In 1985 I was vacationing with a good friend, my mother and my aunt in Washington DC. We were touring the Washington Monument when I noticed a sign advertising a Rosary happening there that very evening. I had never experienced being at a rosary, and from the moment I saw the sign I just knew this would be a good time to witness it.

          My family upbringing had been Lutheran (ELC), and even though in my youth my best friend had been a Catholic, you would have hardly thought that from the trouble he got into. He also had no kind words to say about his school and the way the nuns disciplined the students. His family puzzled me with all the token religious statuary and such around the house. In my experience, when you prayed, you always prayed to God or Jesus, so what was the reason for all this intermediary or intercession-ary stuff still is a bit puzzling. There seemed to be much more fear in their lives over God’s displeasure and wrath, which I could not understand.  I was and am happy that God is forgiving and glad I am in league with him, from the way I looked at it in my youth and now. It has always been one of the constants in my life.

          Now that I think of it, there is a short story I must relate about how a devout co-worker would always pray to Jesus and God the Father through the Virgin Mary. Strange as it may seem, she remained convinced that since Mary had not refused the Father and bore Jesus, “How could God say no to her?” I suppose the thought never crossed her mind that God could see past that sort of manipulation, but that’s another story…I find it hard to think why someone would attempt to do something like that with God. Go figure…

          I showed up on the hillock that housed that obelisk structure, and soon I had a free set of Rosary beads in my hand and was going through the in my mind overly repetitious chants associated with the rite. As dusk turned into darkness, the searchlights on the Monument also were on us and made us appear to be on a stage of sorts.  Strangely enough, some prankster called the general number for the Monument. The telephone, just out of reach beyond the locked metal gate, rang and rang. Once it stopped for about a minute, and then it started up again! The majority of the time we were there, that phone was ringing off the hook just inside the steel entrance gate. Perhaps this made the latter part of the service nearly unbearable for me, but I was a bit relieved when the service ended and prepared to go back to the hotel.

          By chance I happened to look up and it was like being brought to different place and time, although I knew I was still there amidst the crowd. What to my wondering eyes should appear in the searchlights and their shadows on the Washington Monument itself was the face of the Virgin Mary, three dimensional, looking specifically at me. Her appearance was amazingly close to the look of the Michelangelo Pieta face. I knew it well since I bought a reproduction of it made from a casting when some insane man attacked it with a hammer. It has always been one of my favorite possessions, and for years I let my mother place it in her bedroom above her bed. It has always given me a sense of comfort and serenity.

          I knew as I looked up that she was letting me know she was real and that it was a signal for me alone. Up until that time I had issues with the Catholic Church, the pope; the way I viewed the Catholic Church, there seemed to be a host of obstacles in front of a straight path to God. I knew now that there were reasons for it, even if I was not affected by them. This experience validated the Catholic Church’s use of the Saints and especially Mary. How could anyone who had experienced the divine Mary have any objection to her stature and grace, power and love!

          I had no wish to draw attention to myself or the Washington monument. She radiated such love that all I felt like doing was to gaze up at her smiling and sad face and feel what motherly love she had for all humanity. I know that I was staring in awe for what seemed a long time.

           When they hear me tell the story, many people seem so frustrated that they have not seen her. All I can say is it is more blessed to not see and still believe. I guess I just make a good witness, as I have no problems in expressing my faith. I was not looking for her. My thoughts were pretty much as I have expressed them. Why she chose me is in a sense a mystery, and in another sense, I know it quite clearly. I believe that God reveals him and herself to those who are authentic in whom they are. I feel God chooses those who live each day in purity. What do I mean by that? No actions that are other than what one expresses, no hidden motives. No harm intended to others. Especially no manipulations or expectations of “God, MY WAY, not Your way”. I find it hard to believe that people can state their belief and not accept his and her will. What is up with that? Wouldn’t God know best? On the other hand, it doesn’t mean I have to like it. What it means is that I can recognize his call, when I saw the notice, and even though no one wanted to come along with me, that I went.

          One thing I really think is worth saying here is that God is not off somewhere tending to more important things. God is everywhere, at every moment. God knows exactly why some things are the way they are, even when we feel that he and she must have run off somewhere and abandoned us. Rest assured that is not the case. God might be just testing your faith.

           Well, are you going ask for help or not?  Are you willing to do what God asks? Sometimes I know through God I need to say something to someone.  I wince inside to myself, thinking I am really being tested. Many times I find much to my surprise the encounter is a miracle in the person I am saying it to receiving the Holy Spirit. It is as if the word must be spoken in order for the full effect to take place. It is as if for most people reality is only the spoken or actual physical realm. The thought process is certainly downgraded as proof of God in their eyes or does not seem to have the impact. I suppose some would say if God came to them in word alone, that they were imagining it. God is inherent in the air you breathe, in all you do and say, if you are in league with God.

          But, interestingly, in my experience here, Mary was not crying, just looking incredibly serene, loving and sad. I know the sadness is because Mary seriously wants us all walk the right path. She is of course that quintessential mother who forgives and helps the straying souls who ask for help. For me, I was straying in having doubt of the validity of the Catholic Church. It and of course no organized religion has a patent on God. Even through its imperfections, God has no problem with those who knock on his door. Mary is always there to help us find the right path and in her traditional role as well. Especially when we ask, she is always there with our children, even when they don’t make the right choices…

and that's an important thing to remember. The Angels or the Virgin Mary can't make anyone do the right thing, because it is our lesson. I also look at her virgin status to apply more to her 'pure' outlook than anything else.