CHAPTER 1
LIFE IN GETTYSBURG, PENNSYLVANIA
After graduating from the seminary, I was assigned to a parish inGettysburg, Pennsylvania. There, I met two women who made alarge impact on my life. They were both married, beautiful (I meanmovie-star beautiful), and in their early twenties. When the firstcame to visit me, I took one look at her and knew I would have a toughtime resisting the temptations of women. I subtly showed her to thedoor after a short ten-minute visit. The other woman was especiallyattractive, with her flowing sandy hair and bubbly personality. Herhusband was an exceptional man whom I could not see offending inthe least, so I never saw her again. It was the calling that the GoodLord gave me that helped most especially.
Another time, a pretty college girl slept in my car, which I keptunlocked. She was hoping to have hanky-panky when I was calledto the hospital in the middle of the night. The Good Lord protectedme; I was never called that night. As ugly as I am, I think she wasdisappointed.
Another significant person in my Gettysburg life was John.His reputation was that of a miserly hermit who never took a bath,and his house was dark and dirty like the inside of an unkempt cargarage—downright filthy. John was thin and wore clothes that lookedlike clothes a homeless person would wear. The only time he washedhimself was when he was bathed during his unfortunate trips to thehospital.
I began to notice that this miserly hermit had a lonely life. I wouldsee him walking back from the supermarket, dragging his purchaseshome, barely making it. John had terrible body odor, but I didn'tnotice that until I offered to drive him to and from the supermarket.On several occasions, I said to myself, What have I gotten myself into?By the time I got him into my car and transported him to and fromthe supermarket, his reeking body and clothes left a noticeable odorin my brand-new car.
Helping John made me feel great—until he started coming tothe rectory every Friday for a ride to the supermarket. I did not havethe smiling face of a saint when the head priest would announce tome that John was at the back door. To be perfectly honest, when wearrived at the store, observing his childlike transformation was a joyto behold. John was like an excited child in the supermarket, tryingto extend the time as much as possible—like a kid in a candy store. Byand by, I ratcheted our time together up to taking him for ice creamalso, which was heaven for him and made me feel good inside.
I didn't think about how much what I was doing affected Johnuntil people began to notice that he seemed much happier. Never didI expect that this was what heaven, church, love, and peace were allabout. The nuns of the parish took part by bringing him homemadesoup. John enjoyed the attention, and we both became celebrities intown. One college professor was so inspired that he invited John andme to his home for a special meal. At the time, I felt so proud to beassociated with John that you could see the heart thumping out ofmy chest. It has always been a source of joy and great internal peaceto look back and remember the beautiful smile on John's face.
You must be thinking, What does this have to do with heaven?Quite a bit. I think God was checking in on me, and heaven knew Ineeded to be checked in on.
Before we continue, I must tell you about one of the unbelievableChristmas stories I witnessed during my stay at Gettysburg.
I had always wanted to experience a white Christmas, and lo andbehold, one came to Gettysburg the year after I began helping John—tenfluffy inches of white snow. All of the Christmas lights reflectedoff the snow in an amazing fashion, which made for an outstandingsight. Everyone was in the Christmas spirit. Also, a constructioncompany owner came on Christmas with his trucks and earthmovingvehicles to make traveling around the church convenient foreveryone. He was a gem of a person. More important for me, it was areward from the Good Lord for helping the hermit and for treatinghim as an equal.
As a footnote, four years in a row, a church burned and lightningstruck the bell tower while I heard confessions. Three years in a row,someone did an evil act by destroying three churches in the area.
These events brought a lurking question: Was the Good Lordmaking a statement?
Never did I expect what would come next. The Good Lord wasabout to give me a huge gift that would stay with me forever.
CHAPTER 2
VISITING MY PARENTS
Many people think money is the best present or that a beautiful,makes-you-melt wife is a hard-to-beat present. That might be so,but for me, the best present was what happened in a bedroom of myparents' house.
One summer morning, suddenly, a physical voice said to me, "Iwill never leave you nor forsake you." It threw me clear off the bed.The voice filled my whole body. It was a male voice—booming but nottoo loud, gentle, and soothing. It made my day and my life, becauseI had tribulations galore all the time.
This is the first time I have ever revealed this event. I didn't eventell my father, because I knew what he would say: "You are not worthyfor God to talk to you." To his remark, I knew I would back off like adog with its tail between its legs. Although I live alone, to this day, Iknow I am never alone.
Whenever I visited my parents, it was like going back in time tomy childhood—only better. My mother made me meals as if we werecelebrating Christmas. I would sit at the kitchen table with my father,and he would tell me stories about the little town in Southern Italywhere he was born. We would sit at the table for hours, and he nevergot tired of telling me the stories. My mother enjoyed the cooking andenjoyed listening in on the stories. To be honest, they were enjoyingthe fruit of their labors in me, and the fact that I came home and gavethem respect and honor was heaven to them.
Consequently, my second childhood was better than the first,because I was giving back to them, the people in my life who lovedme the most, and it was satisfying for all of us.
This was at least a tiny glimpse into the life of Heaven above.
One day, I disrespected my mother. The Good Lord was so lividthat He caused a noticeable dent in my beautiful new car. It was notworth fixing, but when the sun brightened on it a certain way, itwould remind me that the Good Lord did not tolerate such behavior.Some might argue that God is love and doesn't do such things. All Ihave to do is point you to the Bible, which proves God's discipline isoften and obvious.
The block my parents lived on was noisy, but I had many friendsto play with as a child. At times, my friends and I gave our parentsheadaches and fought as incidents arose. Most of us were lean andstringy, but we were tough mentally and physically. The kids fromthe wealthier parts of town were afraid to come to our part of town,for fear of being beat up. Children who were overweight were calledFatso, and the kids who wore glasses were called Four Eyes. Bothwere great insults. On a date, one of the guys saw me and then latertold me that my date was too good for me. This did not do much formy confidence.
What does this have to do with heaven? I want you to know andtrust me, because there are happenings I will share later that mightbe difficult to accept.
It took the Good Lord many years to teach me about heaven. Hehad to humble me and bring me to tears at times. He had to separateme and take me aside, where He could teach me. I was rebuffed bymany, and churches and friends turned their backs on me. Whenmy dad invited me to go to Italy for a month with him and mymother, I hesitated, for I thought it would be boring. However, Iwent, not knowing what I was in for—the experience of a lifetimeand a highlight of my life. And the Good Lord's humbling me helpedprovide a wonderful experience.
We went to a tiny town in Southern Italy where my dad had beenborn—Isca—located on the Ionian Sea and eighteen miles acrossfrom Greece.
After landing in Rome, we took a ten-hour train ride to reach atiny village. It was located high on a mountain, at least a mile abovethe sea, which you could see plainly from the town. At night, I sawmore stars than I'd seen in my life. From the moment we arrived, itwas one continuous enjoyment after another. It was paradise. Italyhad everything palate-wise.
There was a pretty girl who took a shining to me, and I usedto have to pass her house every day. The farms there were veritablegardens of Eden and had the best wine I had ever tasted. The lemonson the lemon trees were so yellow that they looked fake, but theywere real. The olive trees were eye-catching. It was sunny thereevery day. The people of the village seemed content. They enjoyedsitting around the supper table and sharing conversation for hours.Everyone was healthy—no one was sick or crippled, and no onewore eyeglasses or hearing aids. The doctor came once a month foranyone who needed him. Like I said, it was indeed paradise. NowI see my time there as God preparing me for the real heaven—aparadise lasting forever.
The scariest part for me was when I was asked to give a sermonin Italian in a packed church. My parents were in the front row.Somehow I did it, and to this day, I look back with great satisfaction.The best part was the celebration of the patron saint of the town, SaintMarshall, a boy soldier who was martyred for his Christianity. Thecelebration was a nine-day feast, and the town was totally focusedon this celebration. Each morning would begin with a bagpipe bandparading through the town with special food and sweets every dayof the celebration. The culmination was a special procession withthe saint's relic through the town. I was given the high honor ofpersonally carrying the saint's relic.
My parents were proud, especially my father, who had his chestprotruding so far out because of me that his suit jacket seemed tight.That wasn't the end of it either. Later, the priest, a kind man, invitedme back to his house for food that was the best I had ever eaten, andthe young girls who waited on us were prettier than movie stars.Again God was giving me a preview of life in the real Heaven.
Are you taking notice of how I am beginning to tell you aboutheaven and the people there?
As you can imagine, I was totally wrong about visiting Italy for amonth. I don't know if the people hated us or were glad to see us go,but for me, the trip went all too quickly. My dad hired a bus so thatmany of the relatives could see us off at the train station, which wastwo miles down the mountain. My month in Italy was a time alwaysto be cherished. Now, back to the USA.
Before I say adieu to my hometown, I want to touch on some ofthe memories I will always take with me—the sports feats. WhenI played center field in a teenage baseball league, a batter hit a ballfar over my head, but I turned my back, ran for it, and, at the lastmoment, stuck up my paltry glove. The ball miraculously landed inthe webbing of my glove. Another time, there was a big basketballgame in the seminary, and I made the winning shot from midcourt.At the last second, the ball swished at the buzzer. Last but not least,in my ten years of pocket billiards tournaments, I went undefeated.You might have memories that mean more, but for me, however,these moments were the Good Lord telling me, "You haven't seenanything yet."
One of the converts I made to Catholicism during my early daysas a priest was a Lutheran minister's daughter. For whatever reason,she called the priest's house, the rectory, one Sunday morning. Alwaysenjoying playing harmless practical jokes, I answered the phone bysaying, "Hello, this is the morgue." On the other end, she couldn'tstop laughing. Liking the lighthearted and cheerful attitude, shejoined the church. I suspect her father greatly disagreed but still lovedhis daughter.
After settling in on this assignment in Gettysburg, I receiveda letter that informed me I was being transferred. Though it wasshocking, I had one week to uproot and move on.
CHAPTER 3
HARRISBURG, PENNSYLVANIA
I'd like to think my time in Harrisburg was the time God opened meup to the real fireworks—miracles I never thought were possible.
Miracle #1
I was relaxing on the rectory, the priests' porch, when an unidentifiedman approached me. He was not there to see just anyone; he wasthere to see me specifically. How or where he got my name was amystery.
He openly asked if I could cast the devil out of a person. I hadnever considered the possibility, and it wasn't part of the curriculumat the seminary. We were only taught to go through the religiouschannels of exorcism by the diocese. However, this man was in needof an immediate solution.
With my faith in the Good Lord, I told him, hoping that it wouldget me off the hook, "Anyone who has the Holy Spirit could cast thedevil out of a person."
Instead, he gave me a look that said, What about it? I then headedwith him into the church building.
Although there was no one in the church, all the lights wereturned on. I took him up to the communion altar rail and laid myhands on his head. Then I started silently praying to the Good Lord.Suddenly, he made a sound similar to hurricane wind. He shriekedin a voice louder than I'd thought was possible for any human being,and the echoes quickly filled the church. I continued to pray, but Ihad goose bumps running up and down my arms.
A form came out of him and passed by my ear. He was sweatingprofusely, and heavy mucus began running out of his nose. He wasobviously a strong devil who had tried, as a last resort, to give me aheart attack. However, he lost because of my faith in the Good Lord.Instead of being shaken by the ordeal, I was immensely blessed,because God had judged me worthy enough to experience such athing.
Immediately after the healed man went home, I went up to myroom in the rectory. I prostrated myself in worship to the Good Lord,who had exposed the devil to me and made me conquer him. It was ashining moment in my life, for I had met my enemy face-to-face.
The man told me of his sins, which I cannot reveal to you, butthey definitely opened the door to the Evil One and brought the manmisery. I once gave witness to this experience in a church. I thinkthe congregation was scared, because they never invited me back totheir church.
As you can easily imagine, I began to see and hear devilseverywhere. I know now, looking in hindsight, that the devil wastrying to get even with me for the grave torture I had put him through.This went on for a good week or two until I met a girl who had a stubfor a thumb.
Miracle #2
In front of my eyes, the Good Lord took hold of the girl's thumb andgrew it out to its normal size. It was similar to what you see on TVwhen the camera speeds up; however, this was for real. When I sawthe Good Lord do this, I said to myself, How did I ever have problemsin my life or worry? I was sailing with ecstasy; I was flying higher thanthe moon.
What I quickly got out of the experience was that everything Ihad been taught about God, heaven, and hell—and everything inthe Bible—was true. I felt secure because no longer was I alone in theworld, and I found no need to grieve over what I didn't have. Thistook a good bit of the sting out of the trying times.
There was, of course, a price for all of this, and not from theGood Lord but from the Evil One, or the devil, as you know him.He is more devastating and harmful than Hollywood portrays him.I have had physical and mental pain similar to the bites of scorpionsand poisonous snakes. Priests began to look at me suspiciously andtreated me like an outcast.
