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Posts tagged ‘rose’

The Fragrance of the Rose


The fragrance always remains in the hand that gives the rose.

– Heda Bejar


The Rose Just Is

These roses under my window make no reference to former roses or to better ones. They are what they are; they exist with God today. There is not time to them. There is simply the rose.

– Ralph Waldo Emerson

Just a rose

Just a rose

What Do Calvary and Bethlehem Have in Common?

And on Christmas Eve, this simple thought:

I searched God’s lexicon to fathom “Bethlehem” and “Calvary.” It simply said: See “Love.”

– Gordon Gilsdorf

How does one spell love?

How does one spell love?

What Shall We Plant Today?

sr_april_rose_2We plant seeds that will flower as results in our lives, so best to remove the weeds of anger, avarice, envy and doubt, that peace and abundance may manifest for all.

-Dorothy Day

May the seeds you sow bring forth loveliness.

Thoughts on Hope – 6

The case for hope has never rested on provable facts or rational assessment. Hope by its very nature is independent of the apparatus of logic.

– Norman Cousins


The Magdalen, a Garden and This

olmc_rose2Today’s Lenten poem from Education for Justice is by Kathleen O’Toole.

The Magdalen, a Garden and This

She who is known by myth and association
as sinful, penitent, voluptuous perhaps…
but faithful to the last and then beyond.

A disciple for sure, confused often with Mary,
sister of Lazarus, or the woman caught
in adultery, or she who angered the men

by anointing Jesus with expensive oils.
She was the one from whom he cast out seven
demons—she’s named in that account.

Strip all else away and we know only
that she was grateful, that she found her way
to the cross, and that she returned

to the tomb, to the garden nearby, and there,
weeping at her loss, was recognized,
became known in the tender invocation

of her name. Mary: breathed by one
whom she mistook for the gardener, he
who in an instant brought her back to herself—

gave her in two syllables a life beloved,
gave me the only sure thing I’ll believe
of heaven, that if it be, it will consist

in this: the one unmistakable
rendering of your name.

Source: “The Magdalen, a Garden and This” by Kathleen O’Toole from America
Magazine Vol. 186 No. 11 (4/1/2002).



Today on Holy Thursday we remember, not only the Last Supper, but also Jesus agonizing vigil in Gethsemane. So today’s poem from Education for Justice is by Mary Oliver.


The grass never sleeps.
Or the rose.
Nor does the lily have a secret eye that shuts until morning.

Jesus said, wait with me. But the disciples slept.

The cricket has such splendid fringe on its feet,
and it sings, have you noticed, with its whole body,
and heaven knows if it even sleeps.

Jesus said, wait with me. And maybe the stars did, maybe
the wind wound itself into a silver tree, and didn’t move,
the lake far away, where once he walked as on a
               blue pavement,
lay still and waited, wild awake.

Oh the dear bodies, slumped and eye-shut, that could not
keep that vigil, how they must have wept,
so utterly human, knowing this too
must be a part of the story.

Source: “Gethsemane” from Thirst, by Mary Oliver. Boston: Beacon Press,