The Blessed Mother looms large in my life for a few reasons. When on his deathbed, my father saluted, and my mom is fairly certain that he was seeing the Blessed Mother as he died. I know he prayed to her regularly through his last illness.
Father M is also a huge fan of hers and has more than once advised me to pray to her.
So who do I call when my gas tank light glows orange on my dashboard?
We had just spent a lovely day with an old friend of mine and her girls. The hour had gotten late, and I told the boys we were heading straight home. After a day of sledding and playing hard, they were fine with this pronouncement.
It looked like we had enough gas to get where we were going. Until the light went on. And I realized I had not seen a gas station, nor would we see one for several miles.
Ten miles from the time the light goes on. I shut off the music and start praying. Loudly.
Nic asks me what I'm doing. I tell him to look for a gas station. And I keep praying.
I follow the route as it turns left, and I curse, wondering whether we had enough gas to get us to the last station I remember seeing, at least another 5 miles up the road--and we had gone at least 4 when the light had gone on.
I pray louder. G tells me to stop. I tell him that I need to keep going.
I think he joins in at some point.
I shout happily when I see the station on the left. I sigh with relief. And I thank the Blessed Mother for watching over me.
"Who is she?" asked Nic.
We're still having trouble with basics in PREP, but I tell him, "She's the one you call when the end closes in. She's the one who will answer."
She's the reason I have no fear.