I’m reminded of a story. While he was living in Paris, poet Philippe Rousseau every afternoon used to take a walk in the park near his apartment. Each day he passed by an old lady begging along a footpath.
Sitting on a bench, the elderly lady had no expression on her face. She was always silent and showed no signs of gratitude for the money given to her by those that passed by.
One day, the poet strolled along with his girl friend, Marie, and much to her surprise when they came upon the old lady, Philip didn’t give the woman anything. He noticed Marie’s surprise and anticipating her question he just knew she was about to ask, he said, “A person must give something to her heart and not to her hand.”
The next day Philip met Marie at the bench where the old lady always sat silently. He had a small, half-opened rose in his hand. Naturally, Marie suspected it was for her. “How thoughtful of him!” she thought to herself. But, no, it wasn’t for her. He laid the rose in the hand of the beggar lady.
She looked at the rose, smiled, stood up, reached out, took Philip’s hand and kissed it. She clutched the rose to her heart and then quickly disappeared. She stayed away for a whole week. Then she came back, but she sat there as lifeless and cold as before.
Finally, seeing her back on the bench, Marie asked, “What do you think she lived on during that time?” Philip answered, “On the rose. On the rose – on that which was given to her heart."
We are reminded of all of this when we pray the rosary with every bead being a rose and then a heartbeat felt and heard for her Son, and for us.
Deacon David Pierce
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