Anne Lastman.
Over what seems to be a million years ago I had an opportunity to go on a pilgrimage to Medjugorje, something I had longed to do from the first moment I read the first book “Medjugorje: The Message:” by Wayne Weibble. I was so overwhelmed and began the longing to go and visit the place where Our Lady was appearing.
Very little was known about it at the time but as I read the book it became my project and eventually this project came to pass. This was my first time overseas.
I went with a pilgrim group and I just followed quietly, not knowing what the etiquette of travel was. I just followed.
When we arrived, we were given rooms and apart from some planned events e.g. Rosary, Mass, Confession, meal times etc. for the most part we were left to wander, which was great. I liked that part.
Listening to others (unknown to me) and what they did, many spoke about climbing the hill of apparition and the consensus was that it was a marvelous experience. Hard but marvelous. The most amazing place to be. Hearing all the comments (eavesdropping) I decided that next morning after Mass I would also go, and so with a few others from my group we set out to climb to the top. It must have been raining because the rocks were wet but that wasn’t an issue to stop the climb.
Having reached the top, first thing I saw was a very simple but beautiful statue of Our Lady. It was like she was looking over St James the church and the surrounds . There was a not so very high fence around the statue but apart from that and some flowers there was only people kneeling on that hard ground and praying the Rosary. I’m not sure I joined in. I think I just stood and looked around and seeing our Lady and probably thinking “I made it up that steep hill and how am I going to get down again.” I seemed in stupor, What followed a bit later the thought about the descent was answered, but before that, as I looked around I hadn’t realized that most people were going down hill and only a very few were still kneeling and praying. I still hadn’t prayed. I excuse myself by understanding that I was simply overwhelmed. However, I kept looking at Our Lady and quietly said to her “Holy Mother, I’m going to Rome after here, and Ive got to see some people regarding the work which I believe your son called me to, so would you please send St Michael to open the doors for me. Thank you” Today I can see how naïve I was to just say to Our Lady after my request for help “thank you” Think I must have looked around again and began the descent, being afraid of the slippery rocks.
As I started to walkdown the hill a lovely, beautiful young girl hooked her arm in mine and we began to speak about us and Medjugorje, and up the hill, and just “normal” talk. By the time I realized we were right at the bottom of the hill without having slipped once, I also noticed that the young girl gave me a hug, waved, and went, and that’s the first and only time I saw her in 8 days in Medjugorje.
The rest of the stay was very beautiful, although there was something else which caught and tugged at my heartstrings. At the front of the Church of St James was (I haven’t been since so I don’t know if still there) was a large sculpture of the crucified Lord and from His right knee a clear “fluid” like water seemed to at times seep, and at other times not. I bought a white handkerchief with image of Our Lady and collected some drops, which I still have today. The other precious memories of the place were the long lines of priests from every nation hearing confessions. The lines of the faithful waiting to go to confession, the beautiful Mass in different languages and Croation every night. At every Mass the church full. Completely full. I hadn’t ever seen anything like that in Australia.
Eventually our pilgrim group left and each going separate ways. I went to Rome and apart from accommodation, straight to St Peters. To someone who’d never left Australia, I just looked in awe. In those days we didn’t need security checks so went straight into St Peters and immediately on the right the Pietá.
As I stood just absorbing and looking at the Pietá I remembered that I had had a request from friends back (Australia) to see if I could find a small memento or photo or anything including a book about Saint Bartholomew as they had a devotion to him. This led to the most awesome experience and how St Peter comes into the story. What I have just written is background to what led to what I believe to have been a beautiful response to a request made to Our Lady on Mt of Apparition, but which I had forgotten about.
Before I left for pilgrimage I made, on request, a promise to couple of friends to find something about St Bartholomew and not knowing where to start, still standing near the Pietá, I turned around and saw a young man (25-30ish) and went up to him to ask some direction on what and where to start looking. His name Miguel. I asked him if he could speak English, “a little” and then told him what I needed find (though I wasn’t sure he understood) and he sent me towards a set of stairs not far from where we were standing. This led to the Vatican grottoes and I’m looking around thinking there’s a lot of dead holy people but not St Bartholomew. Within a few minutes “Miguel” came down and asked if I had found what I needed and I said no. Then he said the strangest thing, “would you like to see the place where the bones of holy St Peter were found?” I didn’t know what/how to answer that question. Like the book by Mark Twain, I was truly an “Innocents Abroad” I think I must have nodded or mumbled some “Yes” and the response was “come.” we walked towards some doorway to the right and out comes the steel circle with two or three old fashioned keys. I can still see them and Miguel opened the door and in we go. Down passageway around narrow darkish passageway. At one point I think I thought “I could be with an axe murderer” and I think I heard a quietish throaty laugh. However, we soon came to a beautiful chapel. After the dark of passageway, we came to this white, blue, gold chapel with few pews, and the uninformed me said “Oh thank you Miguel. Its beautiful” “No signora not here. In this chapel a priest or one leading pilgrims can offer Mass” so we walked through. Again, going through a few more darkish passageways and stop. A dark sort of room (cave?) with what seemed Perspex around the “cave” “here signora is the place. Would you like to stay a few minutes and pray I will wait for you but don’t use camera. Here is light and temperature controlled” I looked at him and I think I nodded. I stood looking through Perspex at soil, some ancient writing on original wall. Miguel thought I might like to pray but I really couldn’t, it was as if I was out of words all I could say was “St Peter, from one sinner to another, thank you” (heavens what a nondescript prayer!!) that’s all and next moment Miguel was next to my side and said, “you must be an important person for you to be permitted here, researchers are permitted here” “No I’m just a wife and mother and hope to start a new work soon” and then we were leaving.
Again, through same passageways, silent, still not really knowing what happened. We came to grottoes and Miguel took me back to the place near the Pietá where we first met. I said thank you and gave him a hug (I do this as a friend hug, though at times to my own embarrassment and detriment) and began walking towards the entry of the basilica. About 8-10 metres I turned around to wave goodbye and no Miguel in sight. I looked as much as I knew how and I thought he must have gone through some door but he disappeared.
As I got out into the sunshine I walked for a little while, found a place for coffee and gelato and a need to sit and think about what had happened. And then the gate opened and I think my brains must have returned because I remembered that I had asked the Holy Mother to ask St Michael (Miguel) to open the doors for me (Miguel and keys old fashioned like those Jesus gives to Peter). I had forgotten the request and Mother and St Michael opened both the doors of need for the work, but the most glorious doors imaginable.
Today I believe these walks are called the “Scavi” tours but being new to travel and never having heard of “scavi” tours I strongly believe that it was St Michael who took me on this tour. I don’t and haven’t spent years thinking about this, I probably only remember about it when the feast of Sts Peter and Paul come around and when I do think about it, all I can think is that the Holy Mother remembered my request to open doors and St Michael did open them. Sometimes like this past feast day I have thought about it and still find it hard to believe that anything like that could ever happen to me. But then again I look back over 35 years from beginning to end of my study and work and the most beautiful experiences I have been showered with, I cannot ever doubt that our Mother and her son Jesus and our heavenly family and friends do love us and hear us and give us so much more than we can ever imagine. Along the long years of working with deep psychic, soul, heart pain, the most amazing miracles occurred. Babies saved, marriages saved, opening of thousands to the idea that abortion hurts women and men. Opening the discussion that abortion is not medical care but medical abuse. Letting politicians around the world hear (from me) to fight against abortion that it’s a demonic attempt to destroy the future, the children’s future. Much has been and is continuing to be spoken about the wounds of abortion and the wounds of sexual abuse of children, especially in their own home by so called loved ones, and the damage this does for their whole lifetime and the damage to that family.
I didn’t know but today I do know that when we just try, take one step, our God responds with over a thousand steps walked in His company..
