a virgin a day, the fragrance of roses

years ago,

memories all mixed up in the 

fragrance of roses,

my mother and i traveled to mexico city

 to the basilica virgin de guadalupe.

fittingly the hotel was once a convent,  our room a nuns cell,

a single bed, penitence hard.

 by morning we were on a

 a local bus, 20 pesos to fulfill a dream.

chattering uniformed school children filled the isles,

mothers wrapped in rebozos cradling babies,

quiet husbands,

everyone curious with the two gringas

smiling radiantly on their familiar ride.

silently

crossing themselves

as we arrived;

one hundred hands folding origami  

peace doves in thin air. 

 we left the bus together,

a cluster of bright flowers thrown into a sea of devotees.

under the weight of 12 million worshipers a year,

Templo Expiatorio a Cristo Rey,

built between 1503 and 1709,

began to sink

...and in time a new basilica was erected.

as we wove our way silently inside the concrete walls,

my heart sank.

courting a vigil that bowed back

over five hundred years 

 i was not prepared for the carpeted,

ultra modern cavernous interior...

replete with moving sidewalk to glide each pilgrim

as if walking on water

beneath the most revered ancient textile in mexico.

yet, as we passed directly under the sacred cloth

there was a presence and peace that transcended all time.

yet it was when we walked the ancient cobblestones

around the enormous basilica to a small,

humble stone chapel that my heart flooded.

 here, juan diego lived out his entire life,

speaking of the virgin

to anyone who would lend an ear.

upon entering,

men and women paused

to carefully pluck one petal

from the enormous bounty of roses

spilling over a life size statue of juan diego.

they would hold the delicate cup of pink

to their lips while they prayed.

their breath,

a flame of devotion, filling the tiny vessel.

when their prayers were exhausted

 they took the infused petals

and rubbed them in utter adoration

over juan diego's marble

heart, mouth, eyes. 

imagine, being painted with prayer infused rose petals

for eternity.

i still have my small paper thin petal,

curled like a tiny fist holding tight

to peace. 

shrine from the series of

Serving Mary

vintage silver tray, glass, solder, paint, gold leaf, found objects

***

welcome to day seven.

may you carry the rose of compassion close to your heart.

Comments

[Spadoman]

What a beautiful story. What a fabulous memory you have. No wonder you are in love with Mexico and Gaudalupe. The rose petal is much like the sage and tobacco we use at the Sundance and other ceremonies, or the prayer ties we make. "We put our prayers into the pipe and pray as one"
You are up early today. Please make sure you get the rest you need. We all will wait for Mary as we need to. You are so kind to accomodate us. Then again, you may be as excited as we are to share our Virgins with each other.

Much Peace

[Hettienne Grobler]

Dear Rebecca, what a beautiful post. You filled my heart with such wonder and awe. you are so blessed to be able to have these beautiful vibrant and deeply spiritual experiences on your doorstep. I agree with Spadoman : do not let this commitment put too much strain on you - I know what that is like - we are so eager to share and to facilitate that we forget about our physical fragility. On another note : we are now three people from South Africa that will accompany you to SMA should it happen! blessings to you

[priti.lisa]

This is the most beautifully written line..one hundred hands folding origami

peace doves in thin air.
Wow.
♥♥♥

[Donna The Woodwife]

This really touched my heart - I felt as if I were there too - I would not have liked the modern parts of it either - yet even as everything changes everything stays the same. I too have a post today about Our Lady of Guadelupe and Juan Diego....

[QMM]

Everyday I am amazed and joyed by your posts Rebecca. I feel so blessed to be part of the meme. Your story reminds me the first time I visited The Alamo I was so disappointed. I envisioned it like it is shown in photos, large, alone on a hill. Of course that was a few hundred years ago. Now it is cramped down in San Antonio among the huge trees and ultra-modern office buildings. You are so blessed to be living in that part of our hemisphere.
QMM

[Sue Fox]

I will be looking for perfume for my daughter in law who holds child within, I will be thinking on you and roses!

With love always,

Sue x

[Paula Scott: Molokai Girl Studio]

I don't know how you manage to compose such in depth and moving posts each day, but you do. What an incredible story and to have been able to do it with your mother makes it even more special. Such presence.

[Ms. Moon]

I have never been to the cathedral where Mary's cloth is but I have wanted to go and I can't help but wonder if part of the peace and power of that place is not based (pun intended) on the ancient ruins of the Aztec temple upon which it was built.
This was a beautiful, beautiful post, rebecca. As all of yours are.
But this one really tugged my heart.

[Fran aka Redondowriter]

Thanks for sharing your story of going to the basilica with your mom all those years ago. You remember those details so well and I am touched you still have your rose petal. I've been there, too, but do not have the details like you described so when I think of being there, I'm going to remember your story, not the shards of my own visit. I do remember some people crawling on their news in the aisle. I don't remember Juan Diego's chapel. Hope you are feeling much better today.

[gayle]

Such a beautiful and interesting memory you weave. And the Serving Mary on the serving tray...........LOVE IT!!!!

[peggy gatto]

You took me on a special journey this morning, thank you!

[Alexa]

What a lovely memory—and your images are exquisite! Here's the line I like best from your beautiful post: "Imagine being painted with prayer-infused rose petals for eternity."

[Janie Mills]

Beautiful! Just beautiful!
I have posted my first of the Madonna series. Thank you for hosting!

[Noelle]

Dearest rebecca,
Surely the plucking of a rose petal from the feast of tiny pink roses gracing the statue of Juan Diego was a eucharistic experience for each one of these faithful pilgrims; the delicate cup of pink infused with the breath of saints transubstantiated to a spirit-filled aery energy that could then be offered once again to diego's heart, mouth and eyes for eternity. I love to think of you and your mother being a part of this Agape Feast of love with the Virgin, Juan Diego, and the many pilgrims of steadfast faith. Your shrine is a flame of devotion in itself, like a bright crimson candle in a dark night. Beautiful.
xoxox,
Noelle

[Queenie Believe]

Thank you for sharing your memories of the shrine of Our Lady of Guadalupe and the Juan Diego Chapel. The images you paint with your words are beautiful.
Have a great day.
Always, Queenie

[gemma]

You have opened many hearts. Mine included.
Your devotion is inspiring.

[jean]

o miss rebecca, your soul really shines with this one...your shrine is so gorgeous...

[Laurie Zuckerman]

Oh to be able to write like you do, Rebecca. So beautiful this story.
And even more powerful is your "Serving Mary" tray. Such a beauty!!

[Miss Robyn]

I would love to be able to create a shrine!
oh Rebecca, this post has reminded me of the days when I first stumbled across Our Lady.. I was walking in the bush near where I lived back then.. towards a grotto, to pray for a friend who had cancer.. I had my rosary in my hand and the most exquisite perfume of full blown roses, enveloped me. I was rooted to the spot and could not move as the perfume invaded all my senses. thankyou for the memories xo