Monday, January 30, 2012

A Dream Of St. Anthony

My father was a lax Baptist but a wonderful Dad and husband. As such he knew nothing about Saints. One day, he lost something and demanded to know whether there was a saint for "lost stuff." I told him about Saint Anthony. From then on whenever he lost anything Daddy would ask St. Anthony for help, but in a not very respectful way. I hated the fact he would approach a Saint of God that way, and I would scold him for it. But the saint would always help my father find lost things. "Tony understands me," Daddy would say.

Years later when my father was dying, I was living and working somewhere else, and I was worried about what was going to happen with my dad. The whole family thought that he would die on the same date as my mother did years before on June 17th. The early morning of June 13th, I had a dream in which I saw a fairly stout looking man dressed as a Franciscan come over to a hospital bed where my father was lying in a coma. I saw this friar lean over and pat my father's face and say, "Pablito, Pablito then it sounded like, vente, vente!"

Then in the dream I saw something rise out from my father's body and form a shape just like my father used to look when he was young and vigorous. He looked at the friar and frowned. Before he could say anything the friar took my father by the hand and spoke to him something like Ici, then he patted his chest and said what sounded like Souez Antonio, Vente,"

My father looked confused but when the friar put out his hand to him, Daddy took it, smiled shyly, put his head down like a child and they walked away into this really bright light that led up into the ceiling. Then they were gone. A few minutes later I called my sister and found out that Daddy had gone.

So, to this day, Saint Anthony is our family patron saint.