The Bishop's Rose

Yes, nothing has a special rose in honor of the Bishop. It has been flourishing this summer, and blooms immediately off the main stone patio where nothing can view it while writing and editing. Since the Bishop always asks nothing to pray for him, nothing has this beautiful reminder from the Lord.

The Bishop's rose is an old-fashioned garden rose, with deep, musk fragrance. Pink is a color of love, and the Bishop has great love for his flock. Nothing admires his wisdom and brilliance, and what tremendous stamina! The Lord gives what His bishop requires, in all matters.

The Bishop's homily at 5 p.m. Mass emphasized our choice to be made daily in many encounters and experiences. Do we choose the Kingdom of God which is Christ, or the kingdom of evil, or the kingdom of the world? The Bishop is able to preach extemporaneously, with depth and rich overtures to God, and with substantive background in the writings of the Holy Father and the saints.

His experience and spiritual range reminds nothing of the variations in petals on the Bishop's rose. Within the Bishop's center is a heart of concern, yet he reflects light of insights. Petals remain tight yet seeming delicately sensitive. But do not grab at the Bishop with rudeness and disrespect! The Bishop's rose has multitudinous thorns on its many stems.

Nothing is quite content to pray for its Bishop, and to tend his rose in the Mary Gardens of Agnus Dei. This evening, nothing decided it would be best to verify what is to be done with the voodoo head, since there were differing modes as to its disposal. So the Bishop found it rather interesting, briefly being briefed as to the bizarre events. He then said to use holy water, pray and burn it. Took nothing five dousings with gasoline to burn that voodoo head, and then placed the ashes in front of the blessed St. Michael the Archangel statue.

How great is our Church! Nothing reflects upon the goodness of God to have brought nothing into His Holy Catholic Church where any experiences within the Kingdom of God, that deal with supernatural warfare or sideways crosses or mortal sins or spiritual or Scriptural matters of any type--are known, and advice and answers available.

The Bishop smiled some, in a kind of acceptance that nothing lives a bit of a bizarre life at times. The last time we spoke, nothing explained why it had to suddenly return from its private retreat--the trip of a lifetime, more akin to a Stephen King novel or Spielberg movie.
The life of a hermit is far from dull.

And the Bishop's rose, in its strength and repeated bloomings, reminds nothing of the beautiful gifts given by our bishops and priests--sacrifices of life and time and knowledge and protective concern for each soul in their care.