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Do you have a story about an experience with your own personal communion of saints?

Submit your reflection by typing in the box below and then clicking the Submit Reflection button. Your reflections will be forwarded to an editor before being considered for posting on the AmericanCatholic.org Web site and inclusion in St. Anthony Messenger magazine. You may view other readers’ reflections below.

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Great Aunt in a Room

When I was 15 my great aunt became ill with what they called the "Hong Kong" flu. As she was single and in her 70's my parents asked her to recover with our family in the suburbs. As it turned out she died suddenly in our home of a cerebral hemmorhage, unrelated to her current illness. About a month later my mom and I were watching TV in our family room, when a rustle of air and wind and a smell of perfume glided through the space. My mother and I looked at each other and said at the same time, "Aunt Helen" and we knew she had come through to say goodbye.

Susan Dunn
Arlington Heights Illinois
Thursday, June 17, 2010


My mother

My mother died January 5, 2010. I was with her in our family home in Florida the last 3 months while she was a hospice patient with lung cancer. She died peacefully in her sleep. The morning she died I suddenly awoke at 4 am, finally about 5 am I tiptoed downstairs, made my pot of tea and quietly read my morning devotions. Also I gathered some old magazines to go through before throwing them away, one being the St. Anthony Messenger from November 2009. I read Surrounded by Saints and decided to clip it and save it, I mean, my mother did have a terminal illness and I might want to re-read it later. Finally about 8 am I went to wake my mom and discovered she had died during the night. She had lung cancer and had been diagnosed for 20 months, my father had died 4 months after her diagnosis, and she had been facing a grim ending and knew it. She died peacefully and we never had to open the hospice box of pain medicines. The night before she had a nice meal and we watched Antiques Roadshow on PBS, it had just been a normal evening.

Now for my sign---the day before she died she told me she wanted to go back upstairs to her bedroom (my parents had converted our downstairs den into a bedroom 3 years prior) I told her whenever she felt like going up I would move the oxygen machine around and help her. The next morning after the funeral home had removed her body and I was talking with her best friend I ran upstairs to get a dress out of the closet that I thought would be appropriate to bury her in and as I walked into her bedroom a picture was off the wall and on the floor---it was over by her side of the bed. I had been in the room the day before and it was on the wall. When I asked the hospice nurse what time she thought my mother died, she estimated around 4 am--the time I woke up.

 Several days later our next door neighbor asked me that same question, when I told her she told me she was dreaming about a "commotion of angels flying out the upstairs window" about 4 am and woke up. My mother died peacefully and I have a feeling of her flying past my bedroom door, visiting her bedroom one last time and leaving through the window. Thank you for the article I read that morning. It has been 3 months now and I have been wanting to write you this ever since. I also have a story about my father's sign but that is for later.



Elizabeth
Arlington Virginia
Wednesday, April 14, 2010


Dream visits

I am the only girl and youngest of a family of five children. My parents felt the need to move closer to me as they aged because my brothers lived in states far from Wisconsin. My dad was stricken with the flesh-eating disease shortly after I gave birth to my long awaited second child, a girl. He clung to life for five months while my mother and I held out hope that he would get better. He passed away when my daughter was 6-1/2 months old. I felt so cheated by his absence in my new daughters life as my dad was so excited about her. Four months after he died, I returned to bed one morning after my husband had left for work and my 9 year old son off to school as the baby was still sleeping. I fell asleep and began dreaming that my dad had come into my bedroom from a direction that I knew he had checked on baby Monica. He caught my attention as he accidentally banged his hand on the door and rattled a plastic bag in which he was going to collect the trash from my bedroom (a chore he always did when I was a child). He walked up to me, held my hand while I babbled how I had missed him. I started to awaken and could hear myself babbling yet still felt the pressure of my dad's hand holding mine. I was fully awake and could still feel his touch. I denied the dream for several days until I repeated it enough to family and friends that I realized my dad came to comfort me with the knowledge that he would still look out for the little baby he barely got to hold. I knew he was also thanking me by holding my hand as I had done for months for him.

Fast forward through 7 years caring for my mother who developed dementia and Parkinson's disease after my dad's death. Many times I felt alone while trying to handle various problems with her and would cry out to my dad to help me; the answer always came from my earthly father or my heavenly Father without fail. When my mother left this earth I felt a deep sense of loss for having cared for someone right alongside of that little baby who was now getting ready to go off to school! My mother visited me one night in a dream many months after she had passed. We sat on a park bench together and I laid my head in her lap and she lovingly stroked my hair. I really don't like anyone "messing" with my hair so I knew it was a sign from my mother that she had appreciated all that I had done for her and was caring for me once again. Thank you for your wonderful article in St. Anthony Messenger magazine as it reaffirmed my feelings of reaching out for help from those saints with the little "s"!



Susan Swinick
Mosinee Wisconsin
Sunday, January 24, 2010


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Cecilia: Although Cecilia is one of the most famous of the Roman martyrs, the familiar stories about her are apparently not founded on authentic material. There is no trace of honor being paid her in early times. A fragmentary inscription of the late fourth century refers to a church named after her, and her feast was celebrated at least in 545. 
<p>According to legend, Cecilia was a young Christian of high rank betrothed to a Roman named Valerian. Through her influence Valerian was converted, and was martyred along with his brother. The legend about Cecilia’s death says that after being struck three times on the neck with a sword, she lived for three days, and asked the pope to convert her home into a church. </p><p>Since the time of the Renaissance she has usually been portrayed with a viola or a small organ.</p> American Catholic Blog In our current culture, the concept of virtue is often considered outdated and old-fashioned, but for Catholics, becoming virtuous is essential for eternal salvation. Relativists and atheists don’t think so, but our Catholic faith holds that it is crucial.

 
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