Roses
Of the five senses, psychologists say the strongest memory trigger is smell. It turns us into time-travelers. The rich scent of baking bread can send us back to a childhood trip to a bakery, The heady smell of roses can transport us back to our Junior Prom and the sweet rose corsage your date gave you.
Then too, the unmistakable scent of roses can be comforting. I can attest to that.
After fighting depression for years, my husband decided he needed a life do-over and moved out. With him went my identity and pride as a “good wife”. As our son played me against my ex, my confidence as a “good mother” collapsed. The crashing down of the World Trade towers became a metaphor for my life. The me I knew was now just dust and heartbreak. I was divorced.
Rather than providing solace, I found attending Sunday mass filled me with undue anguish. Everywhere, happy families crowded the pews. As I sat alone, I was tortured by what I had lost.
One Sunday, that pain brought me to tears during the Eucharistic Celebration. As always, I was sitting by myself, alone among many. After receiving the Lord in Holy Communion, I returned to my pew and to my knees. I sniffed—huh, roses? I sniffed again. Someone’s very strong rose perfume was distracting me from praying my thanks. Who near me had over-sprayed themselves with this unbelievably enveloping scent. Looking around, there were even fewer people around me than before. And no one else seemed to be sniffing the air …Just me.
The overwhelming scent. It had to be a Godincidence. No other explanation comes close. God sent it or allowed someone to surround me with that bubble of rose perfume. To show me He loved me. To comfort me. I stopped questioning. Just thanked God, the powerful almighty, for caring about his littlest. As I deeply inhaled the loving rose scent, delight swept through me for the first time in a long while. It melted something hard inside me and sent my spirit soaring. I felt lighter as though someone had lifted a stone-filled backpack from my shoulders.
But who was carrying my backpack now?
I suspect it was Mother Mary, loving emissary of God and Jesus. I have always loved the Virgin. But other than tacking a Hail Mary prayer on at the end of an Our Father, I hadn’t spent much time thinking about her. But I knew she loved roses, so much so she wore them. The children who saw Mary at La Salette, France, described her wearing a band of multicolored roses across her forehead and they graced the edgie of the shawl covering her shoulders. When Mary appeared to Bernadette at Lourdes, her feet weres adorned with a blooming rose.
Besides thanking them, how else could I offer my appreciation to Mary and Jesus for this great gift? By moving on with my life.
After floating in the rose scented bubble, my life changed. I vanquished my self-pity and redefined my self-worth. Humbled by the gift, sI vowed to learn more about my Catholic faith. I took a course at church based on A Purpose Driven Life. I studied about Jesus through Mary, in the Bible and her apparition messages. She always brings me back to Him. A friend and I started a Marian study group and for 5 years we journeyed with others through dozens of books, from Christ’s Mother and Ours, St Therese’s The Story of a Soul and many of Father Michael Gaitley’s wonderful Hearts Afire books (especially his Marian Consecration book read by millions, 33 Days to Morning Glory ).
Now you know why I could write so intimately about Joni’s overwhelming rose perfume experience in Survival and the Sacred. I lived it.
For more about the connection between Mary and roses, read https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Miracle_of_the_roses For more about private revelation (ie my experience) read http://www.scborromeo.org/ccc/para/67.htm for the Church’s teachings. Or go to https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Private_revelation.
