It was a stormy summer morning. My mother and I were heading early to the hospital for a procedure my father was scheduled to have. Nerves raw and exhausted, we were putting on a brave face, if not for each other, for ourselves. We went for a cup of coffee as a distraction. I was standing in the cafeteria when a lady approached me, noticing the cross and St. Jude medal that I was wearing, and asked if I was Christian.” Yes, I’m Catholic,” I said. She proceeded to hold up her necklace, which held numerous medals of various saints. I nervously joked and said, “Wow! You have all your bases covered!” She proceeded to tell me about a Catholic pilgrimage she took to Lourdes, France, where there is a spring of healing water where Mary has appeared many times. She described it as a very powerful, life-changing journey. Intrigued, I told her it sounded like a beautiful experience. She asked me why I was at the hospital that day, and I told her my father was ill and getting a procedure that morning. She said she wanted to pray for him and asked me what his name was. I found myself getting very emotional saying his name out loud. It made everything feel more real to me. I apologized while wiping away my tears. She said she wanted to give me something. She went into her purse and handed me a bottle, which contained holy water from the spring in Lourdes. I was overwhelmed by her kindness and told her I couldn’t accept it. She insisted. I graciously took it, thanking her for her compassion and prayers. 

My mother and I were back in the waiting room. My dad’s doctor came bustling in and said, “Have you guys been praying all weekend?” We looked at each other and he proceeded to say that the blockage that was previously seen was gone. Completely clean. The procedure was unnecessary. He was completely baffled and very happy. I was speechless. Overwhelmed and beyond thankful, we headed back to the intensive care unit. My father was still very sick, but this was a huge victory which would hopefully lead to his recovery. 

After being in the ICU waiting room for weeks you generally get familiar with other suffering families. Later that same day, my mother and I ran into three elderly brothers whom we had often seen in the waiting room. They were there for their ill father. They looked particularly sad that morning. We started talking to them and they livened up a bit, talking about their father’s life and their upbringing. After a few minutes, they looked at us and said, “You two must be angels! This is just what we needed. We were just going in to say a final goodbye to our father and you have made it easier by allowing us to tell you about the great life he had.” We all got a little emotional, embraced, and wished each other well. 

That is a day my mother and I will never forget. I had been doubting God for a while, but he was right there showing his presence stubbornly and abundantly. I felt his embrace around me and my family. I felt hopeful. When you are feeling alone and have suffered so greatly that you feel God has abandoned you, know that he is always there and will show himself in mysterious and sometimes obvious ways. My father was eventually strong enough to be released from the hospital. He still has challenges, but he is home.