“Time Had No Meaning � ”

“PadrePio was the one looking for me, like a father who looks for his child. It was July 1947, and I was seventeen years old. I went to San Giovanni Rotondo for the first time, and it turned out to be an overwhelming experience, the most all-encompassing experience of my life. From that moment, Padre Pio has never left me alone. He is always close to me. He never abandons me.”

Mrs. Ida Bartolucci radiates such an explosive peace of mind; it hits you like a gust of wind. She is ninety years old, but she doesn’t look it. Her manners and the way she speaks are elegant, and her gaze is very sweet. She has always been a housewife. She raised four children, and for thirty years, she has been taking people to Padre Pio’s grave on pilgrimages. She lives in a beautiful place. Belvedere Fogliense is a little village in the hills surrounding Urbino. The silence here is almost absolute, and the landscape makes your heart sing. Mrs. Ida immediately agrees to tell me about her meeting with Padre Pio, with a tissue in her hands, because she can’t talk about him without getting emotional.

“In 1947, the war had been over for two years, and people wanted to find a job and move on with their lives. Nobody talked about Padre Pio. Only a few people knew him, and even fewer had met him. At that time, I lived in Rome with my parents, and I worked in a wool factory. One of my friends went to Apulia on her honeymoon. Somebody told her about a friar who lived in the Gargano area, so she went to San Giovanni Rotondo. She was impressed. She brought me a gift: it was a little book, very small, with Padre Pio’s picture on the cover. The size was that of a passport photo. However, there was a whole mountain within that square inch: it magnetized me. I looked at it, at Padre Pio’s picture, and I felt the need to go there. To him. I tried to deny it. I told myself it was a long trip, that I was too young, and it could be dangerous. But it was useless. It looked like Padre Pio was calling me, and his call was too intense. I decided to travel with a friend of mine so that I would not be alone. We waited for the factory to give us a three days’ leave, and we left for Apulia. When I saw Padre Pio, right there in front of me, I was overwhelmed by an unbelievable power.

“Padre Pio celebrated Mass at five in the morning, but you had to wait in line at four o’clock. We were all standing in line, in the darkness, in front of the closed door of the monastery. Then, at the time of the celebration, the doors were opened, and the pilgrims filled the little church, trying to get as close as possible to Padre Pio. On that day, I saw him celebrating Mass, and I actually understood its meaning. I have never forgotten it. His Mass was a mystery, so deep and mystical. It has been stated on different occasions, and it has been written about in many books, that during Mass, Padre Pio’s body lived through Christ’s Passion again. And it was true; I witnessed it. Padre Pio suffered physically, and everyone could see it. I saw his face crumpling, with his staring eyes, and his mouth seemed to be about to scream. It was hard for him to breathe, he attempted to stand, and he leaned on the altar. His face was covered with sweat and tears. It was heart-wrenching; we were all witnesses of a torture. The people were on their knees, crying. Everybody was suffering together with him. It felt like the sufferings were never going to end, but then it was time for the Consecration. Padre Pio raised the host, and he held it with his outstretched arms. Some people say he could hold it up for half an hour. He did the same with the goblet. He was ecstatic again and again during Mass. He used to suddenly look up and start talking to someone only he could see. Watching a man going into ecstasies is overwhelming: he is made of light, and you are aware of his soul leaving his body. Mass lasted more than two hours, but none of the people felt the exhaustion or the pain in their legs after all that time kneeling. Everybody was focusing on Padre Pio, on the sacrifice he was experiencing. Time no longer had a meaning. Later, following Holy Communion, Padre Pio was different; he became bright and peaceful. We could all notice his spiritual joy. I have no doubts: watching him was like watching Jesus.

“I did not manage to talk to him on that occasion, in 1947. There was no time; I had to go back to work. If you wished to confess to Padre Pio, you had to book him in advance, and the wait could last days. Even though I did not have the opportunity to talk to him, when I was back home, I felt different. I had lived a one-of-a-kind experience. I really thought that the monastery was my future and that I was going to become a nun. But God had different plans for me. I went to Pesaro on vacation, and I met Matteo, who later became my husband. I was in love, but I was hesitating. I did not know if the right choice was to accept his courting or to devote myself to God. One night I had a dream: I was in a room with two of my previous suitors that I had rejected. Suddenly, Matteo was also there, and I heard a very sweet voice that said, ‘This one is for you.’

“I woke up, and I had no doubts. Matteo and I were married in 1952, and we immediately visited Padre Pio to be blessed.

“I remember it as if it happened yesterday. He was in the confessional, which was open because he could not breathe normally, and he needed fresh air. Matteo and I were newlyweds. We bent on our knees, in front of him. My joined hands were on Padre Pio’s legs, and he kindly looked at us, smiling. I was surrounded by a beautiful floral scent, similar to a dense scented fog. It was an indescribable moment. I told him, ‘Father, we are on our honeymoon. We ask you for your blessing, both for us and for our families at home.’ He opened his arms and looked up to the sky. ‘Congratulations! May God help you with your new family. May he grant you several children.’ His words, his deep voice, the sweetness of his tone: I can still feel all of it if I think about it, even now.

“Then, Padre Pio put his hands on our heads, and that was the most significant moment. I can’t tell you the happiness I felt at that time; it is impossible to describe it. It was not an earthly happiness, but it was rather coming from heaven, I am sure. It was too uplifting. He gave us his hand so that we could kiss it. I gently took it between my hands, and I noticed that there was a hole on its back, where the bones were supposed to be. The glove that covered his hand was so thin that I could easily see the wound beneath it. I kissed his hand twice. I was holding it, and it took me a while before sharing it with my husband. As I said, it was an amazing experience. Unforgettable.

“Our life together began, and it was not easy. My husband was not doing well. During the Second World War, he had been a prisoner of war in Germany, an experience that had deeply affected him. Matteo was suffering from a severe depression, but it was not considered an illness back then. Doctors did not know how to handle it. He was depressed, and I was pregnant with our fourth child. We were poor, but I still trusted God. That is why I often used to sing: to distract Matteo from his gloomy thoughts and to share my good mood with the children. However, we are weak creatures, and we easily fall apart. One night indeed, I was too discouraged, and I burst into tears. But suddenly, something occurred to me. I remembered that Padre Pio had told his spiritual children to send their guardian angel to him when they were scared. I decided to do it. I went to my bedroom, and I started praying, ‘My Guardian Angel, go visit Padre Pio. Ask him if he can heal my husband and if he can find us a job. Please, ask him also to help me with my pregnancy.’

“Three days later the postman came by with a letter for me from San Giovanni Rotondo. It was strange because I did not know anyone from there, so nobody could have my address. I opened it. It was handwritten by Angelo Battisti, the administrator of the hospital Casa Sollievo della Sofferenza. It was the answer to my prayers. He wrote, ‘Dear Mrs., Padre Pio asked me to inform you that he will pray for you, for your husband’s health, and for the finances of your family. He sends you his blessings.’ In a short time, our lives changed. My husband got better, and soon after that, an unexpected job improved our family’s situation. However, I still had to deal with my difficult pregnancy. The doctors thought I would not be able to give birth. But one night I had a dream. There was a friar with his brown tunic, and a voice told me, ‘You are suffering, but do not worry. You will have a good son, who will travel around the world.’ A few days later, Stefano was born. He is a famous musician now, he constantly travels around the world, as I was told in my dream. Every day he brings the beauty of music somewhere.

“This is my story. The least I could do to reciprocate Padre Pio’s loving presence was to take the pilgrims to him. I keep doing it. It is tiring but I am happy. I know he is happy, too. Five years ago, I led a group of pilgrims with more than a hundred people. When we left the cathedral in San Giovanni Rotondo, I saw a friar among the crowd. It was Padre Pio! I immediately recognized him because of his beard, his cowl, and his slow pace. I followed him and stopped in front of him. I cried out, ‘You are Padre Pio!’ He did not deny it. With his hand, he made the sign of the cross and answered, ‘God bless you!’”