We have many Marys in our home.
Perhaps unnerving to the casual visitor, there is a life-sized statue of Maria Rosa Mystica in our sitting room. She is lovely! and a gift from my mom & dad (Deacon George) that I treasure. Over the mantle in our family room is a framed image of the Holy Family: inspiration to the many wrestling children and DVD-viewers that tumble through that room. By the kitchen sink is a small porcelain statue: my kitchen madonna. And finally, in our bedroom, (home base for evening prayer, the daily read-aloud and many quiet–ha–moments of folding laundry), is my statue of Our Lady of Fatima.
We really do like Mary around here.
So when the opportunity came to see the Pilgrim Virgin Statue of Our Lady of Fatima, we took it. The Cathedral was full-to-bursting with hundreds of Catholic school kids from the Twin Cities and surrounding areas—all assembled to pray, sing, and peer curiously at the mystical, miraculous presence at the front of the church.
After the liturgy we were invited to move closer, and so my own small group of five from Our Lady of the Angels Homeschool approached the statue. We waited quietly while a little girl in a blue uniform got her picture taken with Mary. Tout d’un coup (as we French say) I saw the somber expression on Our Blessed Mother’s face become a broad, beaming smile. I assure you that I did! And then, in the midst of this surreal, is-this-really-happening moment, my oldest son grabbed my arm and exclaimed, “Mommy! Do you see? The statue of Mary is smiling!”
To their dismay, none of my other children saw this. The story, though, is retold often—especially on these beautiful Marian feasts when we are reminded of the power of her intercession, and of her love.
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