Let's Join Our Hands for Nature

There was a lady I met at Saint Dominic who approached me one day with a simple but heartfelt request. She asked if she could come with us to Sebastopol because she was looking for her son, Vincent, who she believed was working somewhere in that area. You could feel a mother’s longing in her voice.

So we went together—my wife Carol was with me—and we attended Mass first, offering everything to God. Afterward, we shared lunch together, carrying in our hearts the same intention: that she would find her son.

After lunch, we went around the community, trying to locate where he might be working. We followed what little information we had until we reached a pub where he was said to be employed.

But when we got there, it was closed.

Still, we tried. We knocked on the door, hoping for something, even just a small sign.

Then suddenly, a car pulled up. The driver stopped and asked what we were looking for.

To our surprise, it was the owner of the pub.

At that moment, it felt like one of those Exacto moments—something you cannot plan, something only God can arrange. Out of all the timing, out of all the places, he was there right when we needed an answer.

That was last year.

Then recently, I saw her again in Benicia. She told me she had been looking for me and asked me to continue praying for her and her son.

At another time, she joined us at San Sebastian Church where we sang at the Mass. Her intention stayed in my heart.

During Holy Thursday, she was not with us, but as we attended Mass and continued the tradition of visiting the seven churches, I carried her prayer in my heart. I continued to pray for her, for her son, for that reunion she had been longing for.

Still, God was already working.

Then she sent me a message.

She said, “A miracle happened today.”

She told me that she had seen her son Vincent. Not only that—her daughter, her son-in-law, and her granddaughter were with her. They found where he lives, and they were able to talk to him.

She said, “It was a miracle.”

And in that moment, I realized once again—God answers prayers.

Not always in our time.

Not always in the way we expect.

But always in His perfect way.

What we could not accomplish that day, God completed in His own time.

From a mother’s tears…

to tears of joy.

And on the day of the Resurrection, it became a story of hope, of faith, and of God’s perfect timing.

Because when we continue to pray, to trust, and to believe—

God moves.

And when He moves…

It is always exacto.