"My Prayer is Stronger"
As a child, I was attacked by a very serious type of smallpox. My illness got worse by day by day. The doctor had lost all hope and the family priest felt that I would not survive.
One night the priest dreamt that I had died. He ran to our house immediately, at dead of night, and knocked at the door. My mother, quite alarmed, opened the door. The priest rushed toward me, as I lay fast asleep inside the mosquito net. Until then my suffering had been most pitiful, but I suddenly awoke, screaming a healthy cry. Upon hearing this the priest started striking his chest with his fists, in joy or dismay, or both, and tearing at his hair. 'O God!' he cried. 'You have deceived me. But my heart is overwhelmed with joy and gratitude at your deception!'
My mother wanted to know why the priest had come at such a late hour, so the priest, still trembling, told her all about his dream. My mother replied, 'Venerable sir, my prayer is infinitely stronger than a child's smallpox.'
