St. Rose of Lima, Pray for Nothing

This is a long distance swim.

Made it to noon Mass, read Ezekiel and the Psalm and Prayers of the Faithful. Confessor spoke of St. Rose of Lima. Later he told nothing she was patron saint of gardeners and was quite a mystic.

Nothing remembered reading her biography. She was called Rose from birth since a mystical rose appeared at or out of her mouth. The confessor said also that she grew beautiful roses in her garden, and although her parents would not allow her to become a nun, she lived in the tool shed in their back garden, and made it her hermitage.

Nothing asked the confessor if noon Mass meant that was the only Mass for the day. The confessor smiled and explained that he did not mean that nothing could not go to more than one Mass, but that since it was struggling, to make go to one Mass a day if at all possible. So nothing was very relieved, and will rest and go back to the 5 p.m. Mass.

Next nothing asked the confessor if it could speak to him. This was after Mass, and yet there was a woman and young man who nothing had noticed when coming into the chapel, and they stood out to nothing, and they were going to meet with the confessor, and nothing sees who they are. So the confessor listened while walking out, and nothing's lungs seized and it could not explain, anyway. Other than it garbled and went off, realizing the Lord keeps nothing to Himself.

So it might try to explain some things again, or maybe not.

Walking into the front door of Agnus Dei, here was this unusual rose that had two tones on it. None of the other blooms on this huge rose bush have this dual coloration, and never have. Nothing had been asking St. Rose's help all the drive back from Mass, and here was Rose's little touch of assurance. It is so beautiful--and very different. Unique among all the other roses on that bush. Won't see a bi-color rose often, if ever again.

It is how nothing must be. Bi-color in essence.

There is no one who can help nothing discern, at least not for now. So nothing must continue on its routine, and pray, and accept. Sometimes it seems like the devil is very much having his input, too. Yes, nothing has considered that indicators of the devil are in this trial, the mind paralyzed at times, in self. The da the other day asked, "Why doesn't the Bishop help you? Didn't he get his doctorate in such matters? He ought to know what is going on, what to say." But it seems that the Lord is dealing with nothing on it own, drawn off, alone, and yet has sent in a couple of angels via the blog site, to pray and just sort of keep in touch now and then. And this lovely rose.

Nothing didn't want to clip that one from the bush, but did clip a floribunda rose in honor of St. Rose, and placed it in a cut-glass vase, beside the statue of St. Martin de Porres. They were friends, lived in Lima, Peru at the same time, and although Rose died at age 31, prior to Martin's death, they were anam cara: soul friends. (Nothing doesn't know how to get the photo into this spot on the blog, so it is up with the rose, from St. Rose.)

Nothing was thinking about the net in the waters, and somehow thought perhaps it represents nothing's intention in writing, or one of them. To share, some of the view from elsewhere. The progression and the climb. Perhaps it is too cumbersome, and not a responsibility of nothing.

Then it thought of the Mass, and how it is nothing's only connection with the TCW. And how there are not going to be distractions otherwise from that world or in it. Nothing thought about its writing of the last distraction from the TCW, and how it remained like dried vomit on nothing's brain. And perhaps nothing shouldn't have described it for anyone else to read, as then it would become as dried vomit on others' minds. Yet, it is something to behold, and to graphically realize that we can be such cruel and insensitive distractions to others at Mass, and from the TCW. But nothing will not look back, and will not describe any more atrocious distractions, for it is not of the MCW (mystical Catholic world).

A skype call came, and so nothing floated quickly into that world, and interacted and laughed with its grandson who calls nothing Gaga. Well, it is a perfect name for nothing, out of the mouth of a babe.

But the sickness continues, the pain and the being born and borne into the MCW, and that, at least, nothing was able to garble out to its confessor. It wasn't a setting in which he could truly listen, and besides, it is not TCW matters. And what difference?

So now to edit some more, to be grateful for however God is going to work things out, pray for a couple who has house lookers at 4 today, and need much to sell. And be thankful for the touch from St. Rose who once said that the only means up the ladder to heaven is by way of the cross.