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| 玄奇世界＞小玄思見＞小玄說小故事＞The Shelter Beneath the Pillar |
The Shelter Beneath the Pillar
中文版 / Español / English
小玄 (Xiao Xuan)
The inspiration for this story came to me on the evening of August 2, 2025, when a name suddenly popped into my mind: "Pilar." |
🕊️ Under the Shadow of the Pillar
(or: The Shelter Beneath the Pillar)
______
In a mountain town near the Spanish border, autumn had already brought with it the chill of the coming winter. The streets were narrow, the cobblestones worn smooth by time, and Pilar walked slowly, carrying her daughter Carmen on her back as they made their way back to their small apartment atop the old town district.
Carmen was only eight years old—a time when children should be running and laughing—but a rare immune system disorder kept her confined to her bed most of the time, gazing out the window toward the small church nearby and the statue of the Virgin that crowned its tower. The statue was a replica of the Virgen del Pilar of Zaragoza: the Mother of God, standing atop a pillar, looking with tenderness and strength upon those who venerated her.
Pilar was just over thirty years old, and her face already bore fine lines—the marks of sleepless nights and worries that never seemed to leave her side. Her husband had left when she was six months pregnant, leaving her to face everything on her own. Medical bills were an endless abyss, and her part-time job as a cleaner didn’t bring in enough to make ends meet. But she never let her vulnerability show in front of Carmen.
“Mommy,” Carmen said softly, clutching at Pilar’s dress, “I dreamed about the lady on the pillar. She smiled at me.”
Pilar sat down on the edge of the bed beside her and gently stroked her daughter’s forehead.
“That’s the Virgin Mary. She loves you very much, and she’s always watching over us.”
“Will she make me feel better?”
Pilar was silent for a moment, then leaned down and kissed Carmen’s forehead.
“She may not be able to take the pain away, but she can give us the strength to face everything. Just like when she appeared atop the pillar, so that people would have something to hold on to.”
______
🕯️ A Light and a Wish
That night, Pilar had a dream.
She stood in an ancient square, silent and still, with a great column rising in its center.
Atop the column stood a woman dressed in blue, holding a lily, her expression serene yet resolute. Her gaze seemed to pierce through the veil of the world.
“Who are you?” Pilar asked.
“I am the guardian of the pillar,” the woman replied, her voice soft as water flowing over stone. “I am also a mother, and I know what it is to grieve and to persevere.”
“My daughter is sick. I don’t know what to do… I can’t go on anymore,” Pilar said, her voice trembling.
The woman descended slowly from the column, and with each step, the ground seemed to glow faintly with light. She didn’t offer easy answers, but instead placed her hand on Pilar’s shoulder. The touch was warm, deep, as if it reached into her very soul.
“You have already done more than you realize. True strength is not in never falling, but in rising again and again for those you love.”
Then she placed a small white flower in Pilar’s palm.
“Keep it. It will remind you that you are never alone.”
______
🌿 Return and Perseverance
Pilar woke with tears on her face, though not from sadness. On her pillow she found a crumpled note—written in Carmen’s shaky hand before she had fallen asleep.
“Mommy, I love you. I think I’m going to get better.”
She hugged her tightly, and for the first time in a long while, she didn’t feel despair.
From then on, Pilar continued her daily rounds cleaning other people’s homes, while keeping their little apartment clean and warm. She learned to ask for help at the parish, and little by little, neighbors began to lend a hand. When she took Carmen for walks in the plaza, she would look up at the church tower and the statue of the Virgin, and whisper silently:
“Thank you for being here. You are our pillar.”
______
🩺 The Doctor’s Words (New Paragraph / The Doctor’s Encouragement)
One day, after a routine checkup, the doctor stopped her just as she was about to leave. She flipped through Carmen’s medical file, hesitated for a moment, and finally set her pen down on the desk.
“Pilar,” she said, her tone gentler than usual, “Carmen hasn’t gotten worse, has she?”
Pilar shook her head, twisting the edge of her apron between her fingers.
The doctor looked into her tired but determined eyes and asked, “Do you remember how Carmen reacted when she first came here? She was scared, hiding behind you… until I covered her with a blanket and she finally reached out her little hand for me to take her temperature.”
Pilar smiled faintly.
“Yes… and you tucked the blanket around her shoulders really well.”
The doctor’s voice softened further.
“That day, I knew this little girl would be alright. Because she has you.”
Pilar looked down and nodded, a small smile on her lips. Her eyes were glistening.
“But sometimes… I don’t know how much longer I can keep going.”
“You’ve already gone far beyond what most people could endure,” the doctor said, closing the file. “Sometimes, we doctors get so focused on tests and medications that we forget to remind families of one thing: your strength, your love, your presence—those things are medicine in themselves.”
She paused, then added with quiet sincerity:
“Carmen doesn’t just need medicine. She needs your stability, your affection… and the faith that you believe she will get better.”
Pilar felt a lump rise in her throat. She only nodded.
“You never complain,” the doctor said, looking at her intently. “That’s not because you’re indifferent. It’s because you love so deeply that you’ve chosen to carry everything on your shoulders. But remember—you deserve to be cared for too.”
______
🌟 Epilogue
One spring morning, Carmen’s condition stabilized. The doctor called it a spontaneous remission of the immune system, but Pilar knew it was more than just medicine.
She took Carmen to the plaza and together they placed a bouquet of flowers at the base of the Virgin’s statue.
“Did you see her?” Carmen asked, looking up.
Pilar smiled and gazed at the figure of the Virgin atop the pillar.
“Yes,” she said softly. “She told me that as long as we love each other, nothing can truly defeat us.”
The column stood silent. The leaves rustled gently in the breeze, like a soft blessing.
