marycatherinethomas

Our home in San Diego overlooked a major freeway. There was noise from the vehicles day and night. Right beside the freeway was a landfill. When we first bought our house, the landfill was a site for bulldozers and heavy equipment. In a few years it looked almost idyllic sitting beside the never-ending traffic. Where bulldozers once roamed the land, grasses grew, along with the California poppies in the spring.

Our family room looked out on the freeway and frequently I would stand at the window watching the vehicles whizzing down the road. This is also the room where I would have my quiet time and prayer time.

I had a season in my life while living there, that I struggled with my first name, Mary. That sounds silly, I know, but it was a real struggle for me.

I was raised a Catholic, and my parents named me after my aunt Jane. She too was Mary Catherine, but my Mom once told me they called her Jane because she was a plain Jane. Not a winning argument in me liking the name Mary.

My family called me Cathi. I was used to that. I like it. I had a rude awakening when I entered first grade though. Being a Catholic school there were many Mary’s. Mary Kay, Mary Ann, Mary Beth, you get the idea. Each of the girls was called by their full name. I was just called Mary. I dislike being called Mary. It’s a beautiful name, and I am finally beginning to like it, but I prefer my full name or Cathi.

It was during this season in 1991 when I was wrestling with God about my name. Often during my quiet time I would hear Him speak to me about my name. I wrote in my journal one day in October of that year that I need to accept that I am Mary. I needed to accept who I am. I continued to write in my journal the following: “You need to accept who you are. Just as you are a Rose- you are a wild one, not cultivated and pruned and restricted. You are an individual”. I remember after writing this looking out the family room window imagining a wild rose growing on the hillside of the landfill. A wild rose that no one really notices, but is there. I saw the rose as pink, I don’t know why.

Recently I went back in my journals and saw this entry. I went online and researched pink roses. Wild roses are likely to be pink; they are a symbol of love and admiration, and a carrier of secrets.

So many years ago I heard about wild roses. I had a deck full of cultivated roses, and I never thought of a wild rose. Years ago our Lord was telling me that I may not be noticed, but He noticed me. He loves me and He knows me.

Isaiah 43:1b says, ““Do not be afraid, for I have ransomed you. I have called you by name; you are mine.”

I rest knowing that I am His.

Roses became a part of my life during our last few days living in Winter Harbor Maine. Below is the story of how that happened.

A group of ladies in Winter Harbor joined together each Tuesday morning for a Bible Study. We all lived transient lives, depending on the Navy to give us orders of where we would live and also let us know when it was time to retire.

Whenever one of us were retiring or changing duty stations, the girls in Bible Study would do what had become a traditional farewell gathering. Of course, we would eat (that’s a given), then we would each sign a book for the person leaving. There would be prayer for her and lots of tears and hugs. Parting is never easy, even when you know it is a part of the life you have chosen for yourself.

My going away party was no different. Brunch was served, book was signed and then the prayer time. One women had written a lovely note to me as she had felt God had given her. It talked about my life being a rose and that in our new life in San Diego I would blossom into what the Lord had planned for me. Pretty wonderful, right? I smiled, content in what I had heard. And then… there is always continuations, those three dots in your life, like waiting for a shoe to drop. The other shoe dropped shortly after that.

Another woman, while praying after the letter had been read cleared her throat and began speaking. I will never forget her words. She said, “And as a rose has many thorns for it’s beauty, there are many thorns awaiting you.”

Now, you would think that would deter me from lovingly following my husband cross country, a logical person would do so. Not me. Acts 21:11 says, “He came over, took Paul’s belt, and bound his own feet and hands with it. Then he said, “The Holy Spirit declares, ‘So shall the owner of this belt be bound by the Jewish leaders in Jerusalem and turned over to the Gentiles.’” (NLT) I had often wondered how Paul could continue his journey into Jerusalem, and yet he did.

The night of my going away brunch we went to a movie, I can’t remember what it was because I was thinking about Paul going into Jerusalem knowing what awaited him. I was still wrestling with what had been said to me earlier. In between the popcorn, candy and soft drinks I realized that although my feet and hands had not been bound, I was facing the unknown.

A few days later, we packed our U-Haul and started our journey. Our plan at that time was to go to San Diego, my husband do his tour on his destroyer, and he would get out and go to Bible College. Our plan was 7 years and we would head back to Maine. Proverbs 16:9 says, ” We can make our plans, but the Lord determines our steps.” (NLT) Determine our steps He did. 28 years later we left San Diego.

Were there thorns awaiting me? Too many to count! Did I want to give up? Yes. Many times I found myself on my face pleading for God to remove things before me.

What I learned was strength, trust, prayer, and faith. Our God will never leave us. He is our constant source of strength.

May your day be filled with the goodness of our God.

Author: marycatherinethomas

What’s Up with the Roses? Part 2 He’s Called Me Rose

What’s Up With the Roses? Part 1 Background