During my stay in a monastery I used to go and sit at a small church in the cemetery, in the gardens. I will tell you something I saw there one morning:
From the small door of the garden, from where they take out the monks who are sewn into their cassocks to bury them, I saw a half-blind old monk coming. He went to the edge of the garden, where there was an almost completely dried out rose bush without any roses.
When he arrived there, he left a flower he had brought with him among the flowerless branches and leaves, and said: "Take this so you can have it, lest you be despised."
