Last week, a woman in a Catholic bookstore literally handed me a saint.

She came from behind the counter holding a golden reliquary containing a first class relic of little Therese Martin, now St. Thérèse of Lisieux. “Go ahead and take it. Venerate it. Bring into to the chapel with you and pray with it. She’s been working so many miracles lately…” and with that, the woman disappeared behind the counter and busied herself with her work. 

Taking the woman’s suggestion to heart, I left my items on the counter and proceeded to the chapel for a heart-to-heart with Jesus and His Little Flower. There, I poured my troubled heart and all it’s cares into the listening ear of an old friend.

You see, St. Thérèse and I have a long history. In fact, as I knelt in that chapel, memories came flooding back to a day over 22 years ago, when my friendship with her began in that very place. I was a ten-year-old newly minted Catholic, fresh out of the baptismal font. My knowledge of the saints and faith was nonexistent at that time, so trips to the Catholic bookstore were welcome opportunities to learn about the new gift of my faith.

It was like opening a box at Christmas that never fully emptied. Each time I visited the store, I bought a new addition to saint book collection, including the one on St. Thérèse. And that is how she and I met for the first time.

I fell in love with St. Thérèse, her family, and her little way. She was relatable, beautiful, and simple. She was wise and full of life and somehow managed to become the patroness of priests and missionaries without ever leaving her convent’s doorstep. The altar to St. Therese at the nearby Carmelite Monastery was where I learned the “pick a rose” prayer and I prayed it – over and over again.

There was just one problem: no matter how many times or how devoutly I prayed that prayer, I never received a rose. Never! For years I would pray that novena prayer for various intentions, starting and stopping on different feast days, but to no avail. “I don’t need a shower of roses… even just one would do!”

As a younger Catholic, I felt a bit snubbed.  And as an adult, I learned that it’s not about the roses. The way the saints speak to us means little if we’re too busy looking for signs to hear their voice. I learned that St. Thérèse is with me, with or without the roses. The Little Flower, then, became a friend in different seasons of my life.

And here she was, in the old familiar bookstore, renewing that friendship once again. And there I was, kneeling in the same place I had once began this long and  complicated friendship, casting myself into her care, now blissfully unaware of roses or any signs that she heard me. I knew she had.

I walked out of the chapel feeling like I had won the lottery that day, my heart bursting with the universality of my faith, “Isn’t being Catholic uh-mazing?”

The relic was restored to its rightful owner and the woman behind the counter and I shared our St. Thérèse stories. She shared her own long-standing friendship with the saint and how she had been given bouquets of roses in response to her prayers over the years. I smiled inside and out as she told me the story… “Oh yes. Some people receive roses,” I mused.

I had forgotten.

“St. Thérèse is very generous with you,” I said, perceiving that I too, was receiving grace through her. We parted friends that day and I returned to the register to complete my purchase.

As I turned to leave that evening, my bag filled with goodies and my heart filled with gratitude, I saw before me an elderly nun, walking my way. On her face was a smile that outshined the sun and in her hands, stretched forth before me – was a single rose. A perfect rose. A rose.

“I think you need this rose today” she said with a twinkle in her eye. “Remember, He is always with you, even in the darkness.”

Oh, dear little Thérèse – my sister and my friend! Here was the rose, in the most unexpected and unplanned moment in our friendship! You waited for me to forget about it before giving it to me. And you came to me in a season of discouragement to refresh my soul.

If you are going through a hard time and want to know your prayer is heard, then share this rose with me. It is yours, too, for it represents every prayer you think He does not answer, when in fact, He treasures every word. Take this rose to your heart and know that your prayers are heard, even when the silence seems deafening. Know that your faithfulness will be rewarded and He will speak to you – with or without a rose.

Love, Mary

**Aside Note: I have been sitting with this blog post for several months, not quite sure about publishing it, but I can think of NO better day than the feast of St. Therese to share how her intercession and friendship has blessed my life and walk with Christ. So, to my home girl- happy feast day!**

“Your will be done, Lord. If this is not your will, please shut the door.”

This was the simple but bold prayer we blurted in a fit of trust as we drove away from the beautiful home that had captured our hearts as first-time home buyers. Though the location was several miles from where we had our sights set (and far beyond the borders of the parish community we had come to love), it was the type of house we could picture building a home and raising our family in.

“What do you think?” My husband asked as he gripped my hand with excitement. I couldn’t hide the smile in my voice as I responded, “I think we should make an offer…”

Riiiiingggg.

I looked down at my phone as our real estate agent’s name flashed across the caller ID.

“Hello?”

“Faith, it’s Steve. I’ve got some bad news….”

I felt my heart drop. Sure enough, God had shut the door, just as we’d asked Him to do, be it His will. Just ten minutes prior to our agent’s phone call, the sellers of this house we so adored accepted an offer from someone else.

Funny, I mused to myself, how disappointing an answered prayer can sometimes be.

And yet, it was the prayer we kept at the forefront of our home search as we continued onward. We knew in a market where homes were selling within just hours of being listed, we wouldn’t have the exorbitant amount of time we would normally take to sit and pray with a decision this big.

So, we moved forward, trusting God to guide us as we made decisions rather than waiting for Him to tell us which decisions to make. And guide, He did.

The next house we loved, we jumped at. We were the very first to look at it, and the first buyers to make an offer, which we truly believed to be a solid and fair one. “Shut the door, Lord, if this isn’t your will.”

We anxiously awaited for the seller to review the numerous offers he’d gotten, certain that ours would be the best. Four days later, our agent called us, sympathy in his voice as he told us they’d gone with another offer. Our search was back on.

By this point, I was disappointed and frustrated. We had looked at countless houses. We had made two strides forward on two different houses only to be set back at the beginning. This was not the fun, dreamy experience I imagined first time home-buying would be.

Even still, somewhere deep in my heart was a welling of gratitude and awe. We were trusting Jesus…and He was delivering, in a very tangible way.

The next “this is it” house we looked at felt different from the start. We went to the open house after Sunday mass. We were pleased by everything we saw and we felt willing to make a more aggressive offer than we had previously. We prayed, asking God to give us a dollar amount. He laid one on my heart. We called our agent and he drew up papers. I realized, on the drive home from signing them, that it was the feast day of St. Therese of Lisuex, a saint to whom I’ve had a long time devotion, and whose little way to Jesus has always inspired my own walk alongside Him.

We asked for her intercession and surrendered the outcome, whatever it may be, to the Lord.

That night, we got a call from our agent who exclaimed excitedly: “Congratulations, they’ve accepted your offer!”

I felt the praise lift from my heart to the Heavens.

Fast-forward several days- we received a call from our Inspector that there was a major issue with the layout of the duct work in the house that would need to be re-done in order for it to be safe to reside in the home. We felt our hearts sink as we braced for further disappointment. In short, we had to alter our offer on the home to one that was several thousand dollars less than our original offer, which meant there was a good chance the sellers would back out and put the home back on the market. We stood our ground with our offer, knowing we could not, in good conscience, buy the home unless we were certain we could obtain the necessary fixes. That evening, on our way home from a Matt Maher concert, our agent called us again. I could hear his smile through the phone. “Good news- they accepted your new offer.”

We arrived back to our rental home, thanked my sister-in-law for spending her evening babysitting Joe so we could attend the concert and settled in for the night. I was surprised to find a beautiful red rose sitting on our kitchen table in a glass of water…not putting the puzzle pieces together until the next day, I realized I had found the rose  within the hour of hearing the news from our agent that the house was still ours. I felt the goosebumps appear on my skin as I thought of St. Therese; we had asked for her intercession and there, on the day of our answered prayer, was a beautiful rose waiting for us- a tangible reminder for us of God’s faithfulness and nearness to even the smallest worries in our lives.

We have now been living in our sweet little home for half a year, despite other road bumps encountered before the deal was totally sealed (another post for another time) and could not be more grateful or blessed to be where we are at. We are nearer to my parents, to some of our best friends, to our Church Community…and over the past year have had the blessing of getting to know our next door neighbor, Ms. Barbara, who we have been able to help serve through some difficult transitions.

As in many other places in my life, I look back on the (literal) shut doors with gratitude, awe- humbled to have been able to witness the Holy Spirit moving so clearly in our chaotic discernment. Not only has this house become the safe-haven for our domestic Church, the place we pray and grow and learn together, but it is a physical reminder of what happens when we follow the example of saints like Therese and trust wholeheartedly in Jesus; when we step into His loving arms and relinquish our will and surrender the control we never really had to begin with, He provides.