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This past weekend I had the honor and privilege of
serving as one of two Spiritual Advisors for the Women’s fall Cursillo for the
Diocese of Green Bay. The Cursillo was
held at Most Precious Blood Parish in New London.
Now, I am aware of and on guard against clergy
privilege. We are all pilgrims on the
way together. But the obvious reality
when serving the spiritual needs of a group of fifty women for the entire weekend
is the necessity of having separate sleeping quarters. Was it my fault that my brother deacon and I
would be housed in the parish rectory with a private bedroom and bathroom while
the women slept in dormitory style cots in the school gym, and shared the school
shower rooms?
I arrived early Thursday evening, stashed my suitcase
in the rectory and headed down to where soon the ladies would be checking in. The route I had to follow took me through the
sacristy, and through the church. There
was still enough late day sun illuminating the stained-glass windows that faced
west to bring a warm glow to the church interior.
As I made my way, I passed a statue on my right. I walked on for another ten feet or so, but I
felt a compulsion to stop. I turned back
to look at the statue. It is a beautiful
rendering of St. Therese of Lisieux.
This woman, known affectionately as “the little flower” discovered her
vocation to be “love itself” vowed to spend her Heaven, doing good for those
souls on earth. She was depicted in the
statue, as she typically is, with a spray of roses. Many people who have sought her intercession have
reported receiving a rose along with an answer to their prayers.
I approached the statue and placed a hand on her
foot. I looked into the statue’s
eyes. I was moved to say, “Someone on
this Cursillo weekend needs to know how much God loves them. Won’t you please send her a rose?”
On Saturday morning, as the group entered together into
the cafeteria for breakfast, there, on every plate, was a rose. I silently said a prayer of
thanksgiving. I guess the Little Flower
wanted to let everyone, including the grizzled old deacon how much God loves us
all.
On Sunday evening, my cousin Carl, whose wife Marlene was
one of the leadership team members for the weekend, told me a little more about
the roses. He knew the couple. They had decided to send all of those living
and leading the Cursillo a flower as an anonymous gesture of love and support. They stopped by the florist to purchase carnations. The florist was all out of carnations, but
they explained that they had purchased too many roses and they needed to sell
them at a bargain price while they were still beautiful. And so, they bought roses.
Now, the skeptics reading this far can simply shake
their head, scoff, and conclude that it was all just a sequence of coincidence. But those of faith knows that many “miracles”
come through the generosity of fellow believers. He works through us and has throughout
salvation history. I know that there
were flesh and bone people who brought the roses, but I am convinced that there
was a supernatural inspiration and shaping of circumstances as well. I saw into the eyes of women this weekend who encountered
the tangible love of God. I
believe. Thank you, Therese.
His Peace <><
Deacon Dan
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