Heaven's Messengers

On a glorious St. Patrick's Day morning, I settled down with my coffee and newspaper. Right off, I found a tale about a man whose life is as strange as any leprechaun’s. Instead of guarding a pot of gold, he is the protector and caretaker of the Pilgrim Virgin Statue of Our Lady of Fatima, Portugal. For 14 years, he has been accompanying her on a pilgrimage around the world.

I read in the paper that the statue was at The Grotto, just a few blocks from my house. It could be seen between the hours of 8 AM and 12 noon. I looked at my watch 10:45! I threw down my paper and put on my coat. Fifteen minutes later I was in line.

MEETING THE PILGRIM VIRGIN STATUE AT THE GROTTO
Standing in the line were folks just like me
who had read about the statue
over their morning coffee.
We marveled at the statue's journey
and the dedication of the man
who had devoted 14 years to being its right hand.

Carl himself came to greet us
passing out small books
dressed in a fine grey suit,
he had the proper guardian look.

He said, "If you do not want to wait
you can come into the chapel
take a pew and meditate."

That was not for us.
We had come to see
up close and personal,
the image of the Lady
first glimpsed atop a tree.

The same one Lucia saw
nothing less would do.
We might even see the statue smile
or shed a tear or two.

I wondered who had guided the carver's hand
to make the statue's face so true
to Lucia's vision of the Lady
she once knew.

Did some angel whisper in the carver's ear,
"a little less there, a little more here".
Was the mahogany destined from the start
to become Our Lady's statue,
not some simple piece of art.

When my turn came to see the statue
I felt a moment's shame.
Where I had come in curiosity
the statue looked on me
as if she knew my name.

I wondered if Our Lady
might have some message just for me.
I listened, but no word I heard
no vision did I see.

I yielded my place at the altar
to the person next in line,
but as I left the chapel
a thought came into my mnd.

The statue in the church,
the vision in the tree,
our Savior on the cross,
become the lens through which we see.

God has wisdom that freely He'll impart
but first we must clear our eyes
and purify our hearts.

I pondered what would happen
if all those in line
from Maine to Madagascar
took a moment's time
to heed the call for faith,
sacrifice and love.
Perhaps then shouts of joy
would be heard from heaven above.

Could our "me first" generation
put their wants aside,
to lift another's burden
and put away their pride?

Are we ready to stop bloodshed,
to erase hunger and pain,
to sacrifice our wealth
with no thought of power or gain,
but simply because it's right,
the thing we need to do
to bring peace to all God's children
including me and you.

If such were to happen,
it might mean struggle and trial
but then maybe, like Lucia,
we would see Our Lady smile.