Friday, September 27, 2013

Vicka, Cross Mountain, and Ukrainian Angels

 

Vicka Speaks to Us

   We arose very early this morning in order to get an early breakfast and take a bus ride to an orphanage. We arrived at the orphanage around 7 A.M.  We were near the front of the line in an area that Vicka, one of the visionaries, was to speak to us from a porch.  A group of Italians, numbering perhaps in the dozens were ahead of us.  We stood quietly waiting for Vicka as more and more people assembled to hear her messages from Mary.  But before Vicka spoke to us, she blessed all the priests from different countries who had gathered inside the orphanage.  Vicka placed her hand over each priest individually and blessed each one before coming out to the porch.  Fr. Adam told us that her grip was very strong ... much stronger than what he had expected from a thin, frail woman.
 

Priests leading pilgrims in reciting the rosary.
    As we waited for Vicka to appear, a number of priests came out to the porch after receiving their blessing from Vicka and began reciting the rosary in English.  Then an Italian priest joined them and recited a decade of the rosary in Italian.  All four mysteries, the Joyful, Sorrowful, Glorious, and Luminous Mysteries were recited in both English and Italian, alternating between decades for English-speaking and Italian-speaking pilgrims.  Some mysteries were recited more than once.  (I have found that pilgrims here pray together whenever they are waiting.  That sure beats getting upset and complaining!).
   We kept praying the rosary until Vicka finally appeared on the porch with her interpreter.  She had a glowing smile that exuded compassion and peace.  She smiled the entire time she spoke and waved to individuals in the crowd who waved to her.  Through her interpreter she told us that Mary wanted us to pray together as a family and recite the rosary daily.  Mary has also asked us to fast on Wednesdays and Fridays to bring others to her Son.  Other words Vicka used in speaking to us were "peace", "conversion", and "compassion".  Vicka emphasized the importance of Mass.  It is at Mass that the living Jesus is among us.

Pilgrims gaze skyward and take photos.
   As Vicka spoke I noticed some of the Italians in front of me gazing skyward, pointing, and gasping.  As I looked up into the sky in the same direction I understood their amazement.  Clouds had formed a
Cross appeared in the sky.
Vicka and her interpreter Mickey.
Italian pilgrims in front of me.
cross over the area where Vicka was speaking.  Vicka proceeded to talk to us and  told us that satan wanted to  distract us.  She advised us that someone would probably        scream  or cause some kind of        commotion/disturbance, but we      were to ignore all distractions.        Several minutes later, right in          front of me, a young Italian             woman in her twenties fainted.       Her frantic mother called out           loudly and uncontrollably to her       husband Marco for help.  The other Italian pilgrims in front of me "shushed" her in an attempt to follow Vicka's directive to stay focused and silent.  Finally, the interpreter left the porch and came through several rows of people, picked up the young woman and took her inside.  Her parents, the mother still frantic, followed in through a side door. Vicka continued to speak to us for several more minutes before disappearing back into the orphanage.

Krizevac and My Ukrainian Angels 

   We returned to our hotel and later went to Cross Mountain.  Some walked to Krizevac while a few others took a cab.  I arrived at Krizevac before several of the other pilgrims in our group so I decided to begin the Stations of the Cross on my own.  I had led my second graders on the Stations of the Cross for many years so I was comfortable doing them on my own.
Rocky terrain we climbed.
The First Station
   I headed up this steep, rocky incline looking for the First Station where Jesus is condemned to death.  It didn't take too long to find it, but it seemed as if the other stations were at least a mile apart.  I continued on but a few times I mistakenly took a trail that did not lead to the next station so it probably took me longer to get to the top of Krizevac than most people.  Each station was beautifully carved to help pilgrims with their spiritual reflections.  They were numbered with Roman numerals. Some were adorned with pilgrims'
Pilgrims leave requests at stations.
petitions, prayer cards, and rosaries.  The views were sacred and uplifting.
A view near the top of Krizevac.
I found that coming down Krizevac without a walking stick and a purse in one hand and my camera in the other hand was a little more treacherous and trickier than what I had anticipated.  I decided to go down the same side of the mountain that I had climbed up since I would have a better idea of where I was should I not find any of my fellow pilgrims at the bottom of the mountain.  Around the 13th Station, I had trouble navigating the big drops from one giant rock to the next without a walking stick.  Three Ukrainian teenage girls and a Ukrainian nun were about six feet behind me.
My Ukrainian guardian angels ... the nun and the dark-haired woman are twin sisters. The third teen had already gone down to the street level when this photo was taken.
60 ton cross atop Cross Mountain.
   They saw my precarious situation with the rocks and said something to me in Ukrainian but I could only understand one or two words they spoke so I responded in Croatian that I didn't understand what they were saying.  One of the Ukrainian teens who spoke English asked me if I spoke English.  When I responded that I did, the nun began to ask me a whole host of questions as the young girl interpreted both the nun's questions and all of my answers.  They wanted to know where I was from and where was the rest of my group.  I answered that I had come up the mountain alone.  The nun chastised me and said that it was too dangerous to come alone.  She took one arm and had one of the young girls go ahead of us so that the teen could carry my camera, take my hand and help me down this huge drop. Another member in the group offered to carry my purse so my hands could be free. I said a brief prayer to myself, "Jesus, I trust in You," and I allowed them to help me.  The young nun held onto my arm the entire way down.  A couple of times when I tried to secretly pull my arm away, she took a firmer hold, not wanting to lose me.  They helped me down the mountain and it seemed as if I was gliding on air. The walk down from the point when the young nun took my arm until we reached the bottom seemed so effortless.  They truly were my Ukrainian angels!
Flowers peek through the crevices of a rock on Cross Mountain (Krizevac).

No comments:

Post a Comment