We drove down the beautiful Adriatic coastline alongside rolling mountains adorned with grapevines and olive trees. The Shrine of St. Pio sat on top of the highest mountain. The narrow road up the mountain was probably better suited for cows or donkeys, but St. Pio is near and dear to my heart, and I would have gladly walked up the mountain to see where he had lived.Excitedly, we walked into St. Pio's friary. His friary was completely preserved. His bed, chair, desk, the tiles he walked on were all completely protected with glass. We saw the many altar cloths used while he said mass. Chills ran through me as I saw the how the blood from the stigmata on his hands was present on all the cloths. We also saw the many pairs of brown gloves he used, his different vestments-everything tinged with blood. There was an entire wall of thousands of letters, rosaries, and holy cards that people had sent imploring his prayers and blessings. We also saw the cell where he lived and died and the window he used to lean out in order to bless the crowds.
Slowly, we descended the stairs leading to St. Pio's tomb. Flowers were everywhere. As I knelt beside him to pray, I could almost feel his presence in the room. I prayed for my family members in need of healing and I asked St. Pio for guidance. I asked him what I could do to be a better follower of Jesus. My prayer was answered almost immediately. In my mind I heard four words- "Prayer, sacrifice, suffering and confession." As I repeated these words over and over so I would not forget his precious advice, I received one more piece of advice, "Learn from the wounds." As I continued to pray, I could feel my tears running down my face.
Before leaving St. Pio's Shrine, I stopped to write a personal letter to St. Pio again asking for his intercession with family members.
-Susan
