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America Needs Fatima (ANF) is The American TFP's special campaign to spread the Fatima message in the United States. The goal of America Needs Fatima is to win the heart and soul of America for Mary by spreading Our Lady's Fatima message and promoting devotion to Her Immaculate Heart.

America urgently needs the prophetic messages of Our Lady at Fatima. Above all, America needs a clear direction, a great purpose, and the means to achieve it. The admonitions, requests, and warnings of Mary Most Holy can rightly be called a heaven-sent survival manual.

What people say. . .

America Needs Fatima has definitely had a positive effect on my life. The Public Square Rosary Crusade, the various campaigns against blasphemy and the Saint Joseph Caravan for Traditional Marriage have inspired me to share, defend and love my Faith in a new way. On May 13, I will be making my Confirmation as an eighth grader in my parish. Could you please pray for me that I may become mature and courageous in my Catholic Faith? Thank you again for your wonderful example."

M.O., Pennsauken, N.J

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Free Devotional Items

Free Rosary Guide Booklet

Do you need the power of the Rosary in your life?

Sister Lucia, the eldest seer of Fatima, said that in these times the Blessed Mother has granted even greater power to the Rosary.

She said, “there is no problem, however difficult, whether temporal or spiritual; no problem in the life of families, Religious Communities, or the life of nations, that cannot be solved by the Rosary.”  Pray the Rosary and help propagate it.

“If you desire peace in your hearts, in your homes, and in your country, assemble each evening to recite the Rosary. Let not even one day pass without saying it, no matter how burdened you may be with many cares and labors.” Pope Pius XI

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Free Our Lady of Sorrows Prayer Card

The prayers to Our Lady of Sorrows are a beautiful devotion passed on to us by Saint Bridget.

They will help you receive 7 magnificent graces the Blessed Virgin Mary grants to souls who say 7 Hail Marys and meditate on Her sorrows. 

Our Lady’s words, “…those who propagate this devotion to my tears and sorrows will be taken directly from this earthly life to eternal happiness since all their sins will be forgiven and my Son will be their eternal consolation and joy.”

To order your Our Lady of Sorrows prayer card click on image

Free copy of Meet the Witnesses

Meet the Witnesses of the Miracle of the Sun 

Collectors Edition of the most gripping account ever written about the Fatima miracle of the sun. This book about the Miracle of the Sun offers the events of October 13, 1917 with the freshness of a news report based on personal stories of people who actually saw the Fatima miracle.

This is not a book on theology. Neither is it a romance. But it holds your attention like a novel.

We guarantee that once you start reading this book, you won’t be able to put it down.

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Send a White Rose To Fatima in Portugal

 

Send your rose to Our Lady

Your White Rose will be taken to Our Lady of Fatima in Portugal. It's part of a huge bouquet of roses we take to Fatima every year on October 13, the anniversary of the Miracle of the Sun. To send your rose click on image

 

Miraculous Medal and Novena

 

 Miraculous Medal and Novena

In 1830, Our Lady appeared to St. Catherine Labouré and entrusted her with the mission to have the Miraculous medal made. She promised, "All who wear it will receive great graces; they should wear it around the neck. Graces will abound for persons who wear it with confidence."

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Free Novena to the Sacred Heart of Jesus

 
 

Novena to the Sacred Heart of Jesus

Who should say this novena? 

Even Saint Pio of Pietrelcina used to say it every day!

It is called the Irresistible Novena because it is so effective in getting results – graces and answers to hard problems. And always through the intercession of the Blessed Virgin Mary.

Most importantly, by saying this novena, you will gladden the Sacred Heart of Jesus!

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Free 8X10 Picture of Our Lady of Fatima

 

Free 8x10 Picture of Our Lady of Fatima

“Mary In Every Home” is ANF’s longest-running campaign. To date, more than 10,000,000 pictures of Our Lady of Fatima have been distributed to American homes. Order your free copy today and display it in a prominent location in your home. 

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Free Meditation Booklet

 

“Be Still, and Know That I Am God”

“At times, we are tired, burdened with problems, discouraged, lacking energy even for words. No matter. Just be still and know that He is God. One adorer said that sitting in His Divine Presence is like getting ‘radiation therapy.’Solely for our willingness to be with Him, His Divine Presence emits healing rays.” To order click on image

Complimentary Photo of Our Lady in Tears

Order your free  Photo of Our Lady in Tears  

The picture that shook the world! 

This rare photo will be a silent reminder in your home that the miraculous International Pilgrim Virgin Statue cried 14 times in New Orleans in 1972...

Yes! Our Lady’s picture changes lives – and as you look at this rare photo, I think you will agree it’s the sorrow of Her gaze that moves souls.  

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DAILY QUOTE for July 24, 2016

When you are sick, offer to Christ our Lord all your pains,...

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July 24

 

When you are sick, offer to Christ our Lord
all your pains, suffering, and your languor, and beseech Him
to unite them to those He bore for you.

St. Francis de Sales


"Who shall rise up for Me against the evildoers?" – Psalms 93:16

SAINT OF THE DAY

St. Sharbel Makhlouf

Multiple times, he successfully lit an oil lamp which was fi...

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St. Sharbel Makhlouf

Youssef Antoun Makhlouf was born in the village of Bekka Kafra in Lebanon on May 8, 1828 and was one of five children born to Antoun Zarrour Makhlouf and Brigitta Chidiac. His father was a mule driver who died when Youssef was only three years old, leaving his widow to bring up their children alone.

Although Brigitta was left nearly destitute, she reserved a profoundly religious atmosphere in their home and instilled in her children a deep spirit of piety. Because of this fidelity, Youssef became unusually devoted and inclined to prayer and solitude at a very young age. He was greatly attracted to the life and spirituality of hermits; and as a young boy tending his family’s small flock, he would often go to a nearby grotto where he had erected a little shrine to the Holy Mother of God and would spend his whole day there in prayer.

When he was twenty-three years old, Youssef, feeling the call to the religious life, left his home and family to join the Lebanese Maronite Order at the Monastery of Our Lady in Marfouq. Here he began his formation as a monk before later being transferred to the Monastery of St. Maron near Beirut. There he received the religious habit of the Maronite monk and took the name Sharbel. He made his final profession as a religious brother on November 1, 1853 – he was twenty-five years old.

Brother Sharbel immediately began his studies for the priesthood under the instruction of Father Nimattullah Kassab, who was also later declared a saint by the Church. Sharbel was ordained on July 23, 1859, following which he returned to the Monastery of St. Maron where he lived a life of great austerity. In 1875, he was granted permission by his superiors to live a solitary life in the Hermitage of Sts. Peter and Paul, which was under the jurisdiction of the monastery; and there he resided for the remaining twenty-three years of his life until his death on Christmas Eve, 1898.

St. Sharbel is renowned for his many miracles both during his life and after his death. His most famous miracle – which was also his first – occurred when, multiple times, he successfully lit an oil lamp which was filled with water. He is also credited with many healing miracles.

After his death, he was interned at the Monastery of St. Maron, now a famous pilgrimage site. His tomb was often witnessed surrounded by a dazzling light, and to this day his remains are incorrupt and an unexplainable blood-like fluid flows from his body. He was canonized on December 9, 1977, by Pope Paul VI, who held him up as an example to help us understand “in a world, largely fascinated by wealth and comfort, the paramount value of poverty, penance and asceticism, to liberate the soul in its ascent to God.”

WEEKLY STORY

The Legend of the Locket

I was in my first sleep when the sound of the doorbell...

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The Legend of the Locket

I was in my first sleep when the sound of the doorbell awakened me, whereupon I sprang from my bed, and, after a few hurried preparations, hastened to throw open the door. 

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It was a bitter cold night in January, and the moon without threw its pale light over the wan spectral snow-covered landscape. The sharp gust that swept into the hall as I opened the door made me pity the delicate-looking child who stood at the threshold.

Her hair gleamed with a strange and rare effect in the moonlight, long golden hair that fell in graceful ripples about her shoulders. She was lightly dressed, this little child, as she stood gazing straight and frankly into my eyes with an expression at once so beautiful and calm and earnest that I shall never forget it.

Her face was very pale, her complexion of the fairest. The radiancy about her hair seemed to glow in some weird yet indescribable fashion upon her every feature. These details I had not fairly taken in when she addressed me.

"Father, can you come with me at once? My mother is dying, and she is in trouble."

"Come inside, my little girl," I said, "and warm yourself. You must be half frozen."

"Indeed, Father, I am not in the least cold." I had thrown on my coat and hat as she made answer.

"Your mother's name, my child?"

"Catherine Morgan, Father; she's a widow, and has lived like a saint. And now that she's dying, she is in awful trouble. She was taken sick about a few hours ago."

"Where does she live?"

"Two miles from here, Father, on the border of the Great Swamp; she is a stranger in these parts, and alone. I know the way perfectly; you need not be afraid of getting lost."

A few minutes later we were tramping through the snow, or rather I was tramping, for the child beside me moved with so light and tender a step, that had there been flowers instead of snowflakes beneath our feet I do not think a single petal would have been crushed under the airy fall of her fairy feet.

Her hand was in mine with the confiding clasp of childhood. Her face, for all the trouble that was at home, wore a gravely serene air, such as is seldom seen in years of sprightly, youthful innocence.

How beautiful she looked!

More like a creature fresh from the perfect handiwork of God than one who walked in the valley of sin, sorrow, trouble and death.

Locket Upon her bosom I observed a golden locket fashioned in a heart shape.

She noticed my glance, and with a quick movement of her fingers released the locket and handed it to me.

"It's a heart," I said.

"Read what's on it, Father."

"I can't, my little friend; my eyes are very good, but are not equal to making out reading on gold lockets by moonlight."

"Just let me hold it for you, Father. Now look."

How this child contrived, I cannot say; but certain it is, that at once, as she held the locket at a certain angle, there stood out clearly, embossed upon its surface, the legend: 

"Cease! the Heart of Jesus is with me." 

"Mamma placed that upon my bosom one year ago, when I was very sick, Father." And kissing the locket, the child restored it to its place.

We went on for a time in silence. I carried the Blessed Sacrament with me; and, young as she was, the girl seemed to appreciate the fact. Whenever I glanced at her, I observed her lips moving as in prayer, and her eyes seemed, in very truth, fixed upon the place where rested in His sacramental veil the Master of Life and of Death.

Suddenly the girl's hand touched my sleeve-oh, so gently!

"This is the place, Father," she said in soft tones that thrilled me as they broke upon the stillness; and she pointed to a little hut standing back in the dim shadows of three pine trees.

I pushed open the door, which hung loosely upon its hinges, and turned to wait her entrance. She was gone. Somewhat startled, I was peering out into the pallid night, when a groan called me to the bedside of the dying woman.

A glance told me there was no time to lose. The woman lying in that room had hardly reached middle life, but the hand of Death had touched her brow, upon which stood the drops of sweat, and in her face I read a great trouble.

I was at her side in an instant; and, God be thanked for it, soon calmed and quieted the poor creature. She made her confession, and in sentiments of faith and love such as I have rarely seen, received the Last Sacraments of the Church.

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Standing beside her, I suggested those little prayers and devices so sweet and consoling at the dread hour. I noticed, as the time passed on, that her eyes frequently turned toward a little box at the farther end of the room.

"Shall I bring you that box?" I asked.

She nodded assent.

On placing it beside her, she opened it with trembling hands and took out the dress of a child.

"Your little daughter's dress?" I said.

She whispered, and there was love in her tones: "My darling Edith's."

"I know her," I continued. "She brought me here, you know."

I stopped short and caught my breath. The woman half rose in her bed; she looked at me in wonder that cannot be expressed. I, no less amazed, was staring at a golden, oval locket fastened to the bosom of the child's dress which the woman was holding in her hands.

"Madam," I cried, "in the name of God, tell me, where is your daughter? Whose is that locket?"

"The locket is Edith's. I placed it here on the bosom of her dress when my little girl lay dying a year ago. The last thing my darling did was to hold this locket to her lips, and say:

'Cease! the Heart of Jesus is with me.'

"She died a year ago."

Then the mother's face grew very sweet and very radiant.

Still holding the locket in her hands, she fixed her eyes straight before her.

"Edith, my dear Edith, we are at last to be united in the Sacred Heart. I see you, my darling: ‘Cease! the Heart of Jesus is with me."'

Her voice faded with the last syllable into silence.

She and Edith were again united.

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From Fr. Finn's Mostly Boys (New York: 1896), pp. 90-95.
Illustrations by: AF Phillips

 

I was in my first sleep when the sound of the doorbell

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