In a quiet room near the Vatican, Robert Pvost sat alone, his phone buzzing relentlessly with messages doubting his future as an American pope.

He silenced the noise, pulled out a worn wooden rosary—his mother’s—and began to pray the first glorious mystery.

Twelve hours later, white smoke rose, signaling his election as Pope Leo I 14th.

But the victory was already won in prayer.

Born in 1955 on Chicago’s Southside, Robert’s parents worked grueling jobs.

His mother’s daily ritual was unyielding: at 5 a.m.

, she’d shake him awake to pray the rosary’s glorious mysteries.

“Glory doesn’t mean you never struggle,” she said, “it means you rise anyway.

” Though reluctant as a boy, those prayers planted seeds that would carry him through decades of missionary work in Peru’s poorest villages.

There, amidst hardship and obscurity, Robert faced his own “tomb”—feeling buried by life’s struggles, unseen and unheard.

One morning, recalling his mother’s words, he realized: “The tomb was never locked.

The stone just looked too heavy.

” Resurrection isn’t about avoiding death; it’s about rising after it.

Pope Leo calls this liminal space “perpetual Saturday”—the time between crisis and breakthrough when pain lingers, and hope feels distant.

Many live stuck in this in-between, whether in broken relationships, stalled careers, or buried dreams.

The first glorious mystery—the resurrection—is the key that rolls away the stone.

As we pray together, visualize your own tomb—the place you feel trapped.

Picture Jesus standing at its entrance, calling you out.

This prayer isn’t passive waiting; it’s active stepping forward, trusting that the stone is already moved.

The second mystery, the ascension, invites a shift from ground-level frustration to “ascension thinking”—seeing beyond immediate problems to eternal perspective.

Jesus didn’t abandon us; He ascended to prepare a place and advocate for us.

We are heirs, not victims.

Praying this mystery empowers us to live from victory, not defeat.

Pope Leo’s leadership embodies this: rising above chaos, thinking eternally, not quarterly.

This mindset transforms how we face life’s challenges.

Halfway through the rosary, we honor the hidden work with the fourth mystery—the assumption.

In a culture obsessed with fame and visibility, Pope Leo reminds us that faithfulness in unseen, ordinary tasks is holy.

The quiet sacrifices of parents, workers, caregivers—though unnoticed by the world—are treasured by heaven and woven into crowns of glory.

Praying this mystery reframes mundane acts as worship.

Every dish washed, every email answered, every sacrifice offered is a thread in God’s eternal tapestry.

Finally, the fifth glorious mystery—the coronation of Mary—seals the rosary’s power.

Mary’s crowning as Queen of Heaven symbolizes divine authority and protection.

A home where the rosary is prayed becomes a fortress against spiritual attack.

This mystery is a declaration of authority, not a plea.

It commands peace over anxiety, unity over division, and protection over vulnerability.

The enemy may knock, but cannot enter when the Queen’s seal is present.

Pope Leo teaches that this spiritual armor must be maintained daily.

Prayer is not a one-time event but a fortress we guard and strengthen continually.

On May 8th, 2025, as white smoke billowed over St.

Peter’s Square, Robert Pvost held his mother’s rosary—proof that victory was won long before the world watched.

The five prayers, five keys, one seal that carried him to the papacy are now in your hands.

Your home is sealed.

Your life is fortified.

The question is: will you guard this fortress or leave the door open?