Tag: St. Rose of Lima

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thoughts on this feast of St. Rose of Lima

A rare shot of the pelicans, undisturbed by Otis.
A rare shot of the pelicans, undisturbed by Otis.

I alluded to the fact of not quite explaining our move to the Gulf coast recently, yet I’ve posted picture after picture of some of the amazing views of our new life in Mobile. There’s a story, of course, and it kind of begins with my book, My Badass Book of Saints, which features St. Rose of Lima in one of the chapters, and ends with building a dream cottage on the water.

Or maybe, that’s where the story begins.

We’ve settled into a life of retirement, and although I always promised myself that when I retired I would sleep until noon, it’s impossible to sleep past 6:00 AM around here. First of all, the sun finds my eyes at just about 5:55 AM. It wakes me enough to clamp a pillow over my face, but I’m lucid enough to hear the Angelus bells ring at the little church nearby, so I’m out of luck. Or in luck. Or actually, blessed to be called to prayer. Ain’t no going back to sleep after that.

It’s a tough life. I highly recommend it.

The church is named St. Rose of Lima, and were it not for St. Rose, I’d still be teaching college, and we’d still be telling Otis to quit chasing squirrels. It happens that while on a weekend getaway to the area, we were looking for a church and picked St. Rose because, well, I’d just finished writing about her. My husband was looking for a church and when he saw the name he thought he’d surprise me.

Boy, did he surprise me. It turns out, there was a for sale sign in the area, and before we knew it, we were moving into this house he built in a year. There’s more, but I’m kind of holding onto that for a while.

In the meantime, I’m writing books instead of teaching college. And Otis? Well he gave up squirrels. Now he’s chasing pelicans.

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Featured Saint: Rose of Lima

St. Rose of Lima medalI have recently developed a special devotion to St. Rose of Lima. I feel like she picked me, instead of the other way around.

At the recent Edel Gathering in Charleston, I happened to have her assigned to me as my hall pass and conference patron. There’s a more complicated story about that. I’ll share it another time, but suffice to say, she’s my girl now.

Coincidentally, or God-incidentally, she’s also featured in my very favorite chapter of My Badass Book of Saints.

Because I grew up Catholic and attended Catholic schools, I knew of St. Rose in that way that most kids get to know saints — there was probably a statue of her somewhere, most likely in the convent or a classroom, and if she wasn’t a martyr with some fantastic tale of a beheading, then that’s about where the story ended for me.

I’m desperately trying to make up for lost time when it comes to familiarizing myself with the lives of extraordinary men and especially women whose holy lives inspire me to grow in sanctity — one story at a time.

St. Rose, the story goes, was so beautiful that she cut off her hair and rubbed pepper all over her face in order to repel suitors.

That got my attention.

She consecrated her virginity to Christ, in spite of her father’s opposition. He wanted her to marry and blocked her from becoming a nun. He finally gave in to her, and allowed her to pursue an ascetic life, retired to her rooms.

Although she never became a nun, she did enter The Third Order St. Dominic and served the poor and sick in her community. I liked her for serving the poor, something that pulls at my heart, too.

“The gift of grace increases as the struggle increases.” -St. Rose of Lima

But her care for the sick drew me in. I started reading about St. Rose at about the same time my father’s cancer took a bad turn, and the more I read about her, the more I began to see the beauty in his caregivers, starting first with my mother but also in the loving selflessness of nurses and other health professionals.

As I learn to accept and go with the flow in my own husband’s illness, I take great solace in knowing I have in St. Rose a companion and prayer partner. That I continue to encounter her in odd moments, whether in a chapel, or like at Edel, in a medal picked out for me by someone else, tells me she has taken an interest in me.

Blows my mind a little, but why not? You can’t beat having a Saint want to befriend you, now, can you? Takes spiritual friendship to a new level. And grace.

 

 

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the struggle is real

The gift of grace increases as the struggle increases.

~St. Rose of Lima

I recently had an encounter with St. Rose of Lima while on a mini-vacation. Don’t worry, I don’t usually have saints come up behind me and tap me on the shoulder. I certainly wish  things were that easy.

It wasn’t like that — I’ve just had a lot of things piling up for discernment. I’ve often felt that a memo from God would make everything so easy. I could obey, or disobey, and it would be very clear either way.

So I found myself confused — a little lost even as I struggled to make some decisions on my own. I was on vacation but instead of relaxing I was getting more and more wound up. Finally, I just prayed for a church, any church, so I could go inside for a moment. To pray. To sit before the Blessed Sacrament.

My husband, aware of my anxiety, googled local churches while I went inside a gas station for some drinks. He was smiling broadly when I came back, and told me I’d get a nice surprise about a block down the road.

Sure enough, we turned down a side road and there in front of us was a quaint little church named after St. Rose of Lima. I got my wish and the peace that comes from prayer: Jesus I trust in you.

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