Maybe you've had absolutely no desire to do something, could not find the right motivation to do it,but still inside yourself you've heard that insistent voice: "Come on, do it anyway." Well, it happened to me (one evening during door to door visitations)...
It was already very late. The evening had been difficult and I really didn't feel like meeting another family. But, that voice! I went ahead.
The family was all there. I politely greeted them; everything seemed peaceful. The wife was preparing dinner, the children were in front of the TV, the husband busied himself... but why did I feel a tension in my chest? There was something chilling my bones, and it wouldn't leave.
I stopped in the kitchen with the wife, for the moment the others continued to do what they were doing. Aha! Everything was explained.
The poor woman! The husband didn't care for the family, he spent everything the family earned on gambling. He often returned home violent and beat the wife and insulted the children. The children rebelled in turn, everyone behaving as if the house were a hotel just to eat and sleep. And she was there, all alone, to take the blame from one and the other.
I let her vent: she had great need of it. I understood that she really never has a chance to do it. She grasped with all her strength for the little tiny light of faith that remained, then crumbled into a darker sadness.
What could I do? What could I say? At times like that, I want to be like the Madonna, to know the right words to console her in the best way, and above all, to obtain the miracle of conversion for her husband and children. But I'm not Our Lady. I have "only" consecrated myself to her, so that she can work with me, in me. Therefore, I renewed my offering and gave her the freedom to work. I thought, "If nothing else, I can do like Mary and take this woman to my heart and guard her pain, presenting it daily to the most merciful Father." Of course, I also left a visible sign of the presence of Mary: the Miraculous Medal. I was convinced that she would obtain the necessary graces. I managed to at least slightly convince the woman.
The husband demonstrated less enthusiasm when I offer him the Medal. But, that wasn't important. It was Mary who was (and is) enthusiastic for them.
Some years passed, and the apostolate took me to other places and to do other things. But, just the same, I continued to follow Mary's way: I held and guarded them in my heart.
Then, just two years ago, I found myself at their house once again. How strange! This time it didn't feel so cold, and my heart was light. When I took up conversation with the wife, it seemed like no time had passed. She said: "My husband no longer plays to absurdity, he loves me, is faithful, and takes interest in the children. They've found work, and we understand each other. I can go to Mass more often, even daily, pray the Rosary, and help at the parish." I literally thought I was dreaming. She continued, "Remember the Medal? I don't know how, but we lost it. Our neighbor, a very good woman, got another one. We lost that one too.... She got another one, regularly it disappeared. Then, I got the idea to hide it in a certain corner of the house, sort of hidden and untouched. I thought that from there, the Medal - or better yet, the Madonna - could scatter her perfume little by little and so touch everyone."
I knew that, in fact, Our Lady had touched more than this household. Once again I wished to be her, so that I would be able to sing with all possible gratitude: "My soul magnifies the Lord, and my spirit rejoices in God my savior." I do sing, with the lady and of course with Mary, because
Mary is here, with us, present among us, present and working in us...
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