When she was three months old, a rose was seen to hover in the air above the infant's head...and descend to kiss her cheek. Her mother promised never again to call her daughter Isabel, but only by the name Rose.
As she grew, Rosa de Lima's beauty drew admirers and suitors alike. Her mother insisted on social visits and fine clothes, hoping for a good match. But Rosa wanted none of it. She resolved to disfigure her own lustrous eyes by rubbing pepper into them. When her horrified mother warned she might have ruined her sight, Rosa answered that she would much rather be blind than continue to use her eyes in beholding the vanities of the world.
Yet Rosa was no enemy of beauty itself. In her father's garden, she cultivated flowers of the rarest hues and perfumes—blooms that often appeared out of season, as though the garden kept its own calendar. She sold them at market to support her struggling family.
Her needlework was the same: embroidered in silk so fine that it was whispered she had received the aid of angels.
Of her work she said simply: "It is but a little trade, certainly, but my heavenly Spouse's goodness makes the profits large." This botanical lip oil bears her name: a small, beautiful thing, cultivated with care.
St. Rose of Lima, pray for us! Help us to know the difference between vanity and the beauty You ask us to tend. May we cultivate what is good with patient hands, offer it freely, and trust that even a little trade, blessed by You, yields more than we imagined.