A miracle on Easter of 1999

My three children and I, my mother, and my step dad, we decided to travel to Europe for nine or ten days during Spring break of 1999.  We left for Florence, but the flight had to land in Milan, and we got to stay in Milan for free.  The next day we took the train to Pisa, then Florence to stay for two days, then to Rome for Easter Sunday.  A day or two in Rome before Easter, my wallet was stolen, and I lost all money and credit cards.  Luckily, I was with my parents, so they paid the rest of the trip for all of us.

Needless to say, I was a bit mad of the incident because I would never bring that much in cash when I traveled by myself before.  This time, I was traveling with my children, and the daughter was only about a year old, so it was so hectic for me to get traveler checks before the trip.  The day before Easter Sunday, we visited the Sistine Chapel, and I had to use my passport to rent some headsets.  When I returned the headsets, I am not sure whether my passport was returned to me, but it was not in my purse.  I probably combed through my purse so many times to look for my passport.  I remember dumping everything inside the purse onto my bed, and I searched through each item one by one, but my passport was not there.  We had to board the midnight train to go to Paris Sunday night, so I had to find my passport somehow.  

On Easter Sunday, we went to an outdoor mass in St. Peter's Square, and Pope John Paul II said mass.  I was so mad at God about everything.  When I went up for communion, I was moved to tears for some reason.  I was crying so much that my mother was wondering about it.  I did not mean to cry but tears were pouring uncontrollably.  After mass, I decided to walk to the Vatican City which is nearby to see whether I could talk to somebody to help me to retrieve the passport, a wishful thinking.  The guards told me to come back at 2pm.  My parents and my children were waiting patiently for me after the mass in St. Peter's Square while I was walking around the Vatican City.  I then decided to walk to the back of St. Peter Basilica to see if I could find some Italian priest to help me.  So before I walked inside the basilica, I decided to search in my purse one more time just to be sure.  As I reached into my purse, the first passport that I pulled out was my passport.  I was so flabbergasted but happy at the same time.  I could not be so thankful.  I walked back to where my family was to tell them of the good news.  I never told them the details of my predicament.  They were happy for me, and we all left to get some lunch. 

To this date, it is still a mystery.  I could only thank God for helping me to find the passport.  My children really enjoyed the midnight train ride and they always speak with fond memory.  For me, Rome would always be a place of romance, of miracles, and of so many wonderful memories.