Marian Helper • Winter 2023-24 • Marian.org 25 Robert stepped outside and hailed a taxi. It was a green Volkswagen Beetle (at right), a familiar sight on the streets of the Mexican capital. A few minutes into the ride, the driver pulled over at a roadside store and told Robert he was going to buy cigarettes. Robert had been sitting in the car alone for a few minutes when he was suddenly slammed onto the floor by two men who had burst through the doors on either side of him. Robert’s legs and hands were tightly bound with his own belt and tie; a weapon was pressed into his back; and the men screamed that if he tried to get up, they would kill him. They blindfolded Robert and started rifling through his wallet, kicking and punching him, and shouting demands for his bank PIN to use his ATM card. And then, unexpectedly, a hush descended on the vehicle. Something had changed. In a subdued tone, one of the thieves asked Robert, “What is this card? Are you a Catholic?” Though Robert could not see what his attacker was holding, he knew. It was the Divine Mercy Image. Amid terror, peace The shouting and pummeling stopped. The thieves drove Robert around the city, stopping at ATMs to make withdrawals from his bank accounts. After a while, Robert felt the car bouncing over a mountain road. About an hour later, it stopped and the thieves got out, leaving Robert with an armed guard while they stashed their spoils and waited for midnight, when they would be able to attempt more withdrawals. The guard never said a word. Robert lay, still bound and dazed, on the floorboards. In the new quiet, he inhaled the serene fragrance of pine. Beneath the edge of his blindfold, he caught glimpses of moonlight. “A peace came over me,” Robert recalls. “I imagined that maybe this was a hillside like Tepeyac where Juan Diego once walked, and where the Virgin appeared to him, presenting him with fragrant roses. Surely Jesus and Mary were here.” Comforted, and reconciled to whatever might happen, Robert finished praying the Rosary. Midnight came, and with it the thieves. After the final withdrawal had been made, the thief who had asked Robert about the Divine Mercy Image told him (“sounding almost sorry,” Robert thought), “Just treat this as a bad night. Go home and take a hot shower and forget this ever happened.” The men unbound Robert and even helped him out of the car. “Run,” they told him, “but if you turn around, we’ll kill you.” Robert ran. Roadside Shrine Robert could tell he was in a bad neighborhood, dark and remote. He could make out only one small light, and he hurried toward it. As he got closer, Robert saw that the light came from a casita, a type of roadside shrine common in Mexico. This one was a glass box containing only a lightbulb and a statue of Mary. Robert fell to his knees, thanking God and Our Lady that he was alive. Alone in a dangerous part of town, miles away from his home, Robert says, “Never had I felt so safe … I was home with the Virgin.” After he finished praying, Robert knocked on the door of a house that turned out to be the only one on the street with a telephone. He called his boss, who came to get him with an armed police officer. By the grace of God, Robert made it home to his wife and children in safety that night. Two years later, he made it all the way home to the Catholic Church. Since that night, Robert has never left his Rosary unfinished. His family still prays it together daily, along with a daily Divine Mercy Chaplet. God’s presence Robert’s kidnapping turned into a dramatic demonstration of God’s presence, but he wants to remind people that in the ordinary tasks of ordinary days, God is always just as powerfully present. Robert and his family now live in the southeastern United States, but he has returned to Mexico City more than once since 1997. With gratitude, he remembers “a lot of pious people in Mexico who taught me so much about the Faith.” During his trips there, he never fails to visit Our Lady at her Basilica. And no matter where in the world he goes, Robert carries copies of the Divine Mercy Image in his wallet — one to keep, and the others to give away. “What is this card? Are you a Catholic?” Though Robert could not see what his attacker was holding, he knew. It was the Divine Mercy Image. Steve Cadman/Wikicommons
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