4 March, 2010
Santo Niño de Atocha Church,
When I was very young, in the third or fourth grade, my father, Francisco, was critically ill with typhoid fever and pneumonia. The doctors didn't expect him to live and my mother went for me at school.
I was outside the bedroom, my brother at the foot of the bed, when my father told him and my mom, "Go get my little girl’s chair so the little boy can sit down. Look he’s smiling and he’s taking his little hat off. Look! Get him the chair."
My brother and mother looked around and my brother said, "I didn’t bring my son. There’s no one here."
My father said said, "Yes, look at the boy. He’s standing there!" My father was smiling back.
That night my father’s fever broke and he recovered. The doctor was surprised next morning that he was alive.
My father remembered the little boy. He later described his clothing and said it was the Niñito de Atocha.
Many years later I went to Fresnillo [ed.- Fresnillo is a city in the state of Zacatecas, Mexico which has a nearby shrine dedicated to Santo Niño de Atocha] and they have a huge lock on His pedestal because He goes out and comes back full of mud and dust.
My father was a devout person who loved the Little Jesus til death.
I promised Niño de Atocha I would write this miracle and send it to this church. Thank you, Niño de Atocha. I love you.