Our Bodies Are Wise.
September 25, 2018
Nazaré, Portugal
www.mymobileadventure.com
When I mentioned to my friend Julie that I was going to Portugal, she asked, “Why Portugal?”
“I’m not sure,” I answered, “Except it’s the first country that came to mind when I accepted the friend pass gift.” (www.mymobileadventure.com).
I had no preconceived ideas about Portugal. No friends raved about it. No photos of awesome beaches came to mind. Only a still, small voice that whispered, “Go to Portugal.”
Julie continued. “I’ve always wanted to go to Fatima.” I invited her to join me during my stay. She beamed. “Yes! I’ll join you and we can go to Fatima together.” Before Julie mentioned it, I had no plans to go to Fatima. Our Lady of Fatima, is a Catholic title of the Blessed Virgin Mary based on the famed Marian apparitions reported in 1917 by three children in Fatima. https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Our_Lady_of_Fátima.
We arrived in Nazare around 5:00 pm and I opened up the Airbnb app. We found a place called Maria’s House. Julie loved the name, being a big fan of the Virgin Mary, whom she affectionately calls Big Mamma.
We booked it and found ourselves in a beautiful three-bedroom apartment on top of the hill overlooking the Atlantic Ocean.
The sunset view from Maria’s House – Airbnb
The next morning, I typed Fatima into google maps and off we went. I continued in my role as navigator. However, this time navigating was different. I felt car sick so I unplugged my phone and allowed the google maps voice direct Julie. I pushed on acupressure points on my wrist which usually stops my nausea.
https://www.wikihow.com/Stop-Nausea-With-Acupressure. It did nothing. My hands tingled, then went numb. I felt light headed. I tried everything – windows up, windows down. A/C blasting. Eyes open. Eyes closed. Nothing worked. My nausea worsened.
About 20 yards before entering into the Shrine at Fatima I told Julie to pull over. I vomited for what seemed an eternity. It’s been decades since I’ve gotten car sick.
When I was completely spent, I looked up through my sunglasses to see leaves on the trees. They were brilliant and different shades of green, something I’ve never seen before.
Julie brought me a wet napkin and water to wash my face.
As I got back into the car, the numbness in my hands went away. Five minutes later we parked and went to mass.
During the service Julie leaned over and said, “I was told that you getting sick before entering Fatima is a form of reconciliation and that Mother wants you to receive communion.”
“OK.” I sighed. “If it came from your source, I’ll do it.” I took it on faith and received communion. Lightning didn’t strike the church. I didn’t fall into a pit of fire. I didn’t get sick again.
Julie holds up the statue at the Shrine at Fatima
The meaning of this story continues to unfold for me.
Maybe I released worn out, limiting thoughts and beliefs, old stories, anger towards religion and towards others, misperceptions, judgments, fears, and resentments.
Maybe I made space for new ideas, new relationships, love, prosperity, and joy.