Short stories from Birmingham readers in 162 countries so far
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TRANSLATE INTO ALL YOUR LANGUAGES, and Remember The Rosary is more Powerful than any of Putin’s Nuclear Weapons…….
What Use am I, I am Just an Old Woman?
By
Michael Casey
Maria Gonzales was an old woman, a very old woman now, bent with pain and old age and a lifetime of cleaning rich people’s homes. But she was much loved, honest cleaners are worth their weight in gold. So over the years her employers had paid her well and they always brought her a Rosary from every Holy place they could visit in South America and the world over. Maria Gonzales would never travel anywhere but the Rosaries came to her, she was content. She had a drawer full of Rosaries still in presentation cases that she used and lovingly placed back inside the presentation case after saying her 3 Rosaries, The Joyful, The Sorrowful and The Glorious. Maria Gonzales was content, God was in his Heaven but the Virgin was happy to live in a drawer next to Maria Gonzales bed.
Now when Big Sid was shot, the tv news covered it the world over and even in Maria Gonzales part of the world they heard about it, as Mrs Murphy had screamed for help and Rosaries in many languages. So Sid was saved. Maria Gonzales had in fact pulled every single Rosary from the drawer and used them to say 3 Rosaries on each, she was locked and loaded. Maria Gonzales fell asleep still clutching a Rosary an employer had brought from Lourdes in France, such a long way away from her village outside Lima. The rest of the Rosaries fell all over the floor as Maria Gonzales slept.
As dawn broke Maria Gonzales awoke with a Hail Mary on her lips, the Rosaries were no longer on the floor but neatly stacked in their presentation cases on the other side of the room beneath a picture of Our Lady. Maria said “thank you” and in her mind she could hear a soft gentle voice answer “De nada” Maria knew she’d be needing her Rosaries again soon, and all of them too, they were ready and waiting, a Big Prayer was coming. She did not know what or how or who but Maria Gonzales knew a Big Prayer would be needed.
Back in Old Forge and Singing Anvil they breathed a sigh of relief, Big Sid was still alive. But now events had moved fast, Fr.Dan had landed from China, the Chinese billionaire and the British aristocrat had joined forces, the international drugs dealers convention had this year decided to meet in Birmingham England, and they were going to get the shock of their lives.
Mrs Murphy did not know all the details, but she had handed out some Our Lady of Lourdes medals while Fr. Dan’s new best friend the reformed Chinese Billionaire’s Playboy Son had hand out the Shanghai Soother, which looked like a body warmer was in fact body armour. The filth from afar were going to get a kicking, and Fr. Dan swore it as he and his new BFF from Shanghai would lead the charge. Though the British aristocrat, had invited a few friends from down Hereford way to help move some furniture, if you know what I mean.
So while this was all being plotted and served cold on a plate, Mrs Murphy reached for her Nuclear weapons again. This time she could not scream and shout over the tv, she had to use a secret way to gain help and assistance. So she picked up the phone and rang the International Daughters of the Rosary headquarters. This being the janitor’s store at the Oratory Hagley Rd Birmingham, where John Henry Newman used to live. Old Mrs Newman, no relation picked up the phone and turned her hearing aid up to 17, Mrs Murphy was whispering. I need a favour, a silent Novena of Protection. Mrs Newman put the mop in the mop bucket, this was big, she could tell.
So the word was put out and would be transmitted. Who are we protecting asked Mrs Newman as she in turn whispered into the phone. Well I don’t know all the names but here are some:-
Mathew, Mark, Luke and John, then Patrick my son, but I’ll be praying for him, then there’s Fr.Dan my favourite priest ever and his new BBF from Shanghai, those are the ones whose names I know, and there’s a whisper that some farmers from Hereford might be coming, but I’m not supposed to know that, and all I know about farmers is wherever there are farmers there always is a big stink.
Mrs Murphy put down the phone and slipped her Rosary out of her pinny pocket, it would be a long night. Where was that space blanket Esther her Jewish zillionaire’s mother had sent her. Maybe she should tell Esther too, she could keep secrets, her son owned spy satellites everywhere. Mrs Newman at the Oratory reached for the high shelf in the janitor’s store, hidden behind an old battered box of Brillo was a phone her son had given her. It was like the Bat phone, but so much more powerful. On this phone, ever phone number of everybody connected to International Daughters of the Rosary. Mrs Newman whispered into the phone. Pray Day, Pray Day, Pray Day Ave Marie, then she listed the names of those in need of protection. With just one push of a button everybody would get the message. The Tsunami was coming, the Tsunami was coming.
What Use am I, I am just an old woman? You can pray, and pray they did. The water of life had ripples on the shore, but now the waves were getting bigger, and bigger, the storm, the Tsunami was brewing. Nothing or nobody would hurt, nos hichos, they were protected. North, South and East and West, even in the space station the call came though. First to a Russian astronaut whose mother had rung reminding him he was closer to Heaven so pray too, then on a secure channel Esther’s son spoke, All Eyes All Prayers Protect our boys.
But What of Maria Gonzales? She did not get any message but she knew anyway, the Rosaries had been lined up ready, but she could only use one at a time. Then, then the cars started to arrive outside her door, rich ladies, very rich ladies, those who had brought her all those Rosaries began to arrive. 27 ladies all looking worried, they did not know why or how but they were drawn to their servants door.
Maria, Maria are you well? They are asked anxiously, I’m fine, but maybe it’s not me who called you here. Then she showed them the Rosaries all lined up ready. Maria started to hand out the Rosaries, nobody knew what was going on. Then one phone rung. It was the called from the janitor’s room. This is why we are here, the rich lady announced. So they started then and there in a poor woman’s home some of the finest ladies of the city, of Lima began to pray.
@@@@@this is just a story but today is Padre Pio Feast Day, so pray for Peace, after that everything else will fall into place
It’s a contradiction in terms immediately , how can I copyright a Saint . A brand new saint at that . I first heard of him through some Religious reading I did . I feel embarrassed to admit it , but I am a practising Catholic , its not fashionable to have any Faith but its mine so I admit it . Immediately the prejudice begins , but if I WERE A Jew or a Muslim , it would be the same . I do feel that my catholic tastes have given me a broader outlook on life , as has my eclectic tastes and rubbing shoulders with a wide variety of people .
But I want to talk about Padre Pio . I had a crisis and was reading about him at the time , so I said my prayers to him and the way forward was revealed . Though Padre Pio always says go Higher , he is just a stepping stone on the way to a better place . What is so hard to understand about Padre Pio is how he suffered . He had the slings and arrows of outrageous fortune . Condemned by his own superiors , made to be quiet for a decade and so forth . Science Fiction teaches or rather amuses us about Time Travel , but with Padre Pio it really happened , he wanted to share in Christ’s agony so he thought , what if he too could have and suffer the wounds on that day of Crucifixion . So it came to pass that he suffered for 50years . He had the indignity of medical examinations and of being thought just to be a mental patient , but his work and life proved his holiness .
So it’s nearly 1990 and I hear about him and read a few books , it’s hard to understand the value of suffering in this age of quick fix pain killers and the lets have a fix , whatever the fix might be , sex, drugs and rock and roll or whatever . It’s like suddenly studying again after years of lying fallow , the learning curve is enormous . So too is it with Padre Pio , the idea behind his life is enormous , but so too is the capacity for love and help .
My favourite story is how Padre Pio explains that The Wedding Feast at Cana happened because Jesus could not refuse his mother . Very Italian , or Irish or Spanish and so on , but could any of us refuse our mothers?
So I thought more about what Padre Pio said , and his motto of Pray Hope Don’t Worry became my own . Carpe Diem is another good motto but perhaps this can be used by any Hedonist , or other kind of selfish person .Padre Pio reminds us to pray and that pray is not wasted , its perfume that is never wasted is a phrase I like . My mother always used to say that if you couldn’t sleep you should say the Rosary , and she was right . Though in today’s world an hour on the Internet or with MTV might do the trick .
So why the devotion to Padre Pio , I’ll cut to the chase.
My mother died suddenly but peacefully in her sleep , my brother tried CPR , but she was gone . Imagine the angusih amongst her 6 children and her husband of nearly 50 years .
All except me , my mother had said no tears when she go ,so I never cried , I was the odd one out .I know how prayerful she was , so I had no need of tears .
Eight bare weeks later my brother , the same brother heard our dad fall out of bed , so he ran to his bedroom . My brother was facing the exact same situation , he tried CPR , the ambulance was called , an injection was given straight to the heart . On weekends there is a doctor in the ambulance , so Luck , if that’s the word was with us . The next day 4 of my brothers and sisters came around to tell me the news . When my sister had come around 8 weeks previously I knew somebody was dead but I assumed it was my dad , he’s die first we all thought . So now 8 weeks later it was his turn to die .
At the hospital dad was given 1 week to live , I cried like a baby , worse than a baby , but I loved him , so I told him he should go to our mother and not hang on if he didn’t want to . The next day I was in my sister’s house crying , we picked hymns for his funeral .Yet my father survived , 19 patients on a heart ward , 18 died my dad survived . Padre Pio was besieged by my prayers , I put Padre Pio’s photo under his pillow . Dad lost his mind , he was in Dudley Rd for 3months , 12 weeks , more than half of them all tubed up . His life hanging in the balance . At the same time somewhere in Florida another man was at deaths door , he was a totally stranger to me , I didn’t even know his name , I’d never met him , he was give 24hours to live , a Chinese man from Shanghai was at deaths door . The Chinaman survived .My dad’s memory was totally wiped , he did not know who I was, I’m your son was greeted with , am I married . I was the favourite son , he did not even know me . But still we prayed , it’s a feeling in your guts , just like when you are nearly killed as you cross the road , its in your guts and in your heart , Jesus save my dad , Jesus save my dad , Padre Pio help !!! This goes around your head like a merry go around or a kaleidoscope . Finally dad awoke . He said that he can remember hearing the doctor say to wheel him down to the end of the ward , because he’d be dead soon . At that moment my dad awoke, and the doctor dropped his cup of tea in shock . No not an instantaneous miracle , but as Dr Singh had said if he were 30years younger he’d have a heart transplant because dad’s heart was rubbish .
Now , when I told my brother that dad was reading a newspaper he was shocked . His memory had come back . He knew who we all were .Every day for three months I walked the corridor at Dudley Rd , the longest hospital corridor in Europe , 1 kilometre long . Finally he left the hospital , my sister had found a good home for him to live in , he was far too weak to live in the family house .
For 3 years dad survived , like a Godfather with all his children making constant visits . Finally I met my future wife . It was her uncle who had miraculously survived at the same time as my father . It was her uncle who encouraged us in our love . From Shanghai to Birmingham .These great men , her uncle and my father never met , but I know Padre Pio must have helped both of them . Further prayer was needed to bring me and my wife permanently together . A Chinese miracle happened . Now we are wed , we have a 2year old and please God a healthy second baby in the Autumn . The improbability of our meeting , plus the fact that both men HAD to live for us to be married and have a family , this may be a coincidence to some but I know a miracle when I see one. A miracle is something that makes you feel humble , it makes you know that God has whispered your name . When I look at my wife , I feel humble . Seeing our daughter laugh and play also makes me humble as will our new baby.
Then you can look back and know that prayer is like perfume that can never be wasted , your life has led you to where you are now , yes at times sad and terrible , but be humble in the sight of God means something , not just for me , but for all Believers .
I once stood by the fridge and said to Padre Pio , I give up , you take over , all I want is to be married , and perhaps have a family , and do something useful with my life . That was just before my eyes were opened to my wife . I used to say that I got 2 out of my 3 wishes . Perhaps my current occupation is my 3rd wish , or a more outstanding miracle is waiting in the wings , but as Padre Pio said ,always ask for the big Grace . Perhaps we have to be humble enough to deserve it , because I believe it to be a fact that , truly great people are humble because they know just how little they really know.
@@@@@ I wrote this 19 years ago and now my new baby is born and is at University
Can I also thank the crew below for looking after my Family, Graci all of you
while they had a well deserved short break, Silvano especially was
I’d rather be writing comedy and that’s what i normally do, look through my 4 sites and you will laugh. I have been sending almost daily HOLY PICTURES to Russians in the Vain Hope they Wake Up, Faith does not Take Bribes. But Putin’s Russia is a about Bad Faith
So go to the Streets and Pray, real prayer not Putin’s Altar Boy’s bought by a Property Portfolios. 144 million People are stronger than a liar and a thief called Putin
So do something today and Save Russia’s Soul
Is your Soul worth it, or do you believe in the word of a thief Putin
Why is Russia not as rich as Germany or Japan or Korea
Because Putin STOLE the riches for himself and the new Czars
Repare mi Casa RUSSIANS
It’s now or never, you can read some DAILY MAIL NEWSPAPER reports Below
