This morning at 4:30 AM in Spain we received a call from Joe’s sister Mary that his mom has taken a turn for the worse. She may have had one or more TIAs and is not able to eat, and cannot speak without much confusion. The hospital has done all they can do for her and the family will be bringing her home under hospice care. She is struggling to be peaceful. Please pray for her to have peace.
We went to mass this morning to pray for her and for all of us. The little ladies from town that we talked with yesterday told us there was a mass today at 8:30. When we went to the church, I tried to open the latch but the door was locked.
La Anunciata de Villafranca
We walked further down the building looking for another door. We heard the big door being opened behind us, and a teeny little old nun with glasses was peeking out, beckoning us to come in, smiling and welcoming. We followed her into the dark, still, empty church and she walked up to the altar and motioned us further in to a little chapel off to the right.
In the chapel was one priest with bedhead and six teeny old bespectacled nuns who were in black habits with long rosaries and nun sandals.
The chapel was about twenty feet square with only the nine of us at mass. The pews were of heavy wood, and the floor was old pine with square nails. The nuns all looked just like Nonna. When mass started and I looked up at them, they were all peering at us and motioning us to follow in the hymnal. Their obvious joy and love just went straight to my heart and I started to cry. I was thinking how happy Nonna would be to see these darling messengers of God. I was weeping and sniffling without Kleenex, wiping my nose on the sleeve of my REI shirt. I am sure they thought we were the strangest pilgrims in the world, showing up to cry. But they sign-languaged us through the mass and the priest asked us to the altar for a special pilgrim blessing. We stayed after to try to speak to the sisters, and had a halting conversation. They rattled Spanish and we blurted out key words with wrong endings… madre… infirma… muerta.
Antonette had given us $25 for prayers and Joe gave it to the sister with Antonette’s name. The sister said “Italiano?” She was very animated to tell us the sepulcher and the reliquaries on the right of the altar were from a Capuchin monk from Brindisi, and was very pleased to know that Antonette came from Bari, nodding and smiling. She told us “Si es la vida”, and kept checking that Antonette is not suffering. They will be praying for her, as will we.
We have started the process of getting out of Spain to come home and will post updates. God bless all our family and friends.