Blood. Panic. Fire. Fear. Death.
A church in Northern Ireland was bombed: on Sunday, minutes before 8:00 Mass. The guilty were the Red Brigades, in protest against the visit of an Archbishop. Inside the church were men, women, and children; all dead, buried under the mountains of stone. It seemed that any hope for survivors was lost. As the community collected the dead, they found three friezes still standing: Saint Michael the Archangel, Saint Gabriel, and Saint Raphael. Inside the frieze of Saint Michael laid two children: a boy and a girl. They appeared to be in a peaceful sleep. The discovery was marveled by the community. How could anyone – let alone two children – survive the attack? They did not ponder on this thought long; they began to pray. If these two children were the sole survivors, then their family were dead.
When Archbishop Celestine heard of the bombing, his heart filled with sorrow. He prayed for the lives that were lost and the families left behind. Minutes later, he learned of the two child survivors. He became overjoyed and praised God, but grew worried. He knew that the children were now orphans. He felt guilty; he knew he was the reason for the horrific event. He prayed for guidance, and decided to adopt the two children. He would raise them as his own in Vatican City…
My name is Renee' McKenna. My brother, Patrick, and I were the sole survivors of the church bombing. We were both nine years old. Our mother, Maria, was killed in the attack. We were not told until we were adopted by the visiting Archbishop later that day. Patrick cried throughout the night while my tears fell silently. The next day, we left for Vatican City – our new home.
As we grew older, we were raised by the Church. We became familiar with the rituals and traditions. We also got to know all of the Cardinals and Swiss Guards, although they never really had a conversation with us.
At sixteen, we felt obligated to do our military service. The Archbishop understood, and he gave us some advice: he told Patrick "learn to fly" and me "to care for others". Patrick became a helicopter pilot, and I became a nurse. We served two years before joining the Seminary. After leaving, Patrick was ordained as a priest and I was ordained as a nun. A few months later, our father, Archbishop Celestine, became Pope. We were ecstatic for our father, but then he asked us to be his Camerlenghi (plural for Camerlengo). We were stunned: no Pope has ever had two Camerlenghi; regardless, we said "yes". It was rough the first few days, but Patrick and I figured out a system that worked for both of us. Every day was different, but we were working with our father, and we couldn't ask for anything more.