’m not allowed. Peace, comfort, inspiration is available to all. No matter what form it might be in.

So, there.