Wild roses

One of my favorite songs to play on the piano is a piece by Edward McDowell called “To a Wild Rose.” It is simple and haunting. I love playing it.

Roses have always had an important presence in my life. My grandmother grew roses in her backyard. A picture of mission roses, taken in front of the historic San Fernando Mission near her home, hung in the spare room where my father, my brother, and I stayed after our parent’s divorce. Don’t tell anyone, but we would jump on the bed to see if we could get as high as that picture. We were very young.

Mission roses are special roses. They are Damascus roses, also known as the “Rose of Castile,” referring to the kingdom in Spain. The Damascus rose was brought to Europe from Syria when one of the leaders of the Second Crusade returned to his home from warring in the Middle East. These roses are used for their healing properties and for making rosary beads, which give off a nice scent when warmed by the hands of people holding them while saying their prayers.

During the Spanish colonization of California in the 1700s, Father Junipero Sera, founder of the California Catholic mission system, planted them in every mission he founded along the way, including the San Fernando mission.

A family history story tells a tale of the rose arbor at the home of my great-grand-Aunt Josefa Rodriquez y Duran in Newhall, California. Aunt Josie used to cook at a hotel in the area, where she was quite a popular chef. Members of the movie crew which filmed Tom Mix movies loved Josie’s cooking and would eat there whenever they were in town. (Tom Mix was one of Hollywood’s earliest western film stars in the days of black and white silent movies.) The crew encouraged Josie to ask for a raise, which promptly got her fired. Undaunted, she set up tables and chairs at her home and the crew would regularly eat at Josie’s. Ruth Mix, Tom’s daughter, had regular roles in his films. She also loved Aunt Josie’s rose arbor, and they filmed several scenes using that arbor as a backdrop.

Several sisters of Aunt Josie and my great-grandmother Felicita, all of whom were daughters of my great-great-grandfather Ramon Perea had some form of ”Rose” in their names: Maria Rosarita Susana, Rosaria Maralin, Maria Francisca Rosairo, Maria Rosaria Bacelina, and Rosa B. Ramon’s mother was also named Maria Rosario Sanchez. Roses everywhere!

Living in Alaska, I love seeing wild roses by the side of the road and along the edge of the forests. Those in my “yard” produce enough petals each season to fill my herbal tea stash for a year, as well as providing a few berries to experiment with in the kitchen. Alaska’s wild roses look similar to the Damascus roses but are not as full of petals nor as large. They are so common, they are often overlooked as just part of the natural landscape.

People are like roses: some are well-tended and noticed by all. Others are smaller, blending into the landscape, often overlooked and neglected.

I knew some “wild roses” like that once. A friend of mine and I decided that our sons and their friends needed something to do. As the nearest Cub Scout group was 30 miles away, we decided to start our own den.

We began to tend the “wild roses” on our own, often involving community members to help them earn various badges. We organized a food bank collection drive with the help of their teachers. Each classroom competed to see who could gather the most canned or boxed goods in a week, and we provided an ice cream party for the winner. Teachers helped us by coordinating classroom activities with badge requirements. We even put together a one-day summer camp at a small lake in the mountains nearby, during which a volunteer life guard was on hand to help them earn their swimming badge.

An incident at that summer camp really touched my soul. One of the boys had been placed in foster care as a very young child because of abuse and neglect. He had developed a fear of water. As a toddler, he had endured being held under water over and over as a punishment. Earning a swimming patch would be impossible, but I wanted to include him somehow. So this boy and I held onto the side of the dock together and went along it inch by inch, deeper and deeper, until we got to the end and were treading water. Now we faced the biggest challenge. I asked him if he would quickly dunk his head, by his own free will, just one time. After several tense tries, he succeeded. We spent about an hour in the water that day but as far as I was concerned, this little wild rose had accomplished more than all the other boys combined. He did not earn a badge that day, but he earned something more valuable. He learned that he could overcome anything with persistence, patience, and a bit of courage. Last time I saw him he had a wife, a child, and a good job.

In Matthew 25:40, Jesus says “Verily I say unto you, Inasmuch as ye have done it unto one of the least of these my brethren, ye have done it unto me.”

Do you know any wild roses in your life? With a little help and kindness one might transform into a Damascus rose right before your eyes.

Karen Murray is a member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, experiencing life as a wife, mother, grandmother, family historian, author, and political activist.