happy cinco de mayo

Our Lady of Guadalupe with Roses.

The image is a framed picture on the sidewalk. The roses, the most beautiful arrangement I have ever seen, were brought by one of the pray-ers, Jim, who is a classical percussionist by trade. Jim, an Episcopalian, actually, brought the roses in for Our Lady.

The roses were given to him by the mother of one of his students, on the occasion of his retiring from that particular orchestra. The family is Korean, and the arrangement of roses contained at least two dozen, arranged in something that appeared to be a flame. They were uniformly and vitally fuscia. They were perfect.

The family, Jim explained, is "divided." In order to give the children an opportunity at a better future, the father stayed in Korea to work. The mother and children came to America, where the percussionist daughter obtained a full scholarship to study. Something about America brings out the best in people the world over.

The effort that went into that arrangement of roses was obvious -- such a labor of love. Appreciation, no doubt, for the effort Jim makes for his students. And he brought them in this morning, the morning when we would all be praying rosaries on the sidewalk.

The beauty of those roses, the honor and devotion and sacrifice of that family, seem to grow when offered in honor of Our Lady, for her beauty, her honor, her devotion, her sacrifice.

There is a fortress of love that is invisible. Even at an abortion provider's office. Life amidst death. God is at work.

A Hispanic lady walk by us this morning and thanked us in Spanish.