CROWN OF ROSES

                                                            By Suzanne Goloy-Lanot

“Whee, I’m going to a wedding!” Joetta exclaimed as she twirled in her white lace dress. “Who’s getting married, Mommy?”

“No one, dear,” Mommy said, fiddling with pink carnations and baby’s breath.

Joetta frowned. “How can there be a wedding if no one’s getting married?”

“Because it’s not a wedding,” Mommy said.

“Then what is it?” Joetta asked, furrowing her brows.

“You’ll find out later,” said Mommy, placing the garland of flowers on Joetta’s head.

Joetta smiled at herself in the mirror. “Am I a flower girl?”

“Yes, dear,” Mommy said. “But not at a wedding.”

“I don’t understand,” Joetta said, folding her arms.

“You will when we get to the church,” Mommy said, handing Joetta a bouquet of flowers just like the ones on her head.  

 “I’m a flower girl at the church but it’s not a wedding. How can that be?” asked Joetta.

“Just be patient,” Mommy said, grabbing her purse and keys. “We have to go now or we’ll be late.”

As Joetta sat in the car, her thoughts swirled like petals in a whirlwind. She was a flower girl but it wasn’t a wedding. It was at the church but it wasn’t a wedding. It seemed like a wedding but it wasn’t a wedding. Her head hurt just thinking about it.

When they entered the church, Joetta’s eyes widened. Flower girls just like her formed two lines. One girl at the end held a pillow with red, orange, and yellow roses intertwined in a wreath like a crown. A taller girl stood behind her.

 Joetta’s eyes darted from the crown of roses to the statue of Mother Mary. Then she tugged on Mommy’s arm. “I know what it is,” she whispered.

Mommy bent over and listened.

“The crown of roses on the pillow will be placed on Mother Mary’s head to honor her,” said Joetta.

“Yes,” Mommy said. “It’s called the May Crowning.”

“Of the best queen,” Joetta added. “The Queen of Heaven and Earth!”

Then Joetta watched the two girls walk up to the statue of Mother Mary. As the taller girl crowned Mother Mary, the choir sang out in praise. Joetta followed the other girls. When her turn came, she laid her bouquet at Mother Mary’s feet.

After the ceremony, Joetta beamed up at Mommy. “It’s more beautiful than a wedding,” she said. “Someday I’ll place the crown of roses on Mother Mary’s head!”