I remember reading somewhere that Padre Pio said if we could see the host of evil spirits hovering over us and preying on our souls we would die of fright. I also read that he said this evil is countered by the presence of a saint in every street. This saint could simply be a good soul who checks on an elderly neighbour who lives alone. There are many other types of unsung saints out there. Here is the story of one. It concerns a distant cousin of mine from Co Tyrone in Northern Ireland. She died giving birth to her eigth child. Her husband raised the family with help of family and friends. He never remarried. He always wanted to be buried next to hus wife. When he died the grave grave digger put his shovel through the lid of his wife's coffin which came off as he pulled it up. This revealed his wife as fresh as the day she died. This is often a sign of sanctity. My dad told me this story and I think he said she had never been embalmed. They were too poor for that. She had the reputation of being a very good woman. Anyway the grave digger immediately told the parish priest what he had discovered. The priest was a wise and holy man. He contacted the children who were adults by then and had never seen their mother and told them what had happened. He asked if they would like to see her. My dad said they all took this opportunity to see their mum. They all decided, and the parish priest agreed it was prudent, to keep it quiet. Their mother was laid to rest again and their Dad's funeral took place as normal. They kept the secret in the family believing that their mum had just been given back to them for that day.
Glad you enjoyed it. I was born in Scotland and both grandfathers were Irish. Wish I could remember all dads stories. I'm off to the gym now. Need to lose weight. Have a good day.
Ha.Ha. Very funny. As a child I used to go out on Lough Neigh in Northern Ireland with my cousins who were eel fishermen. It was a great privilege to be given the helm and steer the boat back into harbour - The Batttery. They were not daft, those cousins - after the privilege came the work, reading and repairing the nets. None of the fishermen. could swim. They just put a miraculous medal in the bow of the boat and hoped for the best. As far as I know none of them drowned. One day we were returning in the fog with the catch. My cousin John was at the helm and the throttle. He opened it up to show off his 'new' motor and hit a submerged rock - I think they called it Agleesh's rock - there was tremendous bang as the rock went through the bottom of the boat and we came to a grinding halt, the eels flew into the air and smoke belched from the engine that had been adapted from an old truck. I swam to shore for help and was hailed as a local hero. Just cause I could swim. Fishing rights on the Lough were monitored by local bailiffs who were highly corrupt. Both sides of the community, Catholic and Protestant, suffered from this. One day the local parish priest got all the fishermen together and formed a cooperative. From that day on they were self regulating and controlled their own fishing rights. This was the first local example of both communities working together peacefully to their common good. Perhaps that parish priest is another unsung saint.
