A Divine Hug 

That Sunday was supposed to be an ordinary day, but it ended up becoming one of the most transformative experiences of my life. 

The only thing different that morning was that my son, who is away at college, was coming to meet us at morning Mass. He had something important to talk about, and we were eager to see him. We arrived a few minutes late, and the church was packed with people. Seeing no seats available, we decided to stay in the back.

Then, to our surprise, an usher approached us and kindly offered us seats. I couldn’t imagine where he would find room, but to our amazement, he led us all the way to the very first pew —right in front of the altar. It was the perfect spot, comfortable and serene. 

As soon as I sat down, though, I felt the familiar weight of chronic pain begin to spread across my shoulders and back. Pain has been part of my daily reality for a few years now, but that day, I wished so desperately for a break. I longed to focus fully on the Mass and, afterward, enjoy a meaningful conversation with my son; so, as I often do, I closed my eyes and turned to Mary in prayer. I poured out my heart, asking her for some relief — just a few hours without pain. At the same time, I felt overwhelmed by grief from the loss of a close friend. My soul felt heavy with sorrow, and in my vulnerability, I begged Mary for her intercession. 

It was then that the congregation knelt. The pain surged as I lowered myself onto my knees, and I fought to stay present, hands clasped together, focusing my prayers on Mary. In that moment of intense prayer, something extraordinary happened. 

I felt it — a soft, warm pressure on my right shoulder, exactly where the pain had been unbearable just moments before. It felt like a tender hug from someone who loved me deeply. The warmth spread through my body like a beam of pure love, melting away the pain. Tears filled my eyes, and I cried — tears, not of sadness, but of joy and contentment. I felt bathed in love, wrapped in peace, and I wished that moment would never end. 

Opening my tear-filled eyes, I glanced toward my right shoulder to see where the warmth was coming from. To my amazement, a tiny angelic face was resting on my arm — a one-year-old girl with the most beautiful smile. Her innocent gaze locked with mine, and she looked at me as if she knew me. 

The woman sitting next to me, the child’s mother, gently whispered, “I’m sorry.” She tried to pull her daughter away, but the little one wouldn’t let go. Each time she was pulled back, the child snuggled right into my arm again. I couldn’t help but smile through my tears at this unexpected, loving encounter. 

The little girl then pointed to the chain with a cross I was wearing around my neck and, with the clarity only a child can have, said, “The Cross.” Her words cut straight to my heart. I smiled back at her, and she smiled in return. In that fleeting exchange, I felt a connection beyond words, as if God was reminding me of His presence through the innocent affection of this child. 

When the Mass ended, the girl’s mother approached me again, apologizing profusely, but all I could say, through my tears, was, “Thank you, thank you.” 

That day unfolded beautifully. We went to a nearby restaurant and had a long, meaningful conversation over lunch. For hours we sat, talked, and enjoyed each other’s company — and to my astonishment, I was completely pain-free. I could hardly believe it. Sitting for extended periods without discomfort was a rare gift for me, and I cherished every moment. 

Though I can’t say my chronic pain is entirely gone, that day marked a shift. I’ve begun to feel better, to experience longer periods without pain, and I’ve even found myself more active, exercising, working, and savoring the normalcy of life in ways I thought were behind me. 

I believe with all my heart that Mary answered my prayers that day through the gentle touch of a child. It was as if God used that little girl to deliver a message of love and healing, reminding me that I am not alone. I carry this experience with deep gratitude, knowing that I have been blessed in a way that words cannot fully capture. 

To anyone struggling with pain or sorrow, I encourage you to turn to Mary. She hears our cries, knows our burdens, and brings them lovingly to her Son. Even when we feel most lost, she finds a way to remind us that we are deeply loved. And sometimes, she sends an angel — disguised as a child with a hug — to show us that love is always within reach.