Pope Francis, General Audience September 18, 2013
Roses in March
Jill Frankenberry, Ph.D.
I was born in Manhattan and raised in Greenwich Village. At age five, I had double pneumonia and (what was later, in my adulthood, diagnosed as pericarditis). I was too ill to be put into the hospital. One day I had an apparition.
I have had at least three of these and I need to explain to you what an “apparition” or “vision” is. (I will write more about my apparitions in future.)
“An act of appearing; manifestation”. This can occur in various ways and it is not a hallucination, a febrile event, nor is it a dream. It occurs between sleep and waking: perhaps a second, but there is no “time” in God’s “mind”, so such an event can seem to last several minutes or longer. And when one has had one, when one’s first apparition/vison has proven itself, then further such are never questioned. I know that some, who have another life experience, might think me mentally ill, but I am not. Mammon Marie *saw* the angel that reported to her she would bear the Son of God: was she hallucinating?
I saw the Blessed Mother (I called her the Blessed Mommy as a young child and was quite devoted to her). She warned me about my life; she told me it would be quite difficult, that my heart would be “broken”, and that God would never abandon me. The experience is impossible to explain except to say this: there was a “glow” around her that was physical; her voice was not merely a voice, it was the single most soothing sound that I can’t begin to describe it. People ask me “What did she look like”……”look like” has NO meaning, there is something so beyond what our eyes see when we look at one another, there is something so much greater, that it defies any explanation.
My earthly mother saw me in this condition (I may have appeared dying to her, I don’t know) and shook me violently. I remember this vividly. I opened my eyes and said to her, “Leave me alone. I want to stay with the lady.” She and I discussed this many times during my adult life. That apparition changed my life. I knew something cataclysmic would occur in my lifetime; I always thought it would be a worldwide event. I was wrong: it was a personal event. Without the Blessed Mother’s assurance, I would not be surviving that personal event.
Mammon also gave me a number: 23. Now, I was basically ignoring this number and then I noticed that on the 23rd day of various months over the years (not continuously, thank God!) life changing things happened, some of them quite serious, even frightening. I began to pay closer attention; I began to get more than a little superstitious about the 23rd day of any month as I went into my 50s. When my daughter reached her 23rd birthday, she was in the middle of a fast and furious oncoming mental illness. I told her father, “We are going to lose her this year”, and he asked why I would say that. My answer was, “This is the 23 Mammon Marie warned me about.”
The “broken heart” stayed with me also; as a very young child at age five, I took it literally. For my entire lifetime I have had premature ventricular contractions (PVCs), most likely the result of pericarditis. (Not coincidentally, St. Bernadette also had “palpitations” throughout her young life.) My EKG has always been odd, but I have a healthy heart. The PVCs mean nothing, they are benign; but to a child, having been told by your Blessed Mommy that you have a “broken heart”, they were terrifying. It wasn’t until I got pregnant that I stopped worrying about them. I thought, surely God would not have given me this amazing gift, a child at my age!, only to let me die from some sort of heart problem.
I have a heart problem now. It isn’t physical; my heart is in perfect condition. It is psychological, emotional, and spiritual. On March 2, it will be four years since I lost my daughter.
And now, roses in March. The day my daughter took her life, right after speaking to her (she was using my cell phone) I jumped off my couch and I just KNEW what had happened: I just KNEW it. In the two or three minutes between our last conversation, she did what she did, and I *KNEW* it. I called my credit card company: yes my credit card had been used to purchase a shotgun. I called 911: I begged them not to shoot her (I was afraid that, since she was armed, this might happen). There was a police officer in my home when she was found. We have since become friends, this young man saved me.
April left this world on 3/2/11 (second day, third month). That late evening, I went into the psychiatric ward (on my request) and spent three days and three nights there (like Jesus, in the tomb). During those three days and nights, the OTHER PATIENTS took care of me, loved me unconditionally, and took me to meals, made sure I was among them from morning to bed time. Now, these are people in the lock down ward, suffering from serious psychosis, failing medication: look what they did for me. In the French Credo the phrase, “… est descendu aux enfers, le troisième jour est ressuscite des mort…” is exactly what I experienced. I descended into “the fire” and on the third day I was raised from the “dead”.
The day after I returned to an empty house was March 6th. I had a dining room behind a French door which was rarely used. My quite elderly mother had lived there for two years and it had always retained a foul odor: no matter what I did, I could not rid that room of that odor. On March 6th, a Sunday in 2011, I opened the door and went into that room (don’t remember why). It smelled like the Queen of England’s rose garden, as if I was standing in the middle of hundreds of rose bushes in full bloom. I walked out, closed the door behind me, and then asked myself the question “WHAT?” I went back in: Queen’s rose garden. The beautiful scent lasted for three days but the room never regained its horrible odor again.
Roses in March. My daughter, with God’s allowance, telling me she was safe in His arms; my Mammon Marie, reminding me that I was walking the path she had warned me of, and doing it well….choose one.
Mystics are not well received in Roman Catholicism. I was told I should “report” this apparition to my Bishop/Cardinal, but the Diocese of New York is not interested. She did not give me a message for the world, she gave me her everlasting presence, her total empathy for what I would experience (and am experiencing), and a touch stone. She is my touch stone.
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About the Author
I was born in Manhattan and raised in Greenwich Village. At age five, I had double pneumonia and (what was later, in my adulthood, diagnosed as pericarditis). I was too ill to be put into the hospital. At that time (1952-1953) there were no pediatric wards. One day I had a near death experience. I saw the Blessed Mother (I called her the Blessed Mommy as a young child and was quite devoted to her). She warned me about my life; she told me it would be quite difficult, that my heart would be “broken”, and that God would never abandon me. The experience is impossible to relate except to say this: there was a “glow” around her that was physical; her voice was not merely a voice, it was the single most soothing sound: ocean waves, symphonies, can’t even describe it. My earthly mother saw me in this condition and shook me violently. I remember this vividly. I opened my eyes and said to her, “Leave me alone. I want to stay with the lady.” She and I discussed this many times during my adult life. That vision, NDE, or whatever it was, changed my life. I knew something cataclysmic would occur in my lifetime; I always thought it would be a worldwide event. I was wrong: it was a personal event. Without the Blessed Mother’s assurance, I would not have survived that personal event.
At age nine, my father left. When I was 10 years of age, he died mysteriously. My earth mother then passed me on to my Aunt and Grandmother who lived on Sullivan Street in Little Italy (the west part of Little Italy). Across the street was the shrine church of Saint Anthony, who has become a lifelong friend and has done many amazing things in my life. I attended the St. Anthony school and then went on to parochial high school.
I have travelled a great deal in my lifetime. In the past two years, I have been to Europe four times: Papal General Audience 9/18/2013; Paris, sacred shrines (Nevers, Lisieux, etc.), Lourdes (three times), Fatima once. Last September I spent the entire month in Italy and stayed five days and nights in Lourdes because the mother of Jesus is also my mother.
I have had visions my entire life (no, I am not mentally ill; of this I am certain). I have seen things, been given information intended only for me, and have had miraculous occurrences that are almost impossible to believe.
I lost my only child, my daughter April, on March 2, 2011. The timing involved and the date itself, as well as her age at the time (23), corresponded with the number the Blessed Mother gave me at my age five: 23. I would like to share some of these remarkable events to help strengthen the faith of anyone who is in need. I thank you for the opportunity to do so.
I have recently a published book of poetry, "The Milky Way Streets"
