When I think about all the graces Our Lord granted through Padre Pio’s intercession, there is one story that shines above the rest. Truly, it is his miracle, one that began even before he was ordained, and one that shows how deeply the Blessed Mother entrusted souls into his care.
It was January 18, 1905. Padre Pio was not yet a priest, not yet the renowned friar with the stigmata and countless spiritual children.
He was only a young Capuchin seminarian, Fra Pio, quiet, studious, faithful in prayer. That evening, he was kneeling in the monastery choir alongside Brother Anastasio. It was close to 11:00; the monastery hushed in silence.
Then, without warning, the young friar was carried up in spirit, transported far from the stone walls around him.
He later described the experience in simple words: He found himself in the palace of a wealthy family, where the master of the house lay dying as his wife labored to bring forth a child. In that vision, the Blessed Mother herself appeared before him.
“She radiated a light more tender than dawn, more powerful than the sun.”
With maternal gentleness, the Blessed Mother turned to Fra Pio and entrusted him with a mission that would last a lifetime.
“My son,” she said, “I entrust this unborn child to your care. She will one day be a precious jewel, but right now she has no form. Shape and polish her. Make her as brilliant as you can, because one day I would like to have her in My court in heaven.”
The Blessed Mother’s answer was firm, yet full of tenderness:
“Do not doubt me. She will come to you. But first, you will meet her in the Basilica of Saint Peter in Rome.”
In the next instant, Fra Pio was once again in the choir stall, his hands folded in prayer, as if nothing had happened. Yet everything had changed.
That very night, in the northern city of Udine, Giovanna Rizzani was born.
Her entry into the world was marked by drama and sorrow. Her father, a wealthy Mason, lay upstairs at death’s door. Her mother, Leonilde, gave birth prematurely in the palace garden, aided only by the steward. But Heaven intervened: A priest was permitted to baptize the fragile infant. In reality, he heard the Confession of Giovanna’s father, who died reconciled with God.
Thus, both birth and death were intertwined in that moment, and Heaven had already written Giovanna’s life into the story of Padre Pio.
The following year, in 1923, Giovanna traveled with her aunt to San Giovanni Rotondo, the remote mountain town where Padre Pio lived.
The monastery corridor was crowded with pilgrims when suddenly Padre Pio stopped. His penetrating gaze fell upon Giovanna. With words that struck her like lightning, he said:
“I know you. You were born the day your father died.”
The next morning, she went to Confession. Before she could speak, Padre Pio greeted her tenderly: “My daughter, finally you have come! I have been waiting for you so many years.”
“But Father,” she whispered, “this is the first time I have ever met you.”
He smiled gently.
“No, my child, I know you well. Do you not remember last summer in St. Peter’s Basilica? You came searching for a confessor, and I heard your confession. That was me.”
Then he revealed the secret of the Blessed Mother’s words:
“Before you were born, Our Lady brought me to your home. I witnessed your father’s death. She entrusted you to me. You are my responsibility.”
From that day on, Giovanna became one of his most faithful spiritual daughters.
Later, Padre Pio invested her in the Third Order of St. Francis. To her surprise, he chose for her the name Jacopa.
Padre Pio shook his head.
“No. You will be Jacopa. Just as Jacopa de Settesoli was at the side of St. Francis when he died, so too will you be present at my death.”
Years passed. Giovanna, now Sr. Jacopa, remained steadfast under Padre Pio’s direction. Near the end of his life, he spoke to her with urgency.
“Come soon to San Giovanni Rotondo, for I am going away. If you delay, you will not find me.”
On September 23, 1968, as Padre Pio entered eternal life, Sr. Jacopa experienced a vision.
She was transported mystically to his cell. She saw the friars around his bed. She witnessed the exact moment of his passing, though she had never entered his room before. Later, she described every detail, the arrangement of the room, the faces of those present. All was confirmed true.
Just as Padre Pio had foretold, she was indeed at his side when he died.
For me, this miracle is the most beautiful of all. It was not a single dramatic healing, nor an isolated grace. It was the story of a soul guided from birth to death under the mantle of Our Lady and the hand of Padre Pio.
From the night Giovanna was born to the moment Padre Pio breathed his last, their lives were bound together in a mystery of mercy. He shaped her as Our Lady requested, and she, in turn, stood as witness to the sanctity of his mission.
When I reflect on this, I cannot help but whisper with reverence: This truly was Padre Pio’s miracle.