Mary Dempster Research Paper

Congregation for the causes of saints
Palazzo delle Congregazioni
00193 Roma
Piazza Pio XII
10

In today’s world, a saint is a very difficult thing to come across; however I believe to have found the perfect candidate for canonization. Her name is Mary Dempster. I believe that the miracles of this woman are real, and not just coincidental, due to her unstable state of mind. Mary was married to a Baptist Parson, named Amasa Dempster in a little village called Deptford. While Mary was carrying her unborn son in her womb, she was hit in the back of the head with a snowball concealing a fairly large rock. The impact of the hit had caused her to go to into labor. Both her and her premature son had fought for their lives. The result of the
Willie had been sick for quite some time, and it was my turn to watch and take care of him. When I went to go check on him, he was nonresponsive, had no detectable pulse, and when I held a mirror to his nose, the mirror did not fog with breath. Willie was dead. To this day, I still don’t know why my first impulse was to find Mary, but I did. I ran to her, and then with her across the entire village, and when we came back to the room, she simply said his name, stirred him a little, and he had awoken. Mary Dempster had awoken Willie from the dead. The final miracle performed by Mary Dempster is when she appeared to me in Passchendale during the time of the war. I was trapped behind enemy lines, and I was injured and could no longer move. There was a fireball coming at me, and I was sure that I was going to die. Before I became unconscious, the last thing that I saw was the face of Mary Dempster on the Madonna figure. Months later, I awoke in a care facility, and I was alive. I truly believe that it was mary Dempster who had saved me. At the end of this brief, I have included a picture of Willie during the war, as a soldier, proof he had not died at the age of 12. I have included a statement of the recollection of events of that night from Joel Sturgeoner, as well as the picture of the Madonna statue in Passchendale. It is my sincerest hope that you would consider Mary Dempster
I’d tumbled off the freight in the jungle by Deptford and found a fire and seven fellows around it, and they had stew – somebody’d got a rabbit and it was in a pail over the fire with some carrots. Ever eat that? It’s awful, but I wanted some, and after a lot of nastiness they said I could have some after they’d had what they wanted of me. My manhood just couldn’t stand it, and I left them. They laughed at me and said I’d be back when I got good and hungry. Then I met this woman, wandering by herself. I knew she was a town woman. Women tramps are very rare; too much sense, I guess. She was clean and looked like an angel to me, but I threatened her and asked her for money. She hadn’t any; then I grabbed her. She wasn’t much afraid and asked what I wanted. I told her in tramp’s language, and I could see she didn’t understand, but when I started to push her down and grab at her clothes she said, ‘Why are you so rough?’ and then I started to cry. She held my head to her breast and talked nicely to me, and I cried worse, but the strange thing is I still wanted her. As if only that would put me right, you see? That’s what I said to her. And do you know what she said? She said ‘You may if you promise not to be rough.’ So I did, and that was when you people came hunting her. When I look back now, it’s a wonder that it wasn’t all over with me that moment. But it wasn’t. No, it was glory come into my life. It was as if I had gone right into Hell