As soon as Perdita and Clark asked for 'MIRACLE STORIES FROM MARY", I was happy for the invite and adjusted the prompt to a current situation, leaving in the past the one about how the lintel of the door opened when I was carrying a baby on my shoulders and walked through a front door with her/him, never even ruffling a hair on her/his infant head. Once inside the door, I heard," See what I just did for you? You are coming out of a personal tragedy and you could not have taken another, so I expanded the doorway and didn't let the wood door frame injure/kill the baby!!" It was the 70's and I wont even tell you what had happened in my personal life that warranted this BIG MIRACLE and so I leave it to your imagination but THINK BIG because it WAS BIG beyond tragic. Mary or her Angel kindly saved me from double trouble.
And I leave in the past the miracle of light flooding out of the Tabernacle at a local Catholic Church and the one about Jesus verbally taking me on as "disciple" at the St Michael's Cathedral in Montreal ( " I'm you Guru now," he said after Dr. Mishra died.) And the one about Mary adopting me as her daughter in Medjugorje with the message, "When Mrs. Mehta dies, I will be your Mother." But she didn't talk to me willingly, I made her do it by telling her that I would sit in that Church for hours if I had to and then I mentally yelled at her, "Mary I paid $8,873,653.00 dollars coming here on 2 airplanes, and am rooming with someone I never want to see ever again and so you HAVE to tell me something or I will NEVER EVER ……" I forgot what I said that I would never-ever. So then Mary, exhausted by my mood, told me about Mrs. Mehta and the future adoption.
The visit was fraught with trepidation and auguries of peril as I drove to the airport in torrential thunder/lightening/fogged windows and semi trucks careening out of control next to me on the Thruway. That I made it was compassion-enough but there was more salvation to come after the visit of my still practicing 79 year old big bro surgeon doctor and new wife who traveled from Alaska, after an 18 hours flight and his 15 year absence. I was the 10pm pick up person. He fed me Milk Duds as we drove an hour and a half back to the house, no rain. But then there was the HOUSE! And here comes the bigggggggg miracle. Focusing on my work I give short shrift to cleaning the family homestead, now filled with almost cob-webbed memories and the chair dying dad sat in and the bed doc bro was probably conceived in. The bed they were to sleep in!!!! So when he slept there and woke the next morning, with bags packed and shrill insistence that they leave, I should not have been surprised but I had invested in their comfort by cleaning and scrubbing and defumigating the past from the wall-papered walls. I had made it comfortable for him, I thought. The memoried walls messaged him otherwise.
After they left, it took two weeks of oye vey and more oye vey to clear my inner aire and then I gave it to Mary. I said quickly, curtly, rudely and without love," Mary, BROTHER-MIRACLE." Then let it go. A few days later I walked into the said bedroom and found on the floor, I'm sure on the side of the bed where he slept, a one and a half inch plastic covered cloth photo of the Sacred Heart of Jesus. Where did it come from? I picked it up, didn't hold it to my 76 year old breast but meant to, and got this, " Remember the water and wine story when I asked my son to help out the wedding guests? Well this one with your brother was tough and I had to send Him in with his Sacred Heart to do the job."
Sometimes it takes a boy.
I feel better now.
Linda Mary Montano, 2018