A Rose from Thérèse

How my Little Sister spoiled me today

This morning, during the chanting of the Liturgy of the Hours at church, I prayed to Jesus and Mary and my Little Sister, St. Thérèse of Lisieux, whose feast day it is today, to help me with my new job.

It was my first day on the job as an activity aide at a local nursing home, and I was somewhat nervous because, frankly, I’m enough out of shape that a taxing eight-hour day with lots of running around would frighten me a bit.

I also read online that prior to her death, St. Thérèse, whose aspiration it was to become a great saint, promised to send roses down to earth, and some people experienced just that—so I asked her to send me a rose today.

When I stepped out of the church after the Liturgy of the Hours, I noticed a lovely scent in the crisp morning air… and right next to the church sat a blooming rose bush that smelled just heavenly. I’m sure it was there all along, but I hadn’t noticed it before. Quite possibly, too, the roses were blooming again because after the long summer drought the soil was finally saturated with rain.

I smiled to myself as I walked to the car. “Thanks, Little Sister,” I said, “you really didn’t wait long to send me a rose—and so many all at once!”

But she wasn’t done. When I entered the nursing home, my eyes were immediately drawn to vases upon vases of red roses—in the dining room, the foyer, even our tiny, cramped activity office.

This sign from Thérèse made me so cheerful and smiley that I forgot all about being nervous. And over the long workday, I realized one important thing: that my “job description” was basically just “to love people.”

Anything done in this nursing home was to make the residents happy. Huge emphasis was placed on “interact with the residents, smile at the residents, chat with the residents, play games with the residents, touch or hug the residents.”

When I participated in a dance therapy session led by a very bubbly woman, I realized that I needed to leave any kind of polite piety or sense of my own dignity at the door. This was the kind of environment where you couldn’t be ashamed to make a fool of yourself. Sing, dance, wear a funny hat—whatever it takes to bring a smile to a resident’s face and brighten their day even just a little.

These were people who had arrived at their final home on this Earth. Many of them had lost everything: their health, their spouses, their families, their ability to speak, hear, see, walk—and yet they were still filled with life and often with great gentleness and joy.

And I found myself loving them all.

Being with them made me happy.

What a revelation.

Suddenly, it dawned on me. The events of the last few years had been largely a mystery to me. I knew VatiGod* was mightily at work in my life, but I couldn’t figure out what exactly He was doing. For years, I had begged Him to make me a saint. I always knew this would be a life-long undertaking, and I was never expecting to be a great saint. Just a little “s” one, without all the pomp and canonization and stuff.

And here, in that moment, the big picture was finally taking shape in my mind.

“It feels like all the puzzle pieces are coming together now,” I said to a Catholic coworker. “First, God made me move to Steubenville; He took away my cushy, high-paid job in the investment industry; He brought me to the Order of Secular Discalced Carmelites; and He nudged me into the field of eldercare, which I never in a million years would have thought of as a possible career. I feel like He did all this to teach me humility, obedience, and to love people.”

Humility, obedience, and love/charity: the three key components that form saints.

Not that I expect to get there anytime soon. I know myself a little too well to labor under that illusion. But what blows my mind is that VatiGod not only heard my prayers—He heard me and planned everything out to a T so I would be put into a position where I could practice the three above-mentioned, all-important virtues.

Wow, Vati, as always, you amaze me. Thank you for this opportunity.

By the way: After work, I dragged myself back to church to attend a women’s Bible study that started just last week… and here too were many vases with beautiful roses. And at the end of the session, we were all encouraged to take one rose home. Exactly what I had asked for. Thanks for the gift, St. Thérèse… and happy feast day! Love, Shannara

*VatiGod is my personal term of endearment for God the Father. Vati (pronounced fuh-tee) means Daddy in German.

God bless you!