Of Roses, Begonias, and Dirt

The "Spiritual Works of Mercy" are rarely spoken of these days. Still, for some of us men of old, they function as a steady and present guide in daily life. As a reminder, the Spiritual Works of Mercy are:

1) Convert the Sinner
2) Instruct the Ignorant
3) Counsel the Doubtful
4) Comfort the Sorrowful
5) Bear wrongs patiently
6) Forgive injuries
7) Pray for the Living and the Dead

These find their origin in the teachings of Jesus Christ, and in the consistent practice of the Catholic Church since apostolic times.

Of late, I have found myself especially drawn to praying for the dead. As I have mentioned recently, I have rediscovered my connection with my great-great grandfather. I have been visiting his grave -- and those of his immediate family over the last several days. I found myself cleaning off the faces of the gravestones, brushing dirt from his Civil War Veteran marker, and silently planting an American Flag in his honor and memory.

Somehow, I sense that he has been praying for me. I feel the power of his prayers guiding me to this long-ignored work of mercy.

Today, I went out and purchased potting soil, a small rose bush, and several red begonias, in order to prepare an arrangement for his grave site. For many people, this would not be a "blog-worthy" event; for me it was, I assure you, a definite first. I was so unsure of myself that I sought out a friendly looking female customer and showed her what I was thinking to buy, and asked her if would look alright. Her encouragement gave me the reassurance to make my way to the cash register!

I arrived home, and looked at it all -- with no real clue as to what to do next. My dad was great with things like this. He could grow yellow roses in Green Bay--in the dead of winter! He'd have them blooming on December 12th for the Feast of Our Lady of Guadalupe (my Irish dad's favorite feast).

I arranged everything within arms' reach in the bed of my pick-up, tore open the bag of topsoil, and then paused; what to do next? I took the planter-liner -- a thing that looked to me like an over-grown flower pot made out of pressed paper -- and doused it with water. Somehow, I decided that this would be a good thing; start it out wet!

Then I carefully removed the rose bush from its pot, and set it squarely in the middle of the liner. I packed potting soil around it, and tucked the begonias in a circle along the inside edge of the liner. Then I doused everything gently with fresh water, and stood back to have a look.

I nodded approvingly and said out-loud, "Yep, you can tell that I'm my father's son!" The arrangement looked exactly like ones my dad had fixed for the family graves for years-and-years before. I never knew that I was doing as he had done, until I had finished with it. So now, biting my lip and holding back some tears, I end up praying for my dear dad as well.

I think it interesting that I was aware of enjoying the feeling of the slightly moist soil on my hands as I worked it into place. I haven't done such things before, so in a sense it was a new experience. Usually, I am rather quick to wash any dirt from my hands -- feeling very uncomfortable--very dirty until I do.

But today, thinking of dear family members who have gone before me, and doing what small good thing I could do in prayerful commemoration, today...
I sense something very holy about roses, begonias, and dirt. Today I feel as though I have drawn closer to Him who fashioned the earth with His own hands.

Eternal Rest Grant unto Them, O Lord,
And let Perpetual Light shine upon Them.
May their Souls,
and the Souls of all the Faithful Departed,
Through Your tender Mercy
Rest in Peace. Amen.