A story of roses and comfort
When I was seven, I was confirmed in the Catholic church. During the process, I somehow missed the memo that I was supposed to pick a patron saint. The truth is that at seven I don’t think I knew the names of any saints. We were standing in a line and one by one people were telling Father Noonan who they had picked for their patron saint. Not only did I not have the name of a saint ready, but I also was terrified of Father Noonan, so at that point, my day was not going well. I tapped the shoulder of the woman in front of me and asked her who she was picking for her patron saint. She said, “St. Theresa.” I know you are not surprised to learn that St. Theresa is now my patron saint.