Things become old much too quickly.

Imagine my delight, then, when last Friday I met someone who told me his Grandmother was present on October 13, 1917 at Fatima; she was personally present at the moment when the sun danced and fell out of the sky.

Suddenly Fatima jumped out of history like the sun did that day and became relevant and modern to me.

I jotted down the account she had told him so I would not miss any of the details. I write it here because, first of all, it’s a miraculous story, and second of all, even if we might already know what happened at Fatima, an eyewitnesses account of a miracle always serves to freshen the memory and more importantly our faith.

News spread throughout the village that Lucia de Jesus and Francisco and Jacinta Marto—whose feast day it is today, February 20th—had received an apparition of a “lady brighter then the sun.” The Lady was holding a Rosary and told the children to return for five consecutive months, on the thirteenth of each month; moreover, on the day of the last apparition there would be a sign visible to all. That day had finally arrived.

His grandmother left her nine year old brother to watch the sheep and headed out into the driving rain and dropping temperature. The ground was completely muddy and the rocks were slippery. Over seventy thousand people had made the trek that morning, making the traveling conditions even worse. By the time she reached the apparition sight she was covered head to toe in mud and her clothes were completely soaked.

All types of people had gathered: those with faith who knelt and prayed the Rosary, those who were curious, and then there were the communists and atheists, many of whom were cursing, chiding, and yelling out cat-calls to Jacinta and Lucia. As the time went on and conditions worsened, it seemed as though nothing would happen and it became very tense among the people.

Then the rain stopped and the clouds parted. The sun shined and began to change colors and spin around itself in a mad whirl. It glittered and began to whirl even more wildly. Suddenly it loosened itself from the sky and fell threateningly toward the seventy thousand gathered below. People screamed. Many dropped face down into the mud or dropped to their knees. Those next to her who had been swearing began to cry for mercy. Then, just as quickly as it had started, it ended. The sun was back in its place.

Her hair, skin, and clothes were completely dry.  The ground around her was dry. There was no trace of mud on her. She felt completely clean, both inside and out. A man from her village who was crippled was able to walk. Several others who were sick were cured.

She prayed three Rosaries daily for the rest of her life in honor of what Mary asked, that we “say the Rosary every day, to bring peace to the world and an end to war.”

I know what my Lenten resolution will be this year: three daily Rosaries for peace. I invite you to the same.

If you haven’t seen it already I wholeheartedly recommend the 13th Day, an incredible film about the historic, but not ancient, event of Fatima.

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