Madame Cat of Now what Cat? blog has been my email correspondent (sa tagalog ka chikahan) and a friend for sometime now. Aside from the fact that we’re both opinionated when it comes to politics, we also share the same faith wherein I only realized after I saw her link to Fr. Suarez, the healing priest. Some of you doesn’t know that Madame Cat (as I call her out of august respect), aside from her hard-hitting, no-nonesense views of issues in the blogosphere and politics, is also a very devout Catholic. Although I am aware that she was the first people who used the blogosphere during the time that it wasn’t even popular, yet for me, her faith and being a catholic, defines her more in the blogosphere than being a thorn in the flesh for some of the pseudo intellectuals out there.

Yesterday I emailed her about podcasting. Until we came up with the topic about Mama Mary. There was this mini sharing of our devotions and experiences until I learned that she had two miracles in the past. Of Course as a catholic news-monger-slash-tsismoso, I asked her if I could pick it up and feature it here on my blog. Actually I was intending to ask her if she could write for me her experience as a guest blogger for OTWOMD, but she already wrote it down on her blog. So, she was kind enough to email me the two stories which you are about to read. 

I don’t usually have a fine knack for falling for weeping statues because as dictated by my training in the seminary, there are signs in which you can discern if a miracle is divine in nature or just humanly infused. Yet also with my training comes the attitude of openness to all human experiences which I learned from my former Capuchin education. And knowing Madame Cat (at least based on her writings and comments) as an objective and prudent person (you should see her credentials wow), she could have not just made this up or concoct these things from the figment of her imagination. After reading her story, I believed her with no questions asked.

There are two kinds of divine revelations: Personal and Pastoral. Personal revelations are not condemned by the church since our soul communicates with God in ways that we sometimes doesnt understand. And God, as the master of our soul, responds to us in ways that even others cannot comprehend. I myself had similar strage experiences in my life which until now I cannot explain, yet these miracles that happens to us, with or without the approval of our peers, brings a more universal message: That anything is possible with God.

So as we celebrate my Birth Month, and the Month of Mary, and the Feast of Our Lady of Fatima, I am reposting this blog entry of Madame Cat for everyone to read and be inspired. In our present age, miracles have a different connotation. But let these stories give the word a radical definition to it: A Miracle.

Bloody Good Friday, The Weeping Statue of the Virgin Mary and the miracle

Before I left for the US, a friend brought me to a village where there was a reported incident of the religious icons shading not tears but oil.

It was a private residence of a family who had a son in vegetative state. They constructed a little chapel in their former garage. The public was welcomed to pray or meditate in a small area where a dozen or so chairs were provided. The altar was elevated and was secured with iron grills so that even though the public can get inside the small chapel, they could not get near the altar.

The altar houses the statues of the Blessed Virgin Mary, St. Joseph, some saints which I could not remember and the two- foot high Sto Nino which was believed to be disappearing every now and then.

My two friends, knelt and prayed. I just sat down and observed. I was expecting that the phenomenon of “oil spilling” is going to happen. We learned that the owner of the chapel does not grant interviews to journalists despite the “miracle’ that’s reported to be happening. The lady of the house did not want to disturb the tranquility in the village and she did not want some fanatics to use the place for their cause.

We went back as per request of my friend who had a problem about her husband.
So I went. Just like the previous visit, I stayed at the back and watched. The lady near me said that she was going to undergo surgery.

They were all concentrated in praying. Then I saw something’s happening to the face of the statue of the Blessed Virgin. It was becoming shiny. Next was the statue of St. Joseph and the Sto. Nino.

The oil was spilling all over the altar that the owner and a relative came with lots of towels to absorb them.

It continued to flow past the altar and onto the floor.

At that time, I murmured or more of a question. Are you doing this to make me believe? I, who do not need to see a weeping statue to know that there is indeed a miracle.

That phenomenon did not reach the media as far as I know. All what they were praying for was for the healing of their son.

Sometimes, healing of the physical is not granted but spiritual healing is awarded.

May 1990. The Story of the Miracle in the Loakan Airport in Baguio City

We had just finished our summer camp at the Teachers’ Camp. My friend brought his car with him with the intent to drive around and to buy dozens of Baguio brooms in the last day of the training.

It was unselfish of us not to invite anybody else because we would like to cover
more shopping places. First, we decided to go the Grotto. This is the shrine of the Lourdes of France, a tourist spot, a mecca for many Marians. That was our first time to go all by ourselves with a car. We used to ride in a van with a group and spared us from the trouble of finding Landmarks. Unlucky me, I was with the human species that would not ask for directions, so we did not find the way going there.

Instead, we went to the Loakan Airport. He said that he had heard of a “himala” story in a chapel by the airstrip. What about checking out its authenticity although the said “”miracle “ happened already years ago?

We used the unpaved road leading to the chapel for a shortcut.When we got there,
at high noon, the place seemed to be deserted. The caretaker was standing a few meters away from the church patio.He just gave us a glance as we were about to enter the chapel and continued with his carpentry works.

The church was empty. The pews were arranged circular in manner. The altar was elevated with the bigger than life-size Blessed Virgin of Loakan at the center.

Unlike the other Virgin icons, this One was without a heavily beaded/gold-embroidered raiment. Covering its simple blue robe were dried droplets of blood emanating from its exposed heart. At the left corner of the altar, were old pictures and laminated pages of the newspapers where the story about the miracle was published.

My discerning eyes caught a troubling difference between the Icon in the altar
and the photo in the old newspapers. The Blessed Virgin in the altar was not a
wearing a crown of stars; the old photo did.

As I was in these thoughts, I felt the earth shook. Before I can go back to here my companion was, I saw the rocks falling from the ceiling of the chapel. The building was coming down, so I thought.

Afraid of the continuous shaking and the debris falling to me, I just closed my eyes and prayed. That must have lasted for minutes. When I opened my eyes, it was all quiet, No earthquake, No falling debris. I nervously left the altar and sought my companion who was seated in the first row of the pews at the center aisle.

I told him that there was an earthquake. He said yes. I was about to say whew when he continued, Yes, but it was only you who felt it. How did he know that I felt an earthquake and he knew. He said that he saw me swinging front and back without falling. All the time, I was shielding myself and my eyes were closed. He added further that he attempted to take my picture but the two camera won’t work. Going back to our group, we decided to keep mum about it. But when we were having our dinner, my companion could not resist telling the story.

Our eldest in the group told me that Mama Mary must be testing my faith.

In July 16, 1990, there was a strong earthquake in Baguio. She must be sending a message but I never realized it was going to happen.