- Thu Apr 29, 2010 10:59 am
#162808
It was forty years ago, and I remember it like it was yesterday. I was 22 years old,and living with my parents. I was to be married in six weeks. It was a June morning and I awoke to the sounds of my mother calling out my father's name in a distressed way. "Jack!, Jack"! I got up and went across the hall to my parents room. My father was lying face up on the floor, eyes closed. I could hardly hear any breath sounds. He was lying there motionless. My mother was standing off to the and I think she was in some kind of shock. She was a retired nurse, but when you see a loved one hurt, I think she just froze.
My St Anthony statue stood tall on their dresser.
I got down on the floor and attemped chest compressions. I didn't really know what I was doing. I wasn't a nurse then. I was desperate and didn't know what happened to him. After two or three tries, while my hands were still on Dad's chest, I turned my head back to my St Anthony statue, and with everything I had, I called out in a loud voice, "St Anthony help me"!!! ( like don't just stand there... do something!)
In that very moment, I heard a sound like a short distinct swish of wind next to me. I immediately percieved holiness that was unearthly. It was holy, holy, holy.
I did one more chest compression and my my father gasped in air. I just knew he would be alright. The room changed. It was filled with a holy ecstacy. It became hazy with holiness. I said to my mother "Mom, look at the room!" She said " I see!"
We were in the pressence of St Anthony! I was filled with an unearthly happiness. With the utmost sweetness and gentleness, the holy haze ebbed away. And when it was gone, the it was like being dropped on a cement floor. That's what reality feels like after being in the pressence of holiness.
The ambulance came, and took Dad and my mother to the hospital. I stayed behind sitting on the floor, holding my St Anthony statue, sobbing like a baby in total love for my dear Patron Saint.
My father had suffered a brain hemmorhage. He was well again in six weeks. He walked me down the isle on my wedding day, which was August 15th, 1970... St Anthony's birthday and the Feast of Blessed Mother's Assumption.
My St Anthony statue stood tall on their dresser.
I got down on the floor and attemped chest compressions. I didn't really know what I was doing. I wasn't a nurse then. I was desperate and didn't know what happened to him. After two or three tries, while my hands were still on Dad's chest, I turned my head back to my St Anthony statue, and with everything I had, I called out in a loud voice, "St Anthony help me"!!! ( like don't just stand there... do something!)
In that very moment, I heard a sound like a short distinct swish of wind next to me. I immediately percieved holiness that was unearthly. It was holy, holy, holy.
I did one more chest compression and my my father gasped in air. I just knew he would be alright. The room changed. It was filled with a holy ecstacy. It became hazy with holiness. I said to my mother "Mom, look at the room!" She said " I see!"
We were in the pressence of St Anthony! I was filled with an unearthly happiness. With the utmost sweetness and gentleness, the holy haze ebbed away. And when it was gone, the it was like being dropped on a cement floor. That's what reality feels like after being in the pressence of holiness.
The ambulance came, and took Dad and my mother to the hospital. I stayed behind sitting on the floor, holding my St Anthony statue, sobbing like a baby in total love for my dear Patron Saint.
My father had suffered a brain hemmorhage. He was well again in six weeks. He walked me down the isle on my wedding day, which was August 15th, 1970... St Anthony's birthday and the Feast of Blessed Mother's Assumption.