Debi with her white shawl
...All of a sudden, I saw a white light over to my right. As I looked at the light, I saw a woman come out of the light and sit down on a rock near us. She was wearing a long white dress and white veil. She was sitting in a listening pose, her head bent towards us. She looked like a statue: the folds in her dress did not move, her head did not turn. She reminded me of Michelangelo's statue of the Pieta, the Madonna, because she was in that kind of a pose. She seemed to be lit from within – illuminated and glowing. (I am embarrassed to admit that I thought she was rude to sit there and listen to all of the pain in our lives.)
Vicka right before she prayed over Debi
One of the guys, noticing the time, said it was time to leave. Joe and Tom carried Paul right past this 'lady in white' and walked to the bottom of Apparition Hill. I did not want to walk by her, because I knew she heard everything I said, and I was ashamed. However, the moment I stood, so did she. She walked right up to me and said, "This is for you." I did not even look to see what she was giving me. I was so overwhelmed by her compassion, that I put my arms around her and hugged her. I laid my head on her shoulder and cried. Jeff, standing behind me, kept saying: "Come on, Debi, it's time to go," and he pulled me away from her. When I looked down, I saw that she had given me her white shawl, made of the same fabric as her dress and veil. It was very soft. As I held it, I thought, 'I will always remember what compassion feels like!' Then I looked up into her face and said, "Thank you." She gave me the most wonderful smile, like she loved me.
Later, on our way to Vicka's to hear her testimony, I asked Joe who he thought the lady in white was who appeared to us at the Blue Cross. "I think it was the Blessed Mother," he said. When we assembled at Vicka's house, the interpreter was talking about Mary's messages to us. The hardest part of the message, for me, was hearing about forgiveness, because I believed that I would never be able to forgive myself for causing so much pain in so many people's lives. I felt like I was light years away from peace.
As Vicka was praying over the group, a conversation that Debbie 's mom had with me that night in the restaurant, that I had blocked out of my mind, came back to me clearly. She had told me that she took a room across from the hospital so that she could go back-and-forth every day to visit her daughter in the burn unit. She always stopped at the chapel to pray to our Blessed Mother. She said that she had a close relationship with Mary because Mary knew what it was like to see Her child suffer and die. (I was really troubled by that story.) One day, while kneeling in the chapel and praying to Our Lady of Perpetual Help, someone tapped Debbie 's mom on the back. She turned around and saw a lady in white standing there. The lady said to her, "Do you have somebody here in the hospital?" She said, "Yes, my daughter is here." This lady in white said to her: "You don't need to pray for your daughter. It is God's Will what happened. You need to pray that you have the grace to accept God's will for your daughter." Then this lady disappeared. She did not walk out of the chapel; she just disappeared.
After Debbie died, her mom said, "I know that God sent that lady to me to let me know that Debbie was going to be in Heaven." She told me she never had to go to a support group for parents who have lost a child, because she knew God called her daughter to be with Him.
Here I am, standing in front of Vicka, KNOWING that God sent that same lady in white to me. The lady who appeared to my friend's mom in the hospital chapel in 1969 was now appearing to me in 1997. And I knew, without a doubt, that THAT was the 'great big sign' that had my name on it! That was the moment that I knew God was real and that He loved me. When Vicka reached out and prayed over me, I knew God was confirming that He really did send me help from Heaven. The shawl that I was given was truly a gift from the LORD!
Later, on our way to Vicka's to hear her testimony, I asked Joe who he thought the lady in white was who appeared to us at the Blue Cross. "I think it was the Blessed Mother," he said. When we assembled at Vicka's house, the interpreter was talking about Mary's messages to us. The hardest part of the message, for me, was hearing about forgiveness, because I believed that I would never be able to forgive myself for causing so much pain in so many people's lives. I felt like I was light years away from peace.
As Vicka was praying over the group, a conversation that Debbie 's mom had with me that night in the restaurant, that I had blocked out of my mind, came back to me clearly. She had told me that she took a room across from the hospital so that she could go back-and-forth every day to visit her daughter in the burn unit. She always stopped at the chapel to pray to our Blessed Mother. She said that she had a close relationship with Mary because Mary knew what it was like to see Her child suffer and die. (I was really troubled by that story.) One day, while kneeling in the chapel and praying to Our Lady of Perpetual Help, someone tapped Debbie 's mom on the back. She turned around and saw a lady in white standing there. The lady said to her, "Do you have somebody here in the hospital?" She said, "Yes, my daughter is here." This lady in white said to her: "You don't need to pray for your daughter. It is God's Will what happened. You need to pray that you have the grace to accept God's will for your daughter." Then this lady disappeared. She did not walk out of the chapel; she just disappeared.
After Debbie died, her mom said, "I know that God sent that lady to me to let me know that Debbie was going to be in Heaven." She told me she never had to go to a support group for parents who have lost a child, because she knew God called her daughter to be with Him.
Here I am, standing in front of Vicka, KNOWING that God sent that same lady in white to me. The lady who appeared to my friend's mom in the hospital chapel in 1969 was now appearing to me in 1997. And I knew, without a doubt, that THAT was the 'great big sign' that had my name on it! That was the moment that I knew God was real and that He loved me. When Vicka reached out and prayed over me, I knew God was confirming that He really did send me help from Heaven. The shawl that I was given was truly a gift from the LORD!
We went back to the Blue Cross that evening, and this time it was me that wanted to pray. Tom said, "I have to tell you a story". Five years earlier, his uncle, a priest, took a group of pilgrims to Medjugorje. As they climbed Mount Krizevac, they saw a lady in white effortlessly walking above the rocks while everyone else was struggling to climb over the rocks. The pilgrims wanted to talk to her, but they could not catch up to her. The priest told the pilgrims that he would ask Vicka who the 'lady in white' was that everyone saw. Vicka said it was the Blessed Mother, who climbs the mountain every day, praying for peace. That was the moment I knew I would never spend another moment hating myself. I figured that if God loved me that much – that He would send this special lady to me – I needed to forgive myself, and allow God to heal me.
One week after I got home, on the night before the anniversary of the car accident, my husband and I drove to a nearby town to pick up his car. I confided to him that I was nervous about going to work the next day, as that anniversary date was always so painful to me. I was afraid my memories would crash over me and I would lose my composure at work. As I pulled out of the parking lot of the car dealer, I could not see out my windshield. Even though it wasn't dark yet, I couldn't see the road. I stopped my car, put my window down, and looked out to see what the problem could be. I saw the sun spinning; it was pulsating and the colors were radiating out from it. The sun was leaving the sky and coming right up to my face. I thought, 'Wow! The miracle of the sun at home! I thought Mary lived in Medjugorje!'
That night I consecrated myself and my family to God and to the Blessed Mother. I knew She was saying that I was going to be all right tomorrow, the anniversary date of the accident, and through all of my tomorrows, because She would be with me.
When I woke up the next day, instead of thinking about the car accident, I thought about the beauty and awesomeness of seeing the miracle of the sun in my hometown. That image got me through the whole day. When I got home from work, I went upstairs to my room and got all of the medication out of my drawer and I threw it away. I then called the psychiatrist and said, "I need to come down one more time. I want to say goodbye." Even though this doctor was not Catholic, he believed every word I shared and was moved by my story. He said, "I am so happy for you, but I am so sad that it took 27 years for you to experience peace." I happily reminded him that indeed, 27 years is a long time to suffer. But in God's time, 27 years is a blink of the eye!...
One week after I got home, on the night before the anniversary of the car accident, my husband and I drove to a nearby town to pick up his car. I confided to him that I was nervous about going to work the next day, as that anniversary date was always so painful to me. I was afraid my memories would crash over me and I would lose my composure at work. As I pulled out of the parking lot of the car dealer, I could not see out my windshield. Even though it wasn't dark yet, I couldn't see the road. I stopped my car, put my window down, and looked out to see what the problem could be. I saw the sun spinning; it was pulsating and the colors were radiating out from it. The sun was leaving the sky and coming right up to my face. I thought, 'Wow! The miracle of the sun at home! I thought Mary lived in Medjugorje!'
That night I consecrated myself and my family to God and to the Blessed Mother. I knew She was saying that I was going to be all right tomorrow, the anniversary date of the accident, and through all of my tomorrows, because She would be with me.
When I woke up the next day, instead of thinking about the car accident, I thought about the beauty and awesomeness of seeing the miracle of the sun in my hometown. That image got me through the whole day. When I got home from work, I went upstairs to my room and got all of the medication out of my drawer and I threw it away. I then called the psychiatrist and said, "I need to come down one more time. I want to say goodbye." Even though this doctor was not Catholic, he believed every word I shared and was moved by my story. He said, "I am so happy for you, but I am so sad that it took 27 years for you to experience peace." I happily reminded him that indeed, 27 years is a long time to suffer. But in God's time, 27 years is a blink of the eye!...
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