I was born a cradle Catholic, but I was never religious or put much faith into prayers or the Catholic Church. After my confirmation, church became less important to me, though we still attended mass on Sundays. However, as I had never devoted myself to prayer, I strayed from the Church for a fairly long period of time. All of this changed when I lost my father in November of 2015.
One quiet evening, I was watching the lighted fountains outside Vivocity with my son, Evan. At 10 months old, Evan is fascinated with water features, and so were many children other getting themselves soaked by standing over the fountain jets.
The Healing Priest was very much in demand and was unable to come to the hospital to see my daughter, but a man came by and said to him: “Father, where do you want to go today, I have my car and I am free to drive you anywhere”
My COVID-19 ordeal started four days after I arrived home from the UK at the end of March. I was not tested on arrival, so the moment I got home, I disinfected my luggage and self-isolated in my room as not to put the other six members of my household at risk.
It all began with growing up in a faith-filled family. Saturday mornings – a time when most kids would be with their parents at the beach or park. Yet, I was in the middle pews at the Novena Church with my parents, attending the Novena Services - having to memorise and say the novena prayers.
In Spring of 1916, the Angel of Peace appeared to three shepherd children, preparing them for what is to come. The Angel taught them some prayers. The following year, Our Lady appeared to the three shepherd children six times from May – October 1917.