A Pretty Lady

Kayla, Dani and I were chatting a bit in the kitchen while cleaning up after dinner last night. We were mostly talking about names for babies/children [no - no reason :o) - just girls being girls discussing girly things] - so which ones we liked/disliked. "Do you like the name Gerard?" one of them asked. Me, with a scrunched up face while bobbing my head from side to side, as if I couldn't make up my mind - "Well, I don't like the name so much, but I LOVE St. Gerard? [looking to Kayla] You know, he's an amazing saint. They say that he performed more miracles than all the other saints together!" Kayla, in amazement, "Really!!?". I proceeded to tell her one of the miracles. "Hey, maybe you should post something on your blog about him?"

So per Kayla's request, here is the first part in a little mini-series that I'm going to do on Saint Gerard. There's so much and so many wonderful miracles attributed to him that I couldn't put it all in one post - for your sake! Plus, now I already have something for tomorrow...SWEET!!

So without further ado - Part I of Saint Gerard Majella

He was born in the South of Italy in a small town called Muro on the sixth of April. It was in the year 1726. His father, Domenico, was a tailor. His mother, Benedetta, had already borne three daughters. Gerard was the youngest – the only son. They were an ordinary hard-working Italian family. Pious too. Donna Benedetta often brought her three youngest to Mass with her at the shrine of Our Lady of Graces at nearby Capotignano. And, like thousands of other small boys, then and now, Gerard was all eyes for the strange new things he saw. Not quite four, he was too young to know what was going on. But he did know this: he liked the “pretty lady with the baby.”
“Mama, Mama, see what I got from the little boy.” In his hand he clutched a small roll of bread. Nobody paid him a bit of attention as he chattered about a pretty lady and her baby who had given him the bread. Small boys love to make up stories! But the next day he brought back another white roll, and again the next day, and the next. His mother decided to investigate. Next morning she followed her son. Off he ran the two miles to Capotignano, making straight for the chapel. Benedetta followed. It was then she saw who his playmate was – the Christ-Child himself. The statue of Our Lady of Graces had come to life. The infant climbed down from his Mother’s arms to romp with Gerard. A bewildered Benedetta ran home to Muro. At mealtime, little Gerard came back with another roll of bread.
In after life this childhood attraction for the “pretty lady with the baby” ran over into a love for all children and their mothers. This can be seen in the most cursory glance at his life. There are so many wonders wrought for little children . . . and for mothers. The “Mother’s Saint” has earned even greater claim to the title in the nineteen decades since his death.
[www.saintgerard.com - his story]