I was wheeling our garbage toter to the curb one afternoon, and as I came from around the back of the house, I saw a most interesting cloud which looked like a preborn infant in the womb.

I could very easily make out the distinct shape of the curled fetus, complete with accurately-sized head with closed eyes, nose, and mouth.  The arms and legs were curled in toward the chest--in fact the legs were crossed at the shins.  There was even an umbilical cord.

After depositing the toter at the curb, the wind began to pick up, and as I turned to observe the cloud again, I was mortified to see it being pulled apart.  I was sickened as I watched the head and neck become stretched and pulled away from the body.  The wind turned the rest of the cloud into what looked like mush.

And all this on the day I received the first very serious inquiry about the Sisters of the Holy Innocents and St. Gianna Molla.

Such events are really not that unusual when I'm working on the Holy Innocents sisterhood paperwork.  When I first started designing the vocation brochure (still in progress--sorry), I was startled one morning when opening the back door to find a black cat hunched up on my patio.  My Beagle went ballistic.  A few mornings later, I found the same cat hunched up at the top of the small hill behind the house.  Several days later, I saw the cat hunkered down between two parked cars across the street from our house.  I related these incidents to my then-next-door-neighbor, who promised to shoot it if he saw it--he believed it to be a witch's familiar.  I haven't seen the cat since.

I am also in possession of a Holy Innocents rosary, from the Church of the Holy Innocents in New York City.   A day before the rosary arrived in my mailbox, we felt a diabolical presence at the corner of the property line on the hill behind the house (scene of the second black cat incident).  Both of our dogs started whimpering and covering their faces with their paws.  I invoked the St. Benedict medal attached to my Five-Fold Scapular, and called on Our Lady, St. Michael, and the angels.  The presence finally faded, and the dogs were back to normal.

FWIW.

Blessings, Gemma