I wasn’t sure of the date today, so I checked, and saw that it was March 25.
And it tugged on my heart.
I ran the date through my head to see if it was a birthday or a deadline I had forgotten, but there didn’t seem to be anything.
I continued my work. And the date continued to chime quietly and gently, like the tiniest of bells. Little baby-tugs on my heart. About two hours later, it had gone on long enough that I could no longer ignore it, so I looked up the date to see if there was a church feast of some significance.
March 25 2017 was the Feast of the Annunciation. It hit me like a slap of water.
In July last year, we were to travel back to my husband’s hometown, to visit a grave. We always take flowers when we go, but that day, it was special, and I wanted roses, and the best of them too. In my heart, I envisioned pink roses; I yearned for the beautiful Guadalupe Roses. They do not grow here, but I prayed we’d find something close enough.
However, during my Morning Holy Hour that blue~gold July day, I received three tugs in a single, different direction.
The first came through a painting I had never before seen – of a young girl pinning a rose to a statue of Mother Mary.
And the second tug was by St Padre Pio. I cannot remember how it came about, but it was willed by God that morning, that I should find a link to a website that was all about St. Pio and the Rosary.
Finally, as we were leaving the house to begin our long journey, I casually looked around the tangle that is our garden, and amongst the busyness there, a lone flower caught my hurrying gaze.
A tiny, tiny pink tea~rose.
As we travelled, my thoughts inevitably went back to my hope that we’d find roses.
In a quiet light burst, I recalled the events of the morning – the picture, the words and the baby bloom of rose. And immediately, I knew.
I had wanted roses for this beloved one gone Home.
But instead, Beloved wanted Roses for our Mother. The most beautiful of Guadalupe roses – the Rosary.
I yielded to the gentle but insistent request.
It being a Monday, I began to recite the Joyful Mysteries. The 1st Mystery, the Annunciation, went fine, and I proceeded to the 2nd. But from a sharp and sure determination to recite the Rosary, I suddenly began to struggle with the 2nd decade of the Rosary. The words kept evaporating, I kept forgetting them.
Over and over and over, I went back to the 2nd, then to the 3rd decades of the Rosary.
Over and over, each time, the Rosary header for each decade dissipated. I would begin to recite the Mystery for the decade, and I would be transported right back to the first mystery.
Soon, I began to feel drowsy. It was warm day, and one of beauty. Blue mists still hid and peeked out from amongst branches and grass dancing in the merry~yellow of the morning sunshine. The perky joy of the day drizzled its blessings into my spirit.
Lulled into a deep peace, as I savoured the gold of that beautiful day, my thoughts drowsily went back to my struggle with the Rosary. My recitation kept going back to the Annunciation.
Why did I keep returning to that? Was something holding me back? What was it about the Annunciation?
And at that moment, I heard a clear, female voice write these words on my heart ~
The event of the Warning will begin with the Annunciation
That was last year. I had forgotten all that. But the memory returned today, in the earliest hours of the 25th, the Feast of the Annunciation, 2017. Despite the initial shock of remembering, there is no fear, no worry whatever may come. That day last year, I was not told the year to look out for.
But I now know it is this year, 2017. Because the Rose~bell chimed just after midnight of the old day.
To remind me of the great day when the Archangel Gabriel announced the coming of a Miracle to change the tide of the times.