I LOVE MY SAINTS!
It was the month of May in 1925. Maria had a little baby who had been ill since birth. Maria was very worried about her baby. In fact, after a medical visit, she was told her child had a very complicated illness. There was no hope for the baby: he could not recover. Maria decided to go by train to Saint Giovanni Rotondo. She lived in a very little town in the south of Puglia (a poor region in the South of Italy), but she had heard some stories concerning Padre Pio, a friar who had the stigmata like Jesus, worked miracles, healed people of their diseases, and gave hope to the hopeless. She immediately set out, but during the trip the baby died. She watched over his little body all night, then placed it in a suitcase and closed it. The following day she arrived at the convent of San Giovanni Rotondo. She had no hope, but she had not lost her faith. That evening she met Padre Pio. She was in the line of people waiting for confession, and she had in her hands the suitcase that contained her son’s body. Her son had died twenty-four hours before. When she arrived in front of Father Pio, she knelt down, cried, and asked his help. He looked at her intently. The mother opened the suitcase and showed Father Pio the corpse. The poor padre was very shocked by the mother’s sorrow. He took the little body and put his hand on the boy’s head; then he prayed, looking up to Heaven. In a moment, the poor creature was alive again. A gesture, a movement of the feet, the arms...he looked as if he had just awakened after a long sleep. Speaking to the mother Padre Pio said: “Mother, why are you crying? Your son is sleeping!” The mother’s shouts of joy, and those of the crowd, filled the church. Everyone spoke about the miracle!