On Padre Pio (Part I): My journey to Papa Pio

Last year, a supplier turned good friend, offered me a Quanta System Laser I could ill-afford. I was invited to the grand launch dinner event in Manila, attended their next-day lecture series reserved for a small group of very select doctors and was introduced to the company bigshots from Italy. In this day and age of lasers, despite already having other machines in my clinic, I could not suppress my desire to purchase this new equipment with its broad array of very successful aesthetic dermatology platform worldwide. I would be the first Dermatologist to own a Quanta Laser in the Philippines, and I was drooling.

As with every important decision that I make, big or small, I started praying for guidance from above. I asked God for a sign.

The sign came when I was invited to dinner again a few days after. Our group consisted only of the Quanta System gentlemen from Milan, the official distributor team in Manila and myself. Business matters were discussed first, followed by a very lively sharing of clinical experiences with lasers, then finally the group presented me with a laser training course in Italy. For ten years it has been the greatest desire of my heart to visit San Giovanni Rotondo but I never got the final push to go. Their invitation to Italy undeniably firmed-up my decision to acquire the Quanta Laser and fly. This led to the fulfilment of a dream at a time I least expected it. After my laser training, I would be off to visit St. Padre Pio!

Exactly ten years ago, I was at a crossroad. I felt forsaken. Having been betrayed by people whom I loved unconditionally and cared for selflessly, I was suffering from hurt and abuse at the hands of those I had trusted completely. The closure of the clinic where I was working dealt me yet another jolting blow. I felt the whole world closing in on me. My loved ones had chosen to live abroad and I felt I had nowhere to run, no one to talk to. I suffered the pangs of loneliness.

Abandoned, abused, moneyless and alone, I found myself driving with all my misfortunes to a quiet Chapel near Eastwood I had only once visited with my parents in the past. I have no idea what forces drew me there nor how I found my way. But the moment I fell down on my knees in front of the statue of Padre Pio, in the quiet of the prayer room, embraced by an inexplicable heavenly presence, I broke down and cried my oh-so broken heart out. I was clinging to him, with whatever little strength was left in me, as he raised my heart to God.

That day, I received a promise in my heart that everything would be all right. This was the beginning of my journey to “Papa Pio,” as I affectionately call my saint.

Ten years after my journey to Papa Pio began, I found myself driving with my family to San Giovanni Rotondo. On our way, we were in high spirits as we ate, sang and laughed in our rented van. The kids seemed quite excited too. Surprisingly, not one of them fell asleep during our long drive.

Our excitement mounted as soon as my mother pointed out the mountain range in the South of Italy, in the province of Foggia where the city lies. We let out a loud cheer as we spotted a billboard of the good Padre! The city was full of Padre Pio hustle and bustle. There were many souvenir shops along the way and a great variety of Padre Pio paraphernalia.

I insisted that we immediately proceed to La Chiesa di Padre Pio da Pietrelcina (the Church of Padre Pio of Pietrelcina) and visit the crypt where his incorrupt body lay. We made a few wrong turns along the way and had no idea where to park our car. I struggled not to feel upset at the thought of not reaching our destination before closing hours for the night. I prayed that we would make it in time as the idea of missing seeing my saint for one out of our three-day stay at San Giovanni Rotondo was unacceptable to me. Thank God, following Papa Pio’s dictum of “Pray, Hope and Don't Worry”, we made it!

Upon seeing the sign Chiesa Inferiore: Corpo di San Pio (Lower Church- Relics of the Saint) my heart started beating faster. Our little group practically ran hoping to gain entrance in time. And yes, it was meant to be. I was the last visitor admitted for that night!

As the crowd thinned, and those waiting in line ahead of us, one by one, got their turn to pass our beloved saint, my heart started pounding. As I slowly approached him, I thought my chest would burst! It felt surreal to me when I finally stood beside the body of my saint, our saint, who draws millions of devotees to visit him even 48 years after his death in 1968. Today, September 23, we celebrate his feastday.

I had flashbacks of the past ten years of my life. As I praised God for all the blessings I have received, I thanked Padre Pio for all his miracles. My tears kept flowing. So deeply touched was I, as he lay before my very eyes, remembering vividly the first day I begged for his help.

Up close, seeing his beloved face with his eyebrows, lashes and beard, his hands which bore the stigmata of Christ for 50 years and seeing him dressed in the brown Franciscan habit to which he was so attached to all his religious life, I could almost feel his breath on my cheek.

I was ecstatic to see this great saint. In the flesh. St. Padre Pio of Pietrelcina, a man who bore the wounds of Christ.