I first stumbled across Diego's story nearly three years ago, when EWTN happened to be airing a special about places consecrated to St. Michael. Incidentally, that was the only thing that could've gotten me to watch EWTN. Anyway, the show was hosted by Bob and Penny Lord, and they went to San Miguel del Milagro. Penny, who said she was troubled by some terrible arthritic ailment, drank the water and declared she immediately felt better. I'm all for the power of positive healing, but I was still skeptical. I know that people tend to see what they want to see.
So I researched the place on my own. Tragically, not much stuff can be found in English, and my knowledge of Spanish is limited. Still, I read a statistic that claimed that the well healed over 90% of the people who went there looking for treatment.
Having terrible asthma that feels like it's slowly killing me, as well as excema that is excruciating, I started to think that I should go there.
My idea was problematic, however. God and I aren't always on speaking terms. How could I go to a place like that and honestly expect to be healed? Still, I couldn't put the thought aside. I became more and more certain I should go. It became an obsession with me. All I could think about was this little village in Mexico that I'd never heard of before.
I started to make arrangements to go.
But just when I thought I was free and clear, those drug wars started on the border. American tourists were being kidnapped and murdered by cartels to either smuggle drugs back to the States, or to send a brutal message to the police agencies cracking down on them. My family, terrified of the idea of me going to Mexico, kept pressuring me not to go.
When they didn't try to scare me, they were trying to insist it would never work. Keep in mind how my mother used to be a zealot. Yet, she and my father both told me not to get my hopes up. According to them, they'd really hate it if I went down there, nothing happened, and then my relationship with God would be even worse than it was before.
But the worst thing was when my mother thought she'd turn my pilgrimage into a Club Med retreat. She thought it'd be cool to spend a day in San Miguel, then jet to some Mexican beach for a week to kick back and relax. When she got it in her head that she was going to come along and transform my spiritual journey with her own agenda, I felt extremely uncomfortable. In my mind, it was going to be hard enough to convince God why I should be healed too. But if he thought I was treating this whole thing like he was a magic genie and I was demanding my three wishes, my request for healing would most definitely be denied.
Frustrated with them all, I called the whole thing off.
But though I tried to put away all notions of going to San Miguel del Milagro, I couldn't stop thinking about it. I imagined what the town would be like, and wondered if St. Michael would meet me there. When I first learned of it, I don't think I was spiritually ready to go because I was skeptical and uncertain. But as time went on, my confidence grew. It got to the point that I stopped considering the possibility of being overlooked. As time went on, I became certain I would be healed.
In retrospect, I look at those obstacles in my path, and realize as annoying as they were, they were necessary. I needed the extra time to grow in faith. Now, I think I'm as ready as I can be to make this pilgrimage.
Traditionally, pilgrims walked to their destination, but I'm not walking to Mexico. I think God will give me a pass on that since it is still very dangerous on the border. However, I believe that making a pilgrimage involves a measure of sacrifice, and it wouldn't mean anything if there weren't any danger involved. There's a place in Florida where I could go to seek healing, but where's the sacrifice? Where's the risk? That's why it has to be Mexico.
So, if all goes well, I'll be in Mexico as early as October.
And when I come back, by the grace of God my skin and lungs will be healthy.
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