RELI 209 Creative Writing Assignment
Erika Morris
Dec.3, 2018
My name is Ruth and I am 75 years old. I have been a pious Catholic my entire life. Today, my social life revolves entirely around my Church. My friends all come to mass with me several times a week, I am part of two choirs, and I pray for my loved ones every single day.
My first memory of practicing my piety is from when I was four years old and had a tapeworm. It lasted until I was 5 years old. In 1946 remedies for tapeworms weren’t well-known yet. My mother, coming from a religious background, made me pray to Saint-Joseph, a healer. These are the first memories I have of praying.
When I was old enough for high school, my parents sent me to a pensionary where I lived with nuns, just like all my siblings. I was 14 years old when I first got to the pensionary and stayed until I was 17 years old. We would go to mass every day and I meditated for 15 minutes every morning. We said grace before every meal and recited the rosaries every evening. We learned wonderful things at the pensionary. I learned to paint, to type, ceramics, making jewelry, and to sing. I was confirmed, and I thought that was the most beautiful of the rites we have as Catholics. I also had the eucharist along with all the sacraments. Those brought me closer to God. Some of the Sisters thought I would become a nun myself because I followed the rules so well, but I couldn't see myself following this path. It's funny, when you're raised by nuns religion becomes your everything. Even back home with my parents we recited the rosary with the radio at 7pm without fault. Every New Year, my father would bless us with his prayers.
As I grew older, I came to witness what I believe to be many miracles. I knew a small boy who would squirm a lot; he wouldn’t gain weight and had problems with his appetite. His parents were at a loss on what to do. I told them about my experiences as a child with worms, which the boy did indeed have, and suggested they pray to Saint-Joseph. I gave them tokens and prayer cards to guide them. A few weeks later I got a call from the boy’s mother telling me that he had been cured.
One of my best friends has had many cancers throughout her life. Her first cancer needed many operations and chemotherapy. She was told it was terminal. The following year, she developed a cancer in her left lung. Whenever she would get a new diagnosis, she would call me and we would pray to Saint-Peregrine together as he is the patron of cancer patients. She recently was told that her cancers had spread to her cerebellum and that she only had a few months to live. A week ago, her specialist told her that she was supposed to die six years ago. He told her he had seen cancer patients who extended their lifetimes by making serious lifestyle changes, but she was not one of them. What she did have was the power of prayer with Saint-Peregrine. “Every time I get a new diagnosis, Ruth and I will do a novena together,” she told the specialist. Prayer can save you, and she is living proof!
I never had any doubts with my faith. I was raised in religion. I never questioned whether there was a God; I already knew there was one. I felt Him with me since I was a child. I always followed what the Sisters told me. I think that being a practicing Catholic is the most beautiful thing in the world.
About a year ago, I met Jesus himself and obtained a miracle healing. Before I left for a trip to Rome, I had bleeding in my retinas and cataracts. My doctor told me I would need to be operated for these as they were starting to become concerning. I scheduled an appointment with him after my trip to look at my options. I spent a few weeks in Rome with my husband, my son, and his fiancee. It was a wonderful trip. We visited the Vatican, where I saw the Pope and touched his hand. This was a magical moment for me. Later that same day we went to church. The church was full; mine back home has never been so full. It was a warm day, about 17 degrees Celcius, so not too hot. All of a sudden, I began to sweat. A lot. Way more than one would in 17 degrees weather. Behind the priest giving the sermon was a screen which I had been staring at. I turned away and looked around when suddenly I could no longer see the room. I saw the temple splitting in half. I saw Jesus himself break free from the nails that held him and step off the cross to walk toward me. I couldn’t believe it. I thought I was going insane. I knew I couldn’t tell my family what I saw, they would just get very concerned at my hallucination.
When I got back home from my trip, I went to see my eye doctor who told me that surgery wasn’t going to be needed after all and that the chronic bleeding in my retinas had stopped. He was incredulous; he’d never seen a recovery like this before. I told him I hadn’t done anything different and so he said that it must be a miracle. I know he is also Catholic, so I took his word very seriously. I then went to mass, as per usual, and decided to tell my pastor of what I saw in Rome. He listened very carefully and gravely. He told me that I had indeed experienced a miracle, but to stay quiet about it. He told me that if I were ever to boast about my recovery, it could be taken away. One must stay humble, as Jesus himself. The only other person I told was my granddaughter.
You see, my life revolves around prayer and I believe that there is nothing more beautiful or valuable as faith.