Sunday, January 31, 2010
I have a dear friend who writes these wonderful blogs. She lives in Albuquerque, NM and has many family stories she shares with us. The latest one was about her aunt who was visited by St. Theresa, however, I'm not sure which one, St. Theresa of Avila or St. Therese, the Little Flower.
Personally, my fav is The Little Flower. She was a ballsy broad who lived into the late 19th c. She was a cloistered Carmalite nun who never performed miracles, a must do if your on the saint list, and died very young at 24 years. However, as a children growing up in Catholic schools, we read many biographies of the saints, Therese being the "rock star" of little girls, we all wanted to be like her, or at least try. I never came close...remember the spitting into my sister's milk incidents and having to go to confession every time I did that or other little "mishaps" my mother found out about...my siblings ratted me out many times!! LOL Well, the closest I came was choosing her for my confirmation name.
So the story goes that she never performed miracles, but she did, right in our cathedrals' shrine to her. My Dad would drop us off in the morning at our school, St. Patrick's, and we would play outside till the Boss nun would ring her brass bell for us to stand still and perform the Pledge of Allegiance in the play ground, then into our classrooms for prayers then work.
One particular morning, my friends and I were playing a game before school was called to order, and these kids came up to us and told us the St. Therese statue in the church was crying. Being the skeptic, I just told them they were crazy and how could a chunk of plaster be crying (I was really bad about that stuff). Ok, so I caved and went inside the small shrine already filled with other students. I used to visit that shrine plenty of times because I liked her story...like I said, she was ballsy. There was also a small glass enclosed "relic" on the stand. That just fascinated me; I imagined people taking chunks of her liver or spleen after her death to distribute to all the churches who wanted a piece of her. Morbid, yes, but I would just let my imagination get the best of me!! LOL
Back to the miracle: so there we stood, watching her and waiting for her to do something. As I was ready to turn away, heard the Boss Bell, there were sounds coming from the crowd...she was crying and she moved her cross laden with roses. She smiled at us and I she spoke to us, telepathically. She told us to continue praying for the world and peace...that we were going to be the generation of many changes and there would be much evil from these changes. Wow, after we all calmed down, we compared what we heard in our brains, and the messages were all the same...spooky huh??? We were told to get our little butts into school by the nazi nuns and pretty much of the day, was buzzing about the little miracle many of us witnessed. Of course, the fish stories began...she handed one of the students her cross, she threw her roses at us, her lips moved, she did cartwheels, you know how that goes??
We were told by the faculty and staff not to speak of it ever again...yea right! And that it was a case of mass hysteria...whatever!!! Later on in the morning, we all lined up for daily mass and as we passed the little shrine on our way into church, there was the principal nun, a Franciscan monk and a Jesuit priest standing there just staring at the statue. So mass hysteria, right??? Me thinks there was more to the story, but again, we were told during the short sermon that we were to discard everything we "imagined" that morning.
So do I believe that saints talk to the humble masses, yeppers...been there, saw that!!! My mother has a 1-800 # to St. Jude...he's done all kinds of wonderful things for her and us. When I was going through my divorce, one night I was crying out of sorrow, fear, you name it, I was crashing. All of a sudden, I felt this peacefulness coming from within me...almost like a warm light. I smelled roses, this lovely fragrance coming from no where. I continued crying, but out of joy and love...that's how I felt. Funny, I had experienced this before when I was desperate to get help for my autistic son, but I didn't realize it then.
I went to the shrine the next day. By then, St. Therese was moved out of her little room and into the main church where she's stuck in a corner in the back...oh and no relic...that's gone too. So I laid a single rose on her little alter and thanked her for being there for me.
So if I'm asked that I believe in all this stuff, I'll vote a beg YES!! So you're saying, "Poor Georgina, she's finally lost all her gray cells to menopause," and yes, I've lost a few here and there...my cells are spread all over as a matter of fact, but I'm not hysterical, a religious zealot (on the contrary, I'm not religious at all), or smoking the the little glass pipe, I'm just one of those lucky people who was visited by a great lady who I needed at the time. She's still around, watching, intervening for me and messing with my scent of smell, but thank God she is!! Peace out.
Posted by Georgina at 10:46 AM