Walking for Peace Photo-story 15 (Angels in Croatia)

It started as a simple rash under my arms, but it grew into protrusions the size of golf balls. I battled two nights of fever and chills, popping ibuprofen like candy. The receptionist at the hostel where I was staying recognized me from the newspaper article and, more importantly, spoke English. She arranged for me to see a physician, who also miraculously spoke English. She explained that my lymph nodes were inflamed, and that it was a serious infection that most likely needed surgery to drain. She prescribed antibiotics, telling me she didn’t think they would work. 

In my despair, I thought of returning to Canada for the surgery. Until Fra Ante called to check in on me. Simply hearing his voice made me weep and, through my tears, I tried to explain what was happening. “Not to worry,” he assured me. “I will take care of it.” 

Within an hour, I received a phone call from a woman who spoke English informing me that her doctor son would see me the next day; and that a priest, Fra Drago Ljevar, living near my hostel, would pick me up to take me to the hospital. I couldn’t stop sobbing for the gratitude that I felt at that moment. 

Fra Drago not only took me to see the doctor, and also a surgeon, but opened his home to me as if I were a member of his family. One of the nuns (pictured in the middle), Sister Dolores, kept repeating “moja draga Monika”, words that I finally understood to mean “my dear Mony”. She made me cookies and reminded me to take my medicine. Sister Eloisia (on the left) helped me with whatever else I needed. I felt as if I had come home.

In the end, the infection cleared up with antibiotics (and a lot of meditation!). 

This experience would stand out as proof that, in my darkest hour, I was never alone, and that angels appear in many forms. Thank you, my beautiful Croatian angels.