Our Lady Of Fire
Country : Italy
Year :
The whole thing began and ended with Our Lady: for eight days Pedro had lit a candle before his tiny homemade shrine; and thanks to the goodness of our Lady, Pedro was selling more beans and rice, more cake, more of everything than ever before. More people crowded into his movie house; yes, the Little Madonna was helping. Today Pedro would light his ninth and last candle for a favor, which, if granted would complete his happiness. Pedro watched the candlelight dance happily and thought he saw Our Lady smile. He blew a kiss to her and bounced heavily down the stairs to his dinner.
Suddenly from across the street the Padres’ cook screamed, “Fire! There’s a fire in Pedro’s bar.” The four Redemptorist Fathers rushed across the square; flames were shooting from the roof; smoke billowing from the windows. Winds blew the flames toward the school and convent; people were trying to salvage Pedro’s goods’ people screaming threw belongings out of windows. Tabagi had no fire department, so all hands capable tried to help wherever they could. The four Padres organized groups to empty houses, to tear down burning fences, to form a bucket brigade and to keep the fire fighters supplied with water from the river. The Padres at least were not hysterical.
At this point the Reverend Rector decided to follow the advice he had always preached in his sermons, “When you need help…any kind of help…go to Our Blessed Lady!” when the whole scene looked darkest, he went round and gathered the people, led them into the church, where he began reciting the rosary, asking Mary to stop the fire.
Some might call it a daring thing to do; suppose the prayers were not heard? But prayers are not heard unless there is confidence, childlike trust in the ability of Our Mother; and so, while half the town worked, the other half prayed. From her square old picture over the main altar, Mary looked at the Pastor standing in the aisle with his rosary in his hand she looked past the kneeling nuns and the children. She saw the people who came to the evening devotions to sing her praises. She saw the flame that danced happily in her honor before the tiny homemade shrine…the same flame that had started the disaster in Pedro’s bar.
Some might call it a daring thing to do; suppose the prayers were not heard? But prayers are not heard unless there is confidence, childlike trust in the ability of Our Mother; and so, while half the town worked, the other half prayed. From her square old picture over the main altar, Mary looked at the Pastor standing in the aisle with his rosary in his hand she looked past the kneeling nuns and the children. She saw the people who came to the evening devotions to sing her praises. She saw the flame that danced happily in her honor before the tiny homemade shrine…the same flame that had started the disaster in Pedro’s bar.
They had recited ten Hail Mary’s of the Rosary when Mary stepped in to answer their plea. Suddenly the wind died down. The flames subsided. When the people came streaming out of the church after saying the rosary, they stared to see the excitement all but over. People were now leisurely carting their belongings back to their houses. No more shrieks or screams. Tia Fora, the Padres’ old Negro cook, sat on the church steps and puffed on her pipe. Shaking her old gray head, she agreed; “This was Tibagi’s worst fire in my seventy-five years. Our Lady may hae started it, I do not know. But I’m sure it was she who put it out.”
