Feast of Our Lady of Fatima
May 13, 1956
This morning, the sun peeked through early, and Sister Mary Claire was already dressed and humming when I opened my eyes. She smiled and said, “Up you get, Kathy—it’s a day for celebrating!” I was out of bed in a flash, and Mini was already scratching at the door like she knew it was a special day too.
The air smelled like lilacs and dew, and it was already 60 degrees when we made our way down to the mailbox rock. Mini leapt right up, her tailless little bottom giving a wiggle as she looked down the gravel road. She gave a sharp bark the moment we heard the rumble of Robert’s old pickup, just like always. I climbed in first, then Sister, and then Mini—who nestled right between us, ears perked up and ready for church.
We meant to talk about the meditation Sister had opened to—about poor St. Thomas and how he missed Jesus’ first visit. But we kept getting pulled back into the joy of today’s feast—Our Lady of Fatima! It’s hard to talk about unbelief when your heart is full of light.
Sister reminded us that in 1917, on this very day, our Blessed Mother appeared to **three little shepherd children—Lucia, Jacinta, and Francisco—**in the fields of Portugal. She wore white brighter than the sun and asked them to pray the Rosary every day, offer little sacrifices for sinners, and love Jesus with all their hearts. Sister’s eyes glowed when she told the story, and I could almost see the scene in my mind. Even Robert, who doesn’t talk much in the morning, nodded and said, “That’s a real gift, that is.”
At Mass, Father LeRoy gave a brief homily on Thomas’s unbelief. He said there’s a warning in that story for all of us—about missing out on graces when we hold back or try to do things our own way. But after Communion, he gently turned our hearts back to Our Lady, saying her message at Fatima is as needed now as it ever was: prayer, penance, and peace.There was a little statue of Our Lady on the altar, and someone had placed a crown of fresh daisies on her head. It was so simple and beautiful.
In the afternoon, we went back for a special talk on Fatima. Father told us about the Miracle of the Sun, when thousands of people watched it spin and dance in the sky. Even the newspapers had to report it. It made me think of Thomas again—how he wouldn’t believe unless he saw it with his own eyes. I wonder if he would’ve believed at Fatima? Maybe. I like to think so.
Later, Mini and I walked down to the cave. The grass was warm beneath my feet, and the little stream murmured like a lullaby. We stopped at the grotto and knelt in front of Mary’s statue. I told her about my day and set a few wild violets at her feet. The cave felt peaceful and safe, like it always does when I’m with her.
Here is the little prayer I whispered:
Dear Mary,
Thank you for coming to Fatima to teach us how to love your Son better.
I want to be brave like Lucia, Jacinta, and Francisco, and to pray like they did, even when it’s hard.
Help me not to be like Thomas when he doubted, but to believe and trust Jesus always.
Please watch over Sister Mary Claire, Mini, Robert, and all the people we love.
Tell Jesus I love Him with my whole heart.
Love,
Kathy
No comments:
Post a Comment