Gerard Majella

    I don't remember where I first learned about St. Gerard. Somewhere along the path of my return to Catholicism, I read about him and was intrigued.

    In 1753, a young woman in Gerard's village accused him of being the father of her unborn child. Gerard offered no defense, and St. Alphonsus understandingly assumed Gerard to be guilty. The young saint was sentenced to confinement at the monastery and was forbidden to receive Holy Communion. Can you imagine? Gerard's only statement on the matter was, "There is a God in Heaven. He will prevail."  A few months later, the young woman confessed that she had fabricated the story. (And St. Alphonsus probably felt this low.)


     The most famous story of Gerard is the "handkerchief story." Once, while visiting a family in the village, St. Gerard dropped his handkerchief. One of the young girls of the household ran after him and tried to return the cloth. "Keep it," St. Gerard told her. "One day it will be of service to you." The young girl had no idea what this meant, but years later, while effectively dying in childbirth, she asked for the hankie. Immediately, she was healed and delivered a healthy baby.

     There is a little church in Italy where candles and letters and telegrams surround an image of St. Gerard. The telegrams and letters vary by language, but they all convey the same happy news:

Baby boy, mother and child fine.

Baby girl, alive and well! Praise God.

Baby Gerard born today. Mother and child well.

     I heard of a parish in NY where you could get a free handkerchief with Gerard's image and his famous words "Here God's will is done as God wills for as long as God wills." I sent off for a handkerchief back in 2006. I received it, along with a card from the parish assuring me of their prayers and requesting to hear about the "good news" when it happened. Overly confident, no?


      I also started a Novena to St. Gerard that we would be able to become parents. I was just three days into my novena when I found out about a crisis pregnancy, the pregnancy that would lead me to our Mary. What began as a true crisis and a source of much grief and sorrow when I first learned of the pregnancy became the great joy of my life. I attribute the conversion of heart of Mary's birthmom directly to St. Gerard and Our Lady of Guadalupe, both of whom I begged like I had never begged for anything before to save the life of this child, whom I already loved. I don't suppose I will ever forget lying in bed sobbing, thinking about this little one twisting and turning and jumping for joy (Yes, if you've ever been privileged to see an ultrasound of an 10 week old unborn child, you are quite aware that they can suck their thumbs, stretch, play with their hands, etc.), oblivious to the imminent danger.  I mean, I prayed constantly, and so did a LOT of other people. I will never forget feeling surrounded by prayers and love and I will never forget cautiously feeling that our prayers had indeed been answered. For the millionth time, thank you, Lord.


     Naturally, I became intensely attached to "the little saint of happy delivery." It was as though for the first time ever, I felt that the Communion of Saints was not some faraway, unreachable group of perfect people. I felt like I had a friend there.

     In August of 2009, I went to the parish picnic. My mom and I were sitting at a table when a friend from church approached and said, "Can I ask a personal question?" I said sure and she said, "Is there something about you and Joe and a new baby?"

     I was kind of wistful, because days before, we'd been at Millennium Park and Mary was playing with another little girl when Joe remarked that she "needed a sister." I totally agreed, but we just couldn't afford another adoption and after so long, it looked like pregnancy would never happen either.

     Of course, I just laughed and said, "Nope! Can't afford it and I'm certainly not pregnant." I raised my glass of beer as proof. She was insistent. "Are you sure? No adoption in the works? No pregnancy?" I laughed again and reiterated that yeah, no.

     She then said, "I was praying for you and your husband the other night and I saw you with a new baby." I was touched that she had been praying for us.  She insisted. "Seriously, you were holding a new baby." Again, I said no and as she walked away, Mom and I looked at each other and kind of giggled.  "Well. She was interesting," was Mom's comment.

     I knew what my mother was implying, but she didn't know the woman like I did. (And frankly, I didn't know her terribly well.)  I just mumbled something like, "She's special, Mom. She has the faith of a little child. You kind of have to know her."

     A week and a half later, I took a test and lo and behold, it was positive. I'm convinced God loves surprising us.

     Again I found comfort in my old friend. Again I started his novena. I was terrified of miscarriage due to my age and due to the fact that it was such an unexpected thing. (And due to the fact that I drank about 2 bottles of champagne at the Millennium Park thing. It was Beethoven 9, the hap-hap-happiest symphony in the history of man. Sue me.)

     I ended up having the easiest, most delightful pregnancy ever.  Oh, don't hate me. The delivery was hell. (And I would do it again a thousand times, for the record.)

     So to say I like spreading the word about St. Gerard would be an understatement.

     Recently, a friend of mine who suffers from PCOS and a host of other ailments had surgery in hopes of healing to the point of becoming fertile. She was only a couple of weeks post-surgery, and it's not unheard of that pregnancy won't occur for a year or more following the procedure. It's major surgery and the human body needs months to heal from such a thing.

     I suggested we start a novena to St. Gerard while she was healing. She agreed, and a couple of our friends joined us. A few days after the novena ended, she took a pregnancy test. Of course, it was positive. She took another and another. Positive. Positive!

     We were giddy. Unlikely, improbable, inconceivable! (Pun intended. And you know you read that in Vizzini's voice.)

     Because she'd had problems, she immediately had to go have bloodwork done. She was nervous, but I told her not to worry, because her baby was one of "Gerard's babies", as they're known. When her hcg level was tested, it was at the abysmal level of just 7.  Lower than five is not even considered pregnant. This was scary, because OTC pregnancy tests detect hcg levels of 25 as a rule. You can't get a more sensitive one than that at a place like Walgreens. She had obviously had a level of at least 25 just days before. Now, the level was 7. And the only time an hcg level drops is when you're miscarrying. We prayed and prayed, and I tried to reassure her even as I was terrified for her.

     The next day, she had blood drawn again. If the number wasn't at least doubling every day, it was an indication of miscarriage. On the morning the new numbers were to come back, we were chatting. I went to the Saint Name Generator on a whim and prayed for a saint to protect her baby. When St. Anthony of Padua came up, I smiled, because she had told me before that she was VERY devoted to him. I emailed her what had happened.  She was delighted, if perhaps leaning a bit towards a coincidence.  Still, I wondered where Gerard was, and I figured two saints are better than one, and I was so nervous....so I clicked to get ANOTHER saint.

     When the name Gerard Majella appeared on my computer screen, I almost fainted.

     I immediately emailed her, and with tears in my eyes, wrote her what had just happened.

     And then she blew my mind.

     She was freaking out like I was. She was bawling. "What you don't know," she wrote me, "is that last night, my husband and I were discussing naming the baby Anthony Gerard if it's a boy."

     It was at this point I knew that her baby was just fine. And when the number came back, it hadn't just doubled. It had TRIPLED. We spent the next few hours in complete awe.

     A friend of hers, a friend I do not know, was having similar problems and had a similar surgery. My friend suggested we do a novena to Gerard for her friend. Naturally, her friend became pregnant a few days after we finished the novena.

     I still have friends suffering from infertility. I still have loved ones who die of cancer. Being human, I still know pain and sorrow. Novenas are not magic. Prayer is not superstition. As a matter of fact, during that novena, we were also praying for another couple who still wait for their child. But there are miracles all around us, and you can see them if you look with the eyes of faith.  And if you ask the Communion of Saints to intercede at the throne of God for you, they will. Children are not granted to the worthy. In a million years, I am not worthy of the motherhood of the two little souls I am raising. That's not some false humility. That's not a pious line. That's the 100% honest truth. I know that. I will never understand why I was given these children. I am eternally grateful, but I know not why.

     I do know that if it will not serve to help you or others achieve heaven, the answer to a prayer will be no or, at least, "Not yet."  We can only see a sliver of the picture. It's like looking through a keyhole. Our perception is flawed. We don't know why some things we ask for which seem so good and right are denied us in this life. We do know that everything bad, all the dead babies and wars and infertility and abuse and poverty and hopelessness - all that is caused by the fall of man. And we trust that sometimes we just don't know what's right for us, what our plan is.

     And that is why even prayers for motherhood - such a worthy and noble request - should always end with "Here God's will is done, as God wills, for as long as God wills."

      I am so grateful I'm Catholic, not just for Holy Communion, Confession, and the biggies like that, but also for the Catholic intimacy with the Communion of Saints. 

     Friends in high places, that's what that is.