This was the last book I did in the Monastery. It is available on Amazon either as a Paperback or Kindle. All paperback sales go to support the monastery while the Sisters have graciously allowed Kindle sales to go to me.
Thank You, Josie
by Emily A. Whitley – Dadeville, Alabama
A number of years ago, I was privileged to meet a woman who greatly impacted my life. Her name was Sister Josepha McNutt of the Child Jesus, a Missionary Servant of the Blessed Trinity. She lived and worked at Blessed Trinity Shrine Retreat in Alabama.
This wonderful woman was filled with a love of life and of others that was amazing to see. Just being around her was an inspiration. Sister Josepha eventually became my spiritual advisor. I met with her once a month and grew to greatly love her.
During the next few years, Sister Josepha helped me through difficult times and rejoiced with me over the happy ones. Her presence and guidance became a major part of my life. With her encouragement, I felt that I could do anything, and after a while, decided to become a lay member of the Missionary Cenacle Apostolate.
One day upon returning from a trip out of town, I came into my house to see the answering machine blinking with a huge number of messages. When I punched the play button all the messages were from people who were associated with the Missionary Cenacle family asking me to call them!
I knew it couldn’t be good. Before answering any calls, I went to my e-mail. There I read the tragic news that my dear Sister Josepha had been killed in an automobile accident. A large truck carrying a full load of logs had struck her car as she turned onto the road near the retreat house. She had been killed instantly.
While mourning the death of my dear friend, I knew that I would continue to have her help through prayer. I asked Sister Josepha to intercede with God for me and for my family and placed myself under her protection, asking her to somehow continue to guide me from her place in heaven. Little did I know how she would come through!
Sometime during the first year after her death, I was driving through the parking lot of a local store. The lot led out into a major highway through a traffic lighted intersection. Lost in thought, I noticed the light change to green and started into the intersection without looking to the right or left.
Suddenly, I felt this presence to the left of my shoulder and heard a voice speaking in my mind saying, “Stop, look! Stop, look!”
I turned my head to the left. Two huge, heavily loaded lumber trucks were racing through the red light. I stomped on the brake in heart stopping panic, barely missing them.
Now the strange thing is that at the time I thought nothing of it. I drove out onto the highway and simply said aloud, “Thank you, Josie,” as if it were the most natural thing in the world.
It wasn’t until I was a bit further down the road that the full impact of what had happened hit me. Had I not heeded that voice, I would certainly have been killed. Sister Josepha was still on the job.