That night, Juan Diego’s uncle, Juan Bernardino, contracted a terrible fever. As the hours dragged on, it only worsened. “Everyone who has caught this illness has died!” Juan Diego’s neighbors warned him.
By morning, Juan could see that his uncle was dying. Among the Indians, the authority of an uncle was the same as that of a parent. And Juan Diego especially loved this uncle who had raised him. “Please ...Juan...bring me a priest...” the old man gasped. “I wish...to receive...the...sacraments.”
Juan rushed out of the house. As much as it pains me, he thought, I have to avoid the path where I’ve been seeing the Blessed Virgin Mary. I can’t stop to see her now! Juan skirted around Tepeyac Hill by another route.
“Juantzin!” (HWAN-tzin) he suddenly heard. “Juantzin!” Juan cringed in embarrassment. Wrapped in light, the Mother of God was descending from the top of the hill. “Where are you going, my little son? And what road is this you are taking?” she asked with an understanding smile.
Juan had been caught. He didn’t know what to say, so he tried to make small talk. “My beloved Daughter, and my Lady, God keep you! Did you sleep well? How are you feeling today?” But looking into those beautiful eyes that saw all, Juan quickly changed his tone. “Please don’t be angry with what I have to say,” he continued. “My uncle, a servant of yours, is dying. I’m hurrying to call a priest for him. As soon as I’ve done this, I will come back to see you. Forgive me, my Lady,” he pleaded. “Have patience with me. I promise that I will come back to see you tomorrow.”
Mary listened serenely. Then, with more compassion than ever, she said, “Listen, my son, to what I tell you now. Do not be troubled, or disturbed by anything. Do not be afraid of illness, or suffering, or pain. Don’t you know that I will protect you? Don’t you remember that I am your Mother? Do you need anything else? Don’t worry. Your uncle is already cured.”
Juan Diego experienced a great feeling of relief. He was sure that what our Lady said was true. “Then I will go on your errand right now,” he eagerly replied.
“Go, my son, to the top of the hill where you first saw me. There you will find many flowers. Gather them and bring them to me.”
Even though it was December and very cold, even though no flowers grew on that barren hill, and even though he had been there only the day before and had not seen any flowers, Juan did not doubt the Blessed Mother’s word. He climbed the bleak hill. When he reached the top, he gasped in amazement. He was surrounded by the most beautiful flowers he had ever seen, their perfect petals trembling in the breeze that comes with the sunrise. Such roses, and in every color! With each breath, Juan drew in their heavenly fragrance. As he stooped to pluck each rose, he was struck by its perfection and loveliness.
In the ancient style of country people who use aprons, hats or shoes for carrying things, Juan Diego made a “basket” of his cloak, his tilma, tucking the delicate blossoms into its hollow.
He excitedly carried the flowers to Mary. The Mother of God then rearranged them with her own hands! “My little son,” she said as she worked, “these roses are the sign which you are to take to the bishop. Tell him, in my name, that he must do what I ask.” Our Lady looked into Juan’s eyes and smiled. “You will be my ambassador. I trust you. Don’t show what you are carrying to anyone but the bishop. Tell him everything. Say that I ordered you to go to the top of the hill and that you found these roses there. Explain everything so that the bishop will give his help and the church I ask for may be built.”
“Take these roses to the bishop.”
Juan didn’t want to leave Mary, but now that he had the sign, the proof that she had really appeared to him, he was anxious to see the bishop. He hurried off to Mexico City, his heart throbbing with excitement.
The doorkeepers at the bishop’s gate were getting annoyed. “When will he stop pestering the bishop?” one grumbled when he saw Juan coming up the path. “You can’t go in,” they told Juan roughly. But when they saw that he was carrying something, the Spaniards insisted on taking a peek. Afraid that the men would send him away, Juan showed them a few of the flowers. They gasped at the sight of the Castilian roses. They had not seen these since they’d left their homeland! The doorkeepers reached into Juan’s tilma, trying to seize the roses, but their hands passed right through the flowers, as if through air! Bewildered, they rushed Juan Diego in to the bishop.
“I have the Lady’s sign!” Juan announced. He dropped the corners of his tilma and the miraculous flowers tumbled to the floor. The bishop stared, and then, overcome with awe, fell to his knees. Juan saw that Bishop Zumarraga was no longer looking at the roses. His tearful eyes were fixed on Juan Diego’s tilma. Looking down, Juan was astounded to see that there, in brilliant colors, was a magnificent picture of the Blessed Virgin Mary, just as she had appeared on Tepeyac Hill!
With trembling hands, Bishop Zumarraga untied Juan Diego’s tilma. He reverently carried it to his private chapel. The most fitting company for a portrait made by heaven, he thought, is Jesus himself, in the Blessed Sacrament. The bishop and the other members of his household knelt in the presence of the image and praised God for the gift of his Mother.
Bishop Zumarraga wanted Juan Diego to tell him every detail of the Lady’s appearance that day. Juan slept at the bishop’s house that night as an honored guest. The next day many people accompanied Juan and the bishop to the places where Mary had stood on Tepeyac Hill. The hilltop was brown and bare. There was not even a trace of a flower to be seen.
From the hill, Juan went to check on his uncle at their house in Tulpetlac. He found the villagers rejoicing. “While you were gone to get me a priest,” the old man told his nephew, “the Blessed Virgin Mary appeared to me. She cured me instantly! She wants a church built where you saw her. She said that the bishop would call her by the name the ‘ever-Virgin Holy Mary of Guadalupe.’”
The news that Mexico had received visits from the great Mother of God spread like wildfire.