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83 pages

English

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"What if nothing happens on the 13th? Aren't you afraid people will laugh at you?" asked the parish priest as he looked closely at 10-year-old Lucia. "Oh no, Father!" replied Lucia. "I know something wonderful is going to happen on the 13th. The Lady told us so." This book tells what happened and gives the wonderful story of Our Lady's appearances to little Jacinta, Francisco and Lucia. Impr. 162 pgs 15 Illus,

Sujets

Children's

Philosophie et théologie

Christian theology

Catholic Church

Christianity

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Publié par	TAN Books
Date de parution	31 décembre 1944
Nombre de lectures	0
EAN13	9781618905093
Langue	English
Poids de l'ouvrage	2 Mo

Informations légales : prix de location à la page 0,0350€. Cette information est donnée uniquement à titre indicatif conformément à la législation en vigueur.

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The Children of Fatima
And Our Lady’s Message to the World
Mary Fabyan Windeatt
Nihil Obstat:      Richard P. Grogan Censor Deputatus
Imprimatur:   ☩ Joseph E. Ritter, D.D. Archbishop of Indianapolis August 22, 1945 Feast of the Immaculate Heart of Mary
Copyright © 1945 by St. Meinrad’s Abbey, Inc., St. Meinrad, Indiana.
The Children of Fatima first appeared in serial form in the pages of The Rosary and The Grail . First published in book form in 1945 by The Grail, St. Meinrad, Indiana, entitled simply The Children of Fatima . Republished in paperbound by Abbey Press, St. Meinrad, Indiana.
The type in this book is the property of TAN Books and may not be reproduced, in whole or in part, without written permission from the Publisher. (This restriction applies only to reproduction of this type , not to quotations from the book.)
Library of Congress Catalog Card No.: 90-71828
TAN Books Charlotte, North Carolina www.TANBooks.com
2012
To the Immaculate Heart of Mary, Queen of the Most Holy Rosary, Queen of Peace, to whom the children of Fatima would have dedicated this book.
BOOKS BY MARY FABYAN WINDEATT
A Series of Twenty Books Stories of the Saints for Young People ages 10 to 100
THE CHILDREN OF FATIMA
And Our Lady’s Message to the World
THE CURÉ OF ARS
The Story of St. John Vianney, Patron Saint of Parish Priests
THE LITTLE FLOWER
The Story of St. Therese of the Child Jesus
PATRON SAINT OF FIRST COMMUNICANTS
The Story of Blessed Imelda Lambertini
THE MIRACULOUS MEDAL
The Story of Our Lady’s Appearances to St. Catherine Labouré
ST. LOUIS DE MONTFORT
The Story of Our Lady’s Slave, St. Louis Mary Grignion De Montfort
SAINT THOMAS AQUINAS
The Story of “The Dumb Ox”
SAINT CATHERINE OF SIENA
The Story of the Girl Who Saw Saints in the Sky
SAINT HYACINTH OF POLAND
The Story of the Apostle of the North
SAINT MARTIN DE PORRES
The Story of the Little Doctor of Lima, Peru
SAINT ROSE OF LIMA
The Story of the First Canonized Saint of the Americas
PAULINE JARICOT
Foundress of the Living Rosary & The Society for the Propagation of the Faith
SAINT DOMINIC
Preacher of the Rosary and Founder of the Dominican Order
SAINT PAUL THE APOSTLE
The Story of the Apostle to the Gentiles
SAINT BENEDICT
The Story of the Father of the Western Monks
KING DAVID AND HIS SONGS
A Story of the Psalms
SAINT MARGARET MARY
And the Promises of the Sacred Heart of Jesus
SAINT JOHN MASIAS
Marvelous Dominican Gatekeeper of Lima, Peru
SAINT FRANCIS SOLANO
Wonder-Worker of the New World and Apostle of Argentina and Peru
BLESSED MARIE OF NEW FRANCE
The Story of the First Missionary Sisters in Canada
CONTENTS
1. The Angel of Peace
2. Another Visitor
3. The Lady Comes Again
4. The Message
5. A New Life
6. An Unexpected Journey
7. The Test
8. The Fourth Visit
9. New Crowds in the Cova
10. The Great Miracle
11. The Victims
12. The Bells Toll in Fatima
13. The Great Sacrifice
14. To Lisbon
15. Farewell to Fatima
Epilogue
Favorite Prayers of the Children of Fatima .
Our Lady’s Great Promise
I T WAS a cool spring morning in the year 1916 in which the three children, natives of the Portuguese village of Fatima, saw nothing unusual. As was their custom, they had arisen before dawn, eaten breakfast, then driven their parents’ sheep to pasture. There had been the usual chatter along the road, the usual plans for games once the sheep were dispersed. And now it was raining, the chill drizzle that was to be expected in early spring.
“We mustn’t get too wet,” said six-year-old Jacinta. “Lucia, maybe we should go to the cave today.”
“Of course we should!” cried her eight-year-old brother Francisco. “It would be easy to watch the sheep from there.”
Their cousin, aged nine, surveyed the dreary landscape with a critical eye. This pasture where they had brought the sheep belonged to her parents. It was only a small field with a few straggling rows of olive trees at one end, but there was also a little rise of ground nearby, surmounted by a windmill. In the side of this hill was the cave—assuredly the best shelter the place offered.
“All right,” she said finally. “You carry the lunch boxes, Francisco, and see that they don’t get wet. I guess the sheep will be all right by themselves for a while.”
A bit breathless, the three finally reached the cave. It was dark inside, and rather cramped, but the young shepherds gave no thought to this. They were used to the place, for they frequently played here even on sunny days. Besides, the cave was dry and commanded a good view of the pasture. It would be easy to notice if the sheep began to stray.
For a while the children amused themselves with talk. Was it going to rain all day? Or would the sun come out so that they could play the Echo Game outside on the hill?
“I do hope the sun comes out,” said Jacinta, shivering a little. “It’s going to be dull if we have to stay in this place all day.”
Francisco agreed, although he was not too interested in the Echo Game. Of course it was fun to stand on the hilltop and shout different words into the still country air, then hear them come back from the distance. But it was even better to hunt through the pasture for stones, drag them into place and then build a house.
“If it clears up, I’ll build a really big house,” he told the two girls. “It’ll be the finest house you ever saw!”
Lucia laughed. Francisco was a year younger than she. Since he was a boy, he was a little inclined to think himself skilled at house-building. Yet he knew, and Jacinta knew, that it was really Lucia who was the leader. And why not? Wasn’t she the oldest? And the only one of the three children who had made her First Communion?
“We can decide what we’ll do later,” she said. “Right now let’s see what we have for lunch.”
An hour later the children had finished the bread, fruit and cheese which their mothers had packed for them. Then, seeing that the rain was almost over, Francisco suggested that they go outside to play. But Lucia would not listen. It was noon, wasn’t it? And they had finished their lunch? Very well. Now they must say the Rosary, as was the custom of countryfolk for miles around.
Francisco sighed. He had never been very fond of the Rosary—or of going to church. Deep in his heart was the feeling that such things were meant for women and girls. Yet there was no use arguing with Lucia, and so he fumbled in a pocket and brought out a small wooden rosary.
“Hurry up, then,” he said, “and as soon as we finish, I’m going to build the stone house. Just wait until you see how big and beautiful it is!”
For a few minutes all was peaceful in the cave as the three children told their beads. But a passer by would have been very much surprised at the manner in which the little shepherds honored the Mother of God. To save time, they said only the first two words of the Our Father on the large beads and the first two words of the Hail Mary on the small ones, for long ago they had discovered that in this way an entire Rosary could be recited in the twinkling of an eye!
Presently their prayers were finished, and Francisco looked hopefully at Lucia. “Now we can go and play?”
“No. It’s still raining.”
“But just a little!”
Jacinta gave a quick glance outside the cave. “It’s only a fine mist, Lucia.”
“That doesn’t matter.”
“But the house! I want to start looking for stones!”
“You stay with me, Francisco. You, too, Jacinta. We can have a game in here.”
Reluctantly the two children sat down again on the dirt floor of the cave. Lucia was the oldest, and long ago they had been told that they must obey her whenever they spent the day away from home. But as they sat, amusing one another with stories, a sudden gust of wind caused them to look up. Before they could worry as to whether or not a fresh storm was brewing, an amazing sight greeted them. Above the straggling olive trees at the far end of the field was a beautiful white light. It shone like the purest snow, the clearest crystal! But it was not still. It was moving—across the tops of the trees, across the open expanse of pasture, toward the cave!
The three children stared in awed silence as the strange glow approached, and they saw that in its very center stood a young man. He wore flowing white garments such as the three had noticed in pic tures of angels and saints in the parish church. But this was no picture. It was real!
“Fear not,” said the stranger. “I am the Angel of Peace.” Then, kneeling, he touched his forehead to the ground. “Pray with me,” he said.
Scarcely knowing what they did, the little shepherds fell upon their knees and imitated the actions of the strange young man. When he spoke, they repeated his words:
        My God, I believe in Thee! I adore Thee! I hope in Thee, and I love Thee! I ask pardon of Thee for those who do not believe, do not adore, do not hope, and do not love Thee.
Three times the Angel said this prayer, then arose. “Pray thus,” he said to them. “The Hearts of Jesus and Mary will hear your petitions.”
The next moment he was gone, leaving the children more awestruck than they had ever been in their lives. Indeed, when they returned to their homes that night, they could not bring themselves to speak of the day’s great event to anyone. Some how the Angel’s visit was too holy and beautiful for words.
It was not until mid-summer that the Angel came again. “What are you doing?” he asked. “Pray! Pray a great deal,” he told the children this time. “The Hearts of Jesus and Mary have merciful designs on you. Offer prayers and sacrifices continually to the Most High.”
Lucia hesitated, wondering whether or not it was proper to speak to an angel. Then a wave of courage swept through her. “How are we to make sacrifices?” she asked.
The heavenly visitor answered, “Make of everything you can a sacrifice, and offer it to God as an act of reparation for the sins by which He is offended and as a petition for the conversion of sinners. Bring pe