Thursday, November 10, 2011

Deus Providebit

What has happened to all those wonderful stories about nuns throwing a handful of miraculous medals over a wall and a week later finding someone had left the property to the convent in will?
Are children no longer rescued whilst hanging from a tree root over a precipice by a mysterious stranger who reminds them to thank their guardian angels then disappears?
Are scapular wearing soldiers still less likely to be killed by the enemy?
Do poor families who give their last six penny piece to St Anthony for the even poorer no longer get postal orders from an long lost aunt in the last post?
As it is the feast of St Leo, do cities under threat from the Hun no longer gather for prayer whilst their bishop sets out on his ass to speak to the enemy, no longer find them gone in the morning?

A few stories, I've been told:
"I made sure the novices were outside the door saying the Litany of Loretto whilst I rang round trying to get a few planes to bring food to the refugees, each litany yielded yet another aeroplane, we stopped after six, it was time for Vespers".

"I made a Novena to get into Oxford, on the eighth I had a refusal, and on the ninth I got an acceptance from Exeter, the first day there I met Claire we have been happily married for forty years, I knew God had a plan."

"We ran out of food, we prayed that God would provide and didn't a fishmongers van breakdown right opposite the convent, and didn't the man ask if we wouldn't mind filling our freezer, we eat salmon all that Lent".

"We began a Mission, people were praying before the Blessed Sacrament, I went to visit a house, the woman who answered the door said, "But Father we decided not call you, who told you John was dying? No-one had, either it was co-incidence or the Lord sent me".

We no longer tell these stories, is it we find them all a little superstitious or is it we longer believe God intervenes directly in our lives or have we just lost faith and trust?

15 comments:

Gary said...

My parents were told I was going to die when I was I was baby, they prayed a Novena to St Jude on the last day I was pronounced fit and healthy.
Maybe it was a mis-diagnosis, maybe a miracle, my mum is sure it was the latter.

Saint Michael Come To Our Defense said...

"Wake up and pray. Pablo is in grave danger."

I had helped a Priest as he was going through a process of Exorcism.

I found myself under the knife for the first time in my life; I had never had surgery and never been in the hospital.

The Padre was in India, I was in the United States, the old Cristero Nun that was awakened was in Mexico City.

She was pretty forceful in telling me she had not dreamed, that it was an angel that had awoken her and demanded she pray on my behalf.

I am grateful to the angel and everyone that prays for those most in need of God's mercy.

Are these types of things rare nowadays?

I think not.

People are just ashamed and afraid to relate their experiences as more and more people abandon their souls to the world (i.e. yoga, Buddhism, Protestantism, Harry Potterism, gnosticism).

The Saints want to help us, as well our Guardian Angels.

All we have to do is ask for their help.

*

Jonathan said...

You hear plenty of these stories in charismatic groups.

Regina said...

Oh Father, I tell my children those stories. And we have been saying the Infant of Prague novena since the summer (for family intentions and for their education). My oldest - who is applying for military colleges - is already convinced of it's efficacy. At times, they get all legal on me and tell me it's been more than nine days and then one of them will get something he prayed for (a good grade, finding his watch, winning a match, small things) and the complaining stops. My husband was cured of a liver disease because he prayed to La Virgen de la Cueva Santa (a devotion in the village in Mexico where he is from)several years ago. Everyday kinds of things are mostly what we have so why wouldn't God be interested in them?

momangelica said...

When I was a single girl of 23(1973)I went to Lourdes, I wrote a petition to Our Lady which is placed in the Grotto. I prayed for all my family and then added could I find a GOOD man not necessarily a Catholic. Two months later I did.
I went back in 2008 with my husband, who had converted, and thanked Our Lady for "the GOOD man and six children. Oh, and my eldest son wants a Catholic wife and 10 children please" Two months later, he met his wife, wedded 2009 and baby number two arriving in Feb.

Richard said...

"Do poor families who give their last six penny piece to St Anthony for the even poorer no longer get postal orders from an long lost aunt in the last post?"

No; the Royal Mail have abolished the last post.

Catholic Layman said...

A few years ago as I was walking along a road I suddenly 'heard' an insistent 'voice' reminding me that I hadn't prayed to my Guardian Angel that morning. I prayed to him and then was immediately filled with a strange fear and felt a compulsion that I MUST cross over the road. No sooner had I done so than a lorry drove past and the cords that were holding large pieces of timber broke. The timbers smashed at high speed onto the pavement where I had been standing a few moments before.

Tim said...

My great grandmother was terrified that her young son Danny, who was innocent and delicate, would be called up during the First World War. She knew that life in the trenches would destroy him physically, mentally and perhaps morally too so she prayed to the Little Flower. Danny fell ill and it became apparent that he was dying. As the family gathered at his bedside he said that he could see St Therese standing in the doorway beckoning to him. "Go to her then" said his mother whereupon he closed his eyes and died and the whole house was filled with the overpowering scent of roses. The next day Danny's call-up papers arrived in the post.

Tom said...

My favorite story along these lines:

"Reminds me of the Little Sisters of the Poor, when they needed a gardener. One of the sisters found a picture in a magazine of a man with a hoe. She cut the picture out to put by the statue of St. Joseph, but in her hurry, she trimmed the man's arm right out of the image. And shortly after, a one-armed gardener came to the door, volunteering his services."

Paul, Bedfordshire said...

I remember our much loved Cat disappearing when a child

My mother insisted on praying a novena to much scepticsm from us.

It was found on day 9.

It is things like that that make or otherwise your faith.

Suburbanbanshee said...

People do tell these stories, but it's usually on their blog and they may not get retold.

The week after I was told I'd be losing my job, a big check came in the mail and a rainbow shone in the sky for a long time.

God is good and faithful.

Gigi said...

No, such stories are, thankfully, still alive and skipping.
My Dad and his twin brother were sent from Liege by their father to travel around Europe for a year. My Dad wanted to become a Benedictine monk and his father, although devoutly Catholic, wanted him to be sure of his path.
At some point, my Dad ran out of money. Still wanting to be a monk, he thought he would indulge his love of food before he went home to Belgium. Being a Walloon, he spoke English with a strong French accent. He found himself a temporary job as a "genuine French" chef in a restaurant in Dreamland, Margate.
My Mum had been staying with girlfriends in London. She too had run out of money and was due to return to Northern Ireland and farmwork. On a weekend trip to Margate, she realised she didn't have enough to pay for her meal at some point but carried on eating. In fact, she cleaned the plate. When it came to paying, she said the food hadn't been great and the chef was called. He was immediately smitten and asked to take her to dinner the following night.
Having fallen in love, my Dad took her to Belgium to present her to my grandfather. Although she was Catholic and adorable, my grandfather wasn't impressed by her lack of money or formal education. He told my Dad he would give them his blessing if Dad entered the Benedictine monastery on retreat for a year first. Obviously, he hoped the pair would forget each other. When Dad entered the monastery, my Mum returned heartbroken to Ireland. Dad loved his time in the monastery but couldn't forget my Mum. He completed his retreat and went straight to Ireland to find her.
Needless to say, my grandfather never gave his blessing, but they married anyway and were devoted to each other. My Dad corresponded with monks from various monasteries for the rest of his life. I've inherited a love of Gregorian chant, home cooking, and a strong will. I still pray that God wants me to be with a man who has faith and love - Momangelica, your story is so heartwarming too.

Gigi said...

...I forgot to include in that ramble an integral part of the tale. My Dad told me he'd prayed fervently that by the end of his month at Dreamland, God would show him the path He wanted him to follow so he would never have any doubts. Two days before the end of the month, my Mum arrived, wearing a beautiful crucifix. God works in ways that are mysterious and sometimes not so mysterious I guess.

StevieD said...

Some years ago, then the football pools were popular, there was a TV programme about some of the winners. Included was an old Irish priest working in the English midlands, Fr. Curtin (now long deceased). The priest had been worried about school building debts and urgent church repairs. He prayed and gambled a gift of £10on the pools (only once in his life). He won enough to pay for the debts and repairs, to buy an organ and make gifts of cash to some poor relatives. He told the incredulous interviewer that he knew that he would win because he had prayed very hard to Jesus and Our Lady.

berenike said...

I did more or less no work for most of my time at Oxford, so was in a bit of a mess when Finals came along. The Saturday afternoon before my first exam I was listlessly wandering through the faculty library, ten minutes before it closed for the weekend, wondering which book was the panacea for my extensive ignorance. I picked up a dissertation from the "new acquisitions" rack, flicked through it, decided to take out one of its two volumes. I read one chapter very carefully the next day.

On opening the paper on Monday morning, there was a question of the "quote." Discuss. kind. I knew who said it, on what occasion, where, what his relation with the composer was, why, ... - because it was the subject of the one chapter I'd read in the half a dissertation I happened to pick up at the last minute.

Some time earlier I'd asked a friend who was an academic superhigh flyer and still had a life, how he did it. "A perpetual novena to St Joseph Cupertino." Which I duly found, shared and made. Every friend with whom I shared it had similar "amazing rescue" Finals stories that year.