The Maldonado Miracle
“He was in the sacristy, the little room in which the vestments and sacred communion vessels were kept, dressing for the six-thirty mass. He had just finished putting on the alb, the long, white linen garment that covered his robe.
He ran into the gardens and looked around in the thin light. Seeing no one, he went on through the iron gate to El Camino Real. He thought there might have been an accident. As he moved toward the church steps, he saw the sprawled figure. Going to her, he lifted the black shawl.
"Josefa," he said, in surprise. "What's wrong? Are you injured? Did you fall?" Gently, he pulled her into a sitting position.
She mumbled, "Mary, Mother of God," over and over.
Lebeon shook her. "Josefa, Josefa," he said, sharply. "Stop that!" "Milagro," she moaned. "Milagro." The priest sighed and sat down beside her on the damp steps. He put his arm around her huge, soft shoulder. It was really much too early for this, he thought. But he said, tenderly, shifting to Spanish, "Josefa..., miracles happen every day.MoreLess
He ran into the gardens and looked around in the thin light. Seeing no one, he went on through the iron gate to El Camino Real. He thought there might have been an accident. As he moved toward the church steps, he saw the sprawled figure. Going to her, he lifted the black shawl.
"Josefa," he said, in surprise. "What's wrong? Are you injured? Did you fall?" Gently, he pulled her into a sitting position.
She mumbled, "Mary, Mother of God," over and over.
Lebeon shook her. "Josefa, Josefa," he said, sharply. "Stop that!" "Milagro," she moaned. "Milagro." The priest sighed and sat down beside her on the damp steps. He put his arm around her huge, soft shoulder. It was really much too early for this, he thought. But he said, tenderly, shifting to Spanish, "Josefa..., miracles happen every day.MoreLess
Write Review:
Guest
Read Also
8 / 10
User Reviews: