I went to visit Virgin of Schoenstatt church last Friday, a little chapel tucked in between farmlands in South Miami with some of my bible sisters for some meditation and prayer.
We were praying the stations of the cross, when an halo ring began to form around the sun. We had our haha moment for a second there, a ring beginning right at that moment… divine intervention, perhaps, we thought but kept going.
We went in the little chapel for mass and continued prayers but it was then, minutes later, that I began to experience what is undeniably rather intriguing, to say the least.
To describe the event during and after the service, is behind words. I had my “brat” moment during mass. I could not stop crying and kept going with gusto. It was one tear after another, a nonstop convulsion with tissues in the making and then some. I could kept going but will leave the rest to a later date. I would say this much however, it was an halo of out-body experience, an Amen.
The mass was over, the group left the premises but I, blunted by emotion still, stayed behind, praying, weeping uncontrollably, trying to restrain myself, taking in the moment. Oblivious of the “storm”, staggering and swaying a little, I walked out to join the group to “uproar” of The Picture. Yes, a picture that left me at Hello!
Not trying to make lemons out of the lemonade, believers and non believers but I had my moment of “Lord what is this and what are trying to say?” Take one goo look at the Picture, can you spot a Cross and A Heart? Some folks however go even further. They see a picture of Jesus but you would have to turn the picture around to the left to see it. I saw it; perhaps, because I am a believer.
I thought it was all once over as the day winded down but it didn’t.
I equated my little “dance” in the church to whatever is going on in my life today but the universe had a different answer for me. My mother called me later in the evening and it was during our conversation that she blurred something to the fact, “I went to your father’s mass today”. It is a Catholic thing to offer a mass for the soul of someone who died.
Ouch, it hurst down there. How could I have forgotten? My father and I were this close. I was feeling guilty as “hell” to put it mildly and didn’t connect the dots until later in the evening while praying when it hit me like a ton of break, my father passed away four years ago on that day. Perhaps, it was the old man’s way of telling me that he loves me and was with me or something else or nothing at all. I don’t know but an heart in the middle of the sun?