"Remember that you are never alone. Christ is with you on your journey every day of your lives."--St. John Paul II 

One morning while playing with his toys and speaking to no one in particular, my four year old son, Michael, simply said,"The Master came to see me last night."

My first thought was that the Master was some kind of superhero that I was unfamiliar with. I remember mindlessly asking him general questions about this so called, Master. Later, on reflection, those words by my four year old would usher in a breathlessness, gratitude and love in the core of my being that was beyond measure.

"Where did he visit you?" I asked half interested, as I was talking to my daughters.

"My bedroom," Michael replied still not lifting his head from his toys.

"Where in your bedroom?" I inquired as this Master was suddenly beginning to pique my interest.

Michael lifted up his head to meet my inquiring eyes and gave me a look like I was the most clueless person alive.

"At the end of my bed," he replied like this happens to everyone and how could I not know this!

"Why was he there?" I asked now totally into the conversation and Kelly (13) and Katie(9) were beginning to get intrigued as well.

"To tell us that he loves us," Michael replied tenderly.

"Us?" I asked befuddled.

"Da other children, Mom," he answered sweetly.

"What other children?" I asked incredulously as an emotional current was running thru my heart.

"The ones at the end of my bed," he answered lovingly.

I honestly thought I was going to cry and with my heart beating rapidly against my chest, I asked Michael to show me where in his room the Master visited him. Being a visual person I needed to see what he was referring to. My four year old preceded to take me to his bedroom and walk to the end of his bed where he introduced me to the sacred spot on his floor.

"Right dere," he replied pointing to where the children gathered nightly to hear the Master speak. "Astonished I then asked Michael if the Master had ever been there beside last night?

He simply answered yes...

Trying to wrap my head around everything I then asked what the Master looked like.

"Him have ba-wound hair and ba-wound eyes and him was wearing a ga-ween and white wrobe," he replied very matter-of-fact with his little speech impediment.

In disbelief my initial thought was my son was simply describing our parish priest at the time. But why?

I couldn't shake the utterly sublime conversation Michael had had with the girls and I. I prayed on it and thought about it all day long. The next morning as the girls were getting ready for school, I delicately asked Michael if the Master had come into his room again the previous night.

 He simply shook his head yes.

"How does he get into your room," Kelly asked in disbelief.

"Him come from there?" Michael replied as he pointed near the window in his bedroom.

"The window?" Kelly questioned a bit surprised.

"No," he replied. White dere," he went on to say and pointed to a spot on the wall right next to the window. "Him just walk white frew it," Michael replied.

Unsure of what to even say or do, I again asked the same mundane questions as previously and Michael replied with the exact same answers. The Master had brown hair and eyes, he wore a green and white robe, Michael was sitting with other children on the floor, at the feet of the Master. All the children present were listening to him speak and he told them that he loved them.

 I was overwhelmed!! 

(Continued next week....)