Divine Visits. Josie Varga

to me on that day in that room was a divine intervention. I also know that the power of prayer played a huge part in my good fortune. Many family and friends were praying for me, including rosary groups. I was saying daily novenas to the Blessed Mother, Saint Peregrine, and Padre Pio. In fact, the day after I was told that I needed to have a biopsy, I was in my room praying to my Godmother Lucy. A few minutes later I went into my drawer looking for a prayer card she had given me. I found the card along with a note from my godmother. In it I found a small medal depicting the Blessed Mother. As I read the note, I was stunned when I came to the last paragraph. In it, she wrote, “Pin this medal on your bra. It's blessed”

      Rereading the note, I stared in disbelief. “Pin this medal on your bra.” My godmother once again came to me with a message of her presence at the most opportune time. I said a prayer of thanks and then took the medal and pinned it to the left side of my bra. That same night I called my friend Ray Skop, a faith healer in Jersey City, New Jersey, who has been at the helm of several miracles. (We will talk more about Ray a little later in this book).

      So while many factors played a part in my positive outcome and I cannot possibly exempt anything while expressing my thanks, I can say that it all began with the divine visit that I received in that room at the diagnostic radiology center. I can also say it began with my desperate cry for help and hence the appearance and miracle of that incredible orb.

      My life hasn't been the same since. I am a new person. The sky is bluer. The grass is greener. Everything radiates with love and energy. When I called Toni DiBernardo whose divine visit I described in the previous chapter and who assisted me in putting this book together, she excitedly exclaimed, “I know exactly what you mean, Josie. I call these God Shots. Everything looks more beautiful than it did before.” I smiled in agreement feeling and sharing in her excitement. I wasn't alone in my newfound way of looking at the world. While Toni prefers to call it God Shots, I like to think of it more as soul impressions for I no longer see with my eyes; I see with my soul. And while mere words don't begin to describe the magnificence of what I experienced that day, at least I have given you a glimpse.

      ²For information about the Visits from Heaven Facebook Group or to join, please visit: https://www.facebook.com/groups/256369014386004/.

Uva

       Bibiana

      California

      Times were tough. At this time in my life I had five children, all under the age of ten, and I was pregnant with my sixth child. We were living and hiding from my brutal ex-husband in an old house that was scheduled to be demolished, and therefore, thankfully, I paid no rent.

      Various caring family members and friends would stop by every now and then to bring the children and me a bag of potatoes, some vegetables, or eggs since I couldn't collect the court-ordered child support money from my husband and risk uncovering our whereabouts.

      One day after bringing us a bag of groceries, Aunt Henrietta tried to comfort me with the old refrain, “No matter how bad it is someone always has it harder.” Somehow it didn't make me feel better to know that someone was out there suffering more than I, and I said as much to my aunt. But she went on to tell me about a woman she had recently met at the Greyhound bus station while waiting to pick up a friend.

      Aunt Henrietta sat at the coffee shop counter when someone tapped her on the shoulder. “May I kindly have fifty cents to buy coffee and some toast?” she asked in Spanish.

      “I turned to see a short, heavyset, most unattractive woman before me. Her face was scarred badly, and she appeared to have lost most of her teeth,” related Aunt Henrietta.

      The woman, who introduced herself as Uva (which means grape in Spanish), explained that she had come by bus to the United States after some American tourists contracted her in Mexico asking her to be a housekeeper and nanny. They had even provided her with a one-way ticket to their home city. When she arrived and called her would-be employers, however, they told her they had changed their minds and wouldn't need her after all. As a consequence, Uva had been begging for food and sleeping in the ladies room of the bus station for over a month and had no idea what to do, since she didn't speak English and knew no one in that city.

      I was appalled and asked Aunt Henrietta what had finally happened to Uva, and she replied that as far as she knew Uva was still living at the bus station. I felt an immediate need to find this woman and asked my aunt to take me to the station right away to see if she was still there. When we arrived, I saw Uva and immediately ran to her, hugged her, and told her she was coming home with me. Uva gratefully accepted and was both elated and relieved.

      Aunt Henrietta worried that now I had another mouth to feed, but I told her that so far God had provided and would now provide for Uva too. Truthfully, the only thing that I was concerned about at that time was bringing Uva home with me.

      She proved to be a ray of sunshine. Uva was always happy and loved to sing and dance. The children loved her and she them. She was so grateful for those things most of us take for granted or don't even notice in life like clean air after a rainstorm or a bird's early morning song. She treated every chore, even scrubbing the toilets, with a smile. She would often dance with the broom and treat it as if it were the handsomest of partners. My children and I laughed at her silly antics and waited anxiously to see what she would do next.

      One morning she said to me, “I have been gathering bottles all week and have enough of the deposit money for you to take the bus into town and get a job.” I was startled by this declaration and objected, “But Uva I don't have any type of training and why would anybody hire me?” But she quickly replied, “Oh, you'll be hired because you're pretty. Now put on your best suit and let me fix your hair. When you get into town, get off in front of that huge drugstore (Walgreens). Turn around and follow that little side street behind the pharmacy. Soon you will see a ‘Help Wanted’ sign in a little shop, and that is where you will work.”

      Although surprised, I followed Uva's instructions precisely and sure enough found the sign in the window of a flower shop. I told the woman inside that I was there for the position. I was honest about my lack of experience, and she dismissed me right away. But before I left, a cheerful man with bright red hair stepped out of the back room and asked, “What have we here, Dixie?” Dixie told him she had interviewed me for the job but found me lacking and would not hire me.

      “But I'm the manager, Dixie,” he argued, “and I say she's hired.” “But why?” asked Dixie. “Because she's pretty,” replied my new employer.

      My new job enabled us to move closer to town and into a nicer home. For a time all was improved until I came home one day and found Uva crying. “I have been told it's time to leave you,” she cried. I asked, “Who said it's time?” But Uva would just shake her head and not answer the question.

      I had saved a little out of each paycheck for Uva, who had refused payment for her babysitting and help during those months that she was with us. I offered the money to her, but she flatly refused it until I told her it was important to me that she take it.

      The next day on our way to the Greyhound bus station to drop Uva off, she asked Aunt Henrietta to stop the car and drop her off a few blocks before the station. I got out of the car to give her a hug, and then Uva hurried around a building and into a back alley. She had been with me and my family for about six months, and I couldn't bear to let her go so I decided to follow closely behind. But when I turned into the same alley, I saw a quick flash of Uva's skirt and then nothing. I was faced with nothing, but the entirety of an empty alley, which although short, was nevertheless too far for anyone to just vanish from sight. Uva was nowhere to be found. I walked all the way to the bus station, but there was no sign of her. I even waited at the station, but she never showed up.

      Uva would often say in Spanish, “Where I lived was a palace compared to this old house, but I'd rather be here than in my palace