It was so many years ago. An extremely remarkable day, so I will never forget it: “The day I met the Pope John Paul II”.

I was still living in Brazil. My husband was coming to London to business meetings, and invited me to come with him on a trip to some places in Europe. On this occasion, my mother was seriously ill. My intention was to visit Rome and see the Pope Paul II. I come from a Catholic family, so I wanted to pray and ask God to make my mother feel better.

When we arrived in the Vatican, it was impossible to get tickets for the public visit. In the winter people don’t meet the Pope outside of St. Peter’s Basilica, they congregate in a closed and protected location, an auditorium for about two thousand people. To go inside we needed to get tickets previously. I was so close to him, I felt that this moment would be my last chance… the day after we would be in Paris.

While we wondered what to do, unexpectedly a priest with a group of teenagers was going inside, so close to us that we distinctly heard that two people were missing in his group. I couldn’t believe it. The next moment I was sitting down in one of the last seats of a huge and beautiful auditorium. Unfortunately I had little possibility of getting closer to the Pope since I was at the back of the auditorium. Therefore I wrote on a piece of paper: “Brazil, pray for my mother”, and I kept this piece of paper tightly in my hands.

I knew that he had a special feeling for Brazilian people. So, I just stayed quiet and waited for what would happen. A few hours later, when the ceremony had ended, I was surprised to see the Pope come through a long, very long aisle that opened from the front up to the very rear of the auditorium, were we were.

He started to walk, blessing people as he came. I wished so much that he would reach me, but I was so far away, and the auditorium was so large. I was very excited, and so emotional, that I started to cry. So, as quickly as I could, I hid myself behind a lady and stretched my arm holding that piece of paper. This was my trilling moment. While walking along the aisle the Pope wasn’t stopping for anybody. When he came to me, he looked at me, and started to talk in my own language. He asked me from which part of Brazil I came from. I couldn’t stop crying… it was a great a very touching moment. While he was giving me a special blessing for my family, people behind me held on to my clothes firmly, as if through them they could get some of the blessing. After this moment, he kissed my forehead and held me in an affectionate embrace for some moments.

After returning from my trip I went to my mother’s house to visit her because she had had a stroke before I left. She was much better than before, her mouth had straightened out and she could close one of her eyes that were always open. I believe God listened to my prayers at that magical moment.

MARIA LUCIA DA COSTA

ROME, 1993 – THE HOLY YEAR