Offer it up (poem)

Offer it up when you are in pain
Offer it up when you’ve missed the train
Offer it up when you are rejected
Offer it up when your not selected.
Offer it too when your troubles pile up
And when sorrow and suffering
Overflow your cup.
If you offer up whatever comes your way in union with the Passion and Death of Jesus, you can release souls from Purgatory, obtain the conversion of sinners and the perseverance of the just, make reparation for your sins and the sins of others and shorten your own Purgatory.
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A wedding veil for St Philomena!

I had a church sized statue of St Philomena in storage. When I came to the shed that the statue was kept in there was a nice surprise.  Spiders had spun St Philomena a wonderful wedding veil !  It had a long train and also went over her face down to the floor.  The statue could be seen through the veil. It was a great sight. The veil was spun over the crown of roses on the statue’s head. I only wish that I had taken a picture of it.

Was this a choir of angels?

This true story was shared was told to me by a friend, who knew one of the ladies mentioned in the story.

During a trip to the city three sisters decided to visit a nearby Catholic church and as they walked into the church’s vestibule they heard a choir singing. The singing sounded angelic. The sisters refrained from going into the church because they did not want to disturb the choir. Finally they decided to walk into the church because their time was running out and they would soon have to leave and catch their train home. As they walked into the church the singing stopped and to their amazement the church was empty.

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How my family received a blessing from Pope Paul VI

In November 1970 Pope Paul VI visited Sydney, Australia.  Mum took us kids on the train to Sydney.  It was a hot day.  Lots of people were lined up along the street in front of Hyde Park. Mum took us to the front of the rows of people and earned the irritation of a lady nearby, who said that they had been there for hours in the heat. So my mother said “Lets cross the street and stand over there”.  We crossed the street and stood near the outside of St Mary’s  Cathedral.  The pope was inside the cathedral having a meeting with the clergy. Finally he came out. He was standing on the back of a ute which was driven out of the cathedral car park.  We were standing at the pedestrian lights.  No one expected the pope’s route to be there, so our family were the only ones standing there. The pope’s vehicle drove past there very slowly and the pope looked down at our family and studied our faces! We waved to him excitedly.  Then he lifted his arm high and gave a blessing to mum and to us children. (Most of us including myself, where in our early teens and were then in high school). Even today I find it hard to believe that this happened.

Only a Taste of Lourdes Water

A Jesuit Father writes the following account to a religious paper :

 

The horse which was to have brought me to the railway station, fell on the slippery streets, and, so I missed my train. This was indeed very vexing as I had taken every precaution to be in time. We arrived at the station just as the train was moving off; regrets were useless, so I patiently submitted to my lot, and thought I would say my Office during the time which would elapse before the next train, which was due in about an hour. This was no easy task in a busy station, but if I went away, I did not know what to do with a large bottle of Lourdes water, which I had with me. To put it in the luggage room did not seem quite reverent, but I noticed in the corner of the waiting-room, a man, closely wrapped up, who, to all appearance, meant to sit there for several hours. So I walked up to him, and asked if he were going to remain there for some time. “Yes,” was the reply. This ‘Yes’ was uttered shortly, and signified, rather, ‘What does it matter to you?’  “Are you going to stay till eleven o’clock?” “Yes,” was the curt rejoinder. His voice sounded still gruffer. “If I leave this article here, will you look after it?”  “What is it”? he asked. “Oh, nothing very particular; but will you have, the kindness to take care of it?”

 

In a sulky voice, I at length got the reply- “Very well, leave it there.” I then went off to a quiet spot under some trees, near the station. Having finished my Office, I bought a newspaper, in order to pass away the remaining twenty minutes. Scarcely had I begun to read, when I seemed to hear a voice saying to me: “Go and see what has become of the bottle!” “Stupid bottle!” I could have said but the remembrance of its contents restrained me. I wanted to read, but the voice seemed to repeat: “Go and see what has become of your bottle!” I could stand this no longer, so I went; the man was still there, the man of the slow, rough and morose answers, but he sat with his face buried in his hands, and the tears welling through his fingers. “Oh, Father”, he said, “I will tell you all, yes all.” (How I wondered at this unexpected manner of address.) “You see that I am already an old man. I was born and baptized in the Catholic Church, and until the age of eleven, I practised my religion; then I lost my mother, and my father being already dead, I was left alone in the world.

 

Fortunately, I was in the hands of a good master, but he was a staunch Protestant, and he eventually constrained me to embrace his religion; and to please him, I became a Protestant. Later on I married, and God gave me a good Catholic wife who continually entreated me to return to the religion of my childhood; but I put it off from year to year. When you went away, leaving this bottle standing here, I was curious to know what it contained, and to try what a papist priest’s brandy tasted like, but I soon perceived that it was only water after all. As soon as I had taken a mouthful, a change came over me, I felt determined to become a Catholic once more; and I will do so immediately. So I beg of you, Father, to hear my confession.” This announcement was so strange that at first I believed the good man had been drinking something more than my water, and so I wanted to get rid of him. “We have not any time now,” I replied, “for the train will be here in a few minutes; besides, this is not the place for such things. Come to me at X.”

 

“Now, Father, now,” was the rejoinder. “I cannot come to X; do hear my confession and I promise you that I will go to church next Sunday with my wife.” “Do you know,” I asked, “where this water comes from?” “No” he replied. “It is from the miraculous spring of the Immaculate Mother of God at Lourdes.” “Well then, it is the Blessed Virgin Mary who has obtained this grace for me,” he said. Thereupon I lost no more time and before the train left, I had reconciled this aged sinner to his God.