I had embarked on a new chapter in my life and, in all important journeys, one needs a good guide. Lalage asked me to come with her to Oxford to see a priest called Father Michael Hollings who was her confessor. He was an ex-military man, Brigade of Guards who had been highly decorated for his bravery during the war but had eventually become a priest. He had spent some weeks on private retreat with Padre Pio who used to call him ‘Il mio Michelino’ (my little Michael). Many people from all walks of life, came to see him for counselling. He was totally non-partial. Whether it was a student at the Chapliancy or Mother Theresa, who regularly came to see him when she was in London, they would be treated with equal urgency. Both would be kept waiting if there was someone in more need.
This was a man I could relate to. He became my friend and counsellor for the rest of my life, or at least, till his death in 1997.
As well as the Lord’s hand, His servant, Padre Pio’s hand was becoming more obvious in my journey. I later found out that even Mr. Evans, the Harley Street specialist who told me to mend my ways when I visited him with my mother, was connected to Padre Pio. He is mentioned in a book as his favourite English doctor.
It was around this time that Padre Pio stepped into my life, and my dreams, in a more prophetic way. Although I did not know it at the time, this dream pointed to a time which would be important to me in the future.
In my dream, I was standing by the side of a bridge. Across it was a high mountain covered in trees and bushes. I could see a group of monks walking calmly across the bridge they appeared to be in no hurry as they enjoyed the tranquility of their walk.
I watched fascinated as they crossed to my end where there was a gravel road, The monk leading the group came towards me and bent down to pick a little white flower growing on the side near me.
He looked at me intently and gave me the flower then turned and walked on to join the rest down the road.
My understanding was that the littlest things in life are so very precious. I could also sense a concern and love from this unknown monk who lived the gospel. I believe it was Padre Pio at the age of thirty. The significance of the bridge, the hill and the gravel path would only become clear to me many, many years later.
Meanwhile, Father Michael gave me sure and honest direction. He never waffled or wasted words. He was direct and to the point and refreshingly easy to understand.
He was often asked to be a speaker at charity raising events. On one occasion, Lalage came to me and asked if I minded going to a one of these charity luncheons which was being held at the Guildhall in London. She was unable to be there herself and felt that neither her ticket nor the meal should be wasted. I was in two minds about going since I was acutely aware that I would not be suitably dressed for the occasion. My job at the Army & Navy Department Store Accounts Department barely paid me enough money to survive let alone buy an expensive outfit. Rather reluctantly I went dressed in my one remaining pin stripe suit, while aware that the soles of my shoes were falling to pieces.
As expected, the place was beautifully elegant and everything was set out for a splendid meal to which a hundred or more had been invited. Father Michael Hollings addressed the guests. It seems the meal was organised to raise money for the chaplaincy at Oxford. Father Michael thanked Princess Lee Radziwill and the guests and said, “I have often made appeals for charity, this time I’m not asking for hundreds but thousands” He mentioned the fact that cheques would be welcome. It seems, as one, the guests responded and many signed away varying sums of money.
I felt more than inadequate but calmly savoured every moment of the meal and felt grateful for the enjoyable interlude.
When it was over, Fr. Michael stood at the door thanking everyone for their generosity and I was one of the very last to leave. I instantly blurted out my apologies to Michael as I felt guilty about having had nothing to give.
He smiled, looked at me and as I walked away, said, “Don’t worry, one day you will do more for me than anyone here.”
In what way, I am supposed to do that, only God knows but I do hope it was the Lord who said it and I would be only too glad to see it coming about.