Luky:
THE SEVENTH of November has always been a red letter day in my life, as it marks the birthday of a near and dear one. When she was small she'd be counting the weeks and days leading up to it for months, giving us no chance to forget it.
One year's birthday was probably a lot different. As mother (at the time) of two and expecting her third child in another six months' time, she had enough to occupy her mind.
All the same, I phoned her that morning and she enthused about the lovely gifts her husband had brought her.
Unsuspecting
I on my side had good news too. My own husband, having successfully got over his operation, was coming home the next morning. We mutually expressed our pleasure and rang off.
Little did I know then that I was about to remember November the 7th for quite a different reason.
Just before ten that morning one of the matrons of the local hospital telephoned me. My husband was back in the intensive care unit of the surgical ward, she said, and she was sure I'd be wanting to see him to encourage him as soon as I could.
A nod is as good as a kick to a willing horse, so I went to my boss and got permission to go to the hospital.
Plugged in
Having arrived there I found my husband lying on a bed, tubes and bottles attached to several parts of his body. He was barely able to speak but the matron had explained to me that he had either got a clot in the lung, known a a pulmonary embolism, or in the heart; called a coronary thrombosis.
He had complained of a very severe pain across his chest. "I've nursed Mr Whittle for years", the matron said, "and I know him well enough to be aware that by the time he finally complains there is something seriously wrong."
Strong friend
I can't tell you how kind everyone was. As parents of one of the hospital's student nurses at the time, we received VIP treatment.
My old neighbour grabbed me as I was leaving the hospital on my way to I know not where and steered me back to the ward. She's a nursing sister and midwife and was a tower of strength to me in the eight years we lived next door to each other. It was like living next door to my doctor.
Complicated prang
When I pranged my car that morning, trying to get out of a parking place, three men helped to liberate me. If you gave me five thousand rand to repeat what I must have done to steer my car into such a position, I'd have to decline because I just don't understand how I managed it.
Please pray
Early next morning I telephoned my sister. My husband was on the critical list and my brother-in-law came to the phone and asked what he could do.
"Take all your children to church now on their way to school and have them pray a Hail Mary for their uncle", I pleaded.
He did that and more. That afternoon as I arrived again at the hospital, he was sitting outside my husband's ward. He had taken the day off and spent four hours driving my mother and sister to see me. I've always thought that man was a jewel; now I have proof.
My mother stayed and looked after the children for the next few days, much of which I spent as hospital.
It's good to have a family.
More to come
A second clot was to pass through my husband's lung before his agony was over. I received a letter from my colleagues at the office; all of them had gone into one office and prayed together for my husband's recovery. Everybody was praying, especially the lady who worked for us.
"I was so scared Mr Whittle was dying", she said.
The younger children, aware of the tension, became unbearable, looking for attention, arguing and quarrelling and crying hysterically over nothing.
Interesting incident
The day I knew things would improve I was seated in a little room outside the intensive care unit, talking to my daughter. I had been given permission to look in at my husband on the half-hour.
She had taken off her miraculous medal and handed it to me to put round her father's neck.
We were talking and I was gesticulating with the hand which held the medal. Suddenly I looked down on my knee, and there to my astonishment I found that the chain had arranged itself into the shape of that peculiar broad flat "M" on the back of the miraculous medal.
People have laughed at my assertions of miracles all my life so I said nothing about it. I wanted to make sure I wasn't mistaken.
'That's odd", I said to my daughter, "What does this remind you of?"
"The M on the back of the miraculous medal", she said. "And look next to it, that's a heart shape, also found on the back of the medal."
"Your father will be all right now", I said after marvelling for a little while, and handed her back her chain. "He won't need this."
I went into the ward and spoke to the heart specialist.
"Your husband is improving", he informed me, "though he's not out of danger yet."
It was all I could do not to tell him he was wrong. With such a powerful patroness as our Lady showing her very personal concern, I knew that no power on earth could prevent my husband from recovering.
Catherine Nicolette
Dad went on to make an uneventful recovery - an amazing turnaround as he had been critically ill. I have great devotion to Our Lady of the Miraculous Medal and both Mom and I received much comfort from the configuration of the chain. Do I believe this was a sign from God? The comfort I received when I saw the symbols of holiness was deep. In that moment I knew: all will be well.
Having been witness to many signs and wonders from God throughout my life, I would encourage you to look out in your own life for those moments in which God is present with comfort and hope.
The Miraculous Medal is a holy devotion which brings special spiritual protection and comfort. Why not find out more?
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