Last week in Medjugorje, I met an Irish guy named Kevin. I ran into him so many times that we just decided we had to be friends
While we were talking, Kevin told me how much he loved St. Michael. I told him I did too, and then he shared something I’ll never forget.
Years ago, he went to the cave of St. Michael in Italy and prayed for the grace to quit smoking. He had been smoking since he was twelve years old. Someone had told him that if you prayed sincerely for a miracle there, St. Michael would intercede for you.
Kevin believed it with his whole heart.
And after that pilgrimage, he never smoked again. It's been over twelve years.
I was amazed.
We started talking about the “Sword of St. Michael,” the line of sacred sites dedicated to St. Michael stretching across Europe and the Holy Land. I told him I had already been to the monastery in France, the one in Jerusalem, and the sanctuary in Italy.
Then he said, “There’s one in Greece too.”
I had completely forgotten about that one. I was heading to Greece the next week to stay with my aunt, but traveling to the small islands is more difficult than you might think.
I continued with my week in Medjugorje and St. Michael fell to the back of my mind.
Later in Greece, my Aunt Christina suddenly called me over and said, “Look at this.” She showed me a tiny island called Symi near Rhodes. She knew I was flying to Rhodes later that week.
“There’s a monastery of St. Michael there,” she said.
Immediately, my heart started racing.
Could this actually be part of the Sword of St. Michael?
It was.
I landed in Rhodes at 8 a.m., and the rest of my group wasn’t arriving until 1 p.m. The ferry to Symi took about an hour. If everything worked perfectly, I could maybe make the trip there and back in time.
I decided to try.
And honestly, I was so excited I could barely stand it.
“St. Michael Sent Me Angels”
The ferry ride was rough, but but the second I stepped off the boat onto Symi, I could feel that the island was blessed.
I immediately started trying to find transportation because I only had a few hours before I needed to return. No taxis. No clear plan. Just stress and rapidly disappearing time.
So I started praying.
“St. Michael, please help me.”
A crippled man approached me first. He didn’t speak English, but he was trying his best to guide me toward the bus stop. Then at the bus stop, I met an English woman who introduced me to an English-Greek man named Will.
He explained that I had missed the bus by fifteen minutes.
My heart sank.
Then he said, “I can arrange a private ride for 60 euros.”
At that point, I had come too far to turn back.
“I just need to light a candle,” I told him.
So we went.
And somehow the entire day became even more beautiful.
Will drove me all over the island, showing me hidden places and breathtaking views. Along the way, he told me he had only returned to the faith six months earlier. He’s thirty-three years old now.
He told me he's baptizing his baby this June.
“I sinned greatly,” he said. “I saw so much evil that I realized God had to be real.”
By the end of the day, I couldn’t shake the feeling that St. Michael had sent people — little angels, really — to guide me the entire way.
And honestly?
I’ll bring everyone and their mother back to this island one day.
It is one of the most beautiful places I have ever seen.
And it was worth every second.
Learn more about the "Sword of St. Michael" here
