Warsaw, October 2009

Adam Wiesław Nowosad:
son of Edward and Alexander.
Born on 25 March 1952,
residing in Warsaw.


And you answered with those words:
"Write down the vision, write it down on the boards,
So that they can be read easily.
This is a time-stamped vision,
but its fulfilment will inevitably take place;
And if it is delayed, you should expect it,
because in a short time it will come reliably."


Drawing the sign of the cross

In the name of the Father and the Son and the Holy Spirit.

At the age of 58, while maintaining the conviction of full mental power, I present a description of the "event" I have experienced in the past.

It was about 46 years ago when I was 9 - 11 years old. It was probably 1961, maybe 1963. It was probably a warm season.

At that time I lived in a family house - a forester's lodge in Międzybórz (located in Człuchów County in the former Koszalin Province, near the towns of Czarne and Rzeczenica).

My father, a wanderer expelled from his family estate in the Wołyń region (the Borderlands of the Republic of Poland), was a forester in the Rzeczenica forest inspectorate, Mom ran a house, while my brother and I attended a local primary school.

For the first Holy Communion, which I received in the local church, I was prepared by Fr Józef Andrzejewski. As an extremely "curious" boy, I asked him a huge number of questions about God. I remember that this priest, probably tired of my inquiries, advised me to pray more earnestly, or maybe God Himself will make my curiosity satisfied one day. My desire to learn about God was so overwhelming that I took this advice seriously and, as I was able to do at that time, I started to ask these questions to God in my prayers. I don't know why, but I was convinced that if God is there, one day I will find out.

I don't remember how long I waited, but in the end, one summer night I suppose, I experienced an unusual phenomenon:

It happened in the morning, I remember I could distinguish between the shapes of the furniture in the bedroom. I was awakened from my dream by a warm, masculine but clear voice. I heard that I would now see something that would happen in the future. This "voice" told me, like a narrator, explaining what was happening around me. What I saw then was extremely unreal. It was happening in some strange space, somewhere where there was no clear horizon or sense of time. But the world I was in was somehow recognizable, I saw houses, trees, people, and all this was dynamic. The colours were certainly unrealistic, everything around was somehow discoloured, extremely expressive in colour. I saw a city, I saw crowds of people, like a river of various characters, walking in one direction. The narrator assured me that what is happening now will be seen in reality one day. I heard that I would be here and participate in these events. He announced that I would meet some extraordinary man beforehand, that he would be "the greatest man of my time" and that everything I had ever been so interested in would become understandable to me at that time.

In front of my eyes, in a way around me, various scenes were moving one by one. The crowd of human figures was thickening, and suddenly I noticed that in the midst of that crowd, there is some open wooden box in the air. The crate was then placed on a simple "peasant" cart on a hill, which used to transport agricultural crops. Then I saw a human figure dressed in a white robe lying motionless in that box. All the time I heard unusual, beautiful music and choral songs. Around the "chest" there were countless crowds of people gathered - many in reverie, many crying. At one point, I was raised high up and saw the whole world as if there were people everywhere. I saw animals standing still and birds flying majestically. Below me, two white and red rays of light spread down to the ground, resembling expressive ribbons.

After a while, I found myself downstairs again, this time in the midst of a crowd. The people around me raised their hands and alternately knelt and lamented. Suddenly something happened that stunned me, and I was probably the only viewer of the phenomenon. I heard the loud sound of trumpets and at that moment the sky, between the two towers of the building in front of which all this happened, became white as snow, it looked like dense summer clouds. In one moment these clouds parted and an incredible, indescribable light was poured out from the opening into the world - light that made the whole world, which I saw from above again, become fabulously colourful and unbelievably beautiful. What I saw then was an absolutely extraordinary, delightful phenomenon in its beauty. The whole world was joyful and charmingly beautiful. It is impossible to describe this phenomenon with known words. Everything around was simply extraordinary.

From the open clouds, from the place from which the light was pouring out, changing the whole world, with the constant loud sound of trumpets, strange characters emerged. They were all white and had wings. Sort of floating in space, without moving the wings, they were majestically flowing down. They surrounded this "peasant" wagon, and then together with the box and the figure there, they lifted it up in the direction of the unusual light. At that time, the "voice" that accompanied me all the time said that the body of him who rests in the box, open at half his height so that I could see the whole figure, would be taken to heaven. That is what happened. It was accompanied by a multitude of angelic figures from the light. All this happened with the sound of "blue" trumpets and was extremely majestic. I watched the way of this figure towards the sky and to my great regret, the whole angelic conductor disappeared at some point in the thicket of closing clouds. For a moment, but I don't know for how long, everything around remained motionless. People stood there with their hands raised in a pleading gesture and soon, the trumpets sounded again. Again the clouds parted and again the whole world was flooded with light, which made it completely transformed. A huge human heart emerged from the clouds, this time with the assistance of angels - those who did not have the whole form, but only wings and faces and a part of the trunk. It had exactly the same shape as the heart known to me from the church votive paintings. Again, this extraordinary, heavenly music, accompanied by angelic choirs, was heard. This heart supported by several of these winged figures flowed down and as if hung between two trees, growing near the building with towers. Then the choirs calmed down, the trumpets played loudly once again and the sky closed. The world became gray again, but above the crowd between the two trees I saw a moving, living - swaying, or maybe pulsating heart. It was supported by the two winged ones, without the full human silhouette of angels. When the sky was closing, most of the characters assisting in this phenomenon, and the angelic choirs, returned there. Around the heart, apart from the two supporting ones, there are a few more of these unusual ones--"half angels.

This is what I kept in my memory, in general, from this extraordinary experience. When the projection of "seeing" unexpectedly disappeared, as it is in my nature, I asked the "narrator" a very specific question: how will I get to know this "greatest man of my time"? I had another astonishing feeling then. I heard the narrator say to me that now I will return to the real world and see the one who told me all this. I heard an assurance that I would not be afraid, that I would remain calm and that one day there would come a time when everything I have experienced would become understandable to me. I have learned that the man I have heard and seen taken to heaven will be recognized by his eyes, which will be the same as the ones I will see in a moment. Slowly the familiar contours of the bedroom furniture began to appear in front of me. I saw a smiling, slanting face above me. Then I saw very expressive, dark eyes with brightly lit pupils. This look was one of a kind. Never later, until one particular day, did I see such eyes. After a while, I saw clearly the whole silhouette of the one who had been talking to me all this time. It was a figure of an adult man. He was dressed in some strange clothes, like pajamas in blue stripes. This figure, leaning over my bed, stood up slowly and turned away, disappearing in the twilight of the waking day.

Then he overwhelmed me, some strange bliss, I felt an unusual peace and simply fell asleep in the world, waking up only late in the morning. After waking up, I asked a question, either to my brother or Father, whether he had seen the man who was here and spoke to me. Of course, I did not receive an answer and some time later I decided that all this must have been an extraordinary, fabulously colourful dream, that what I saw was apparently a product of my childhood imagination, awakened probably by an overwhelming desire to know the truth about the existence of God.

Since then I have not asked anyone any more questions whether God really exists. For some reason, perhaps not entirely rational, I became sure that I already knew everything I wanted to know. Years passed, I grew up, got married and had two small children. But in spite of all the sacraments, in my life I have acted in such a way that it inevitably led me to the wrong ways. Not that I had any conflicts with the law or with the Church - no, but I know that I was fascinated by a life that boiled down to a state of complacency. I had some successes with matsand thanks to the sense of entrepreneurship I thought I had, I became convinced that a prosperous and peaceful future awaited me. I didn't need God so much for my life plans.

But I thought back to what had happened to me that distant morning, but increasingly I made sure that it was an illusion. After all, I have never met anyone with eyes like the one I saw at that time. Actually, I guess I've even forgotten about the whole event, haven't I?

I stayed in such a state until one spring day in 1982. A friend called me then and after exchanging opinions it turned out that he was going to Żoliborz, to a priest he met during a strike. He decided to visit him because he heard that he was harassed by the Security Service and wants to ask him if there is anything he can do to help. He suggested that I go with him, and I agreed with such a reservation that I have no time for any political matters and I will go only out of curiosity. It seemed to me that what my friend is talking about cannot be true, that the times of such harassment of priests in Poland are over. I devoted half, maybe an hour or so of my time to this visit and with this my decision we went to a church that I had not known before, located near the square, then called the square of the Paris Commune. When we entered the courtyard leading to the parish house, we immediately noticed a smiling young priest waiting for us, so we came up to say hello.

It was then, after several dozen years, that I experienced a strange shock - a shock, which, as it turned out later, changed my further life! I was almost "shocked" by the unusual look that this priest gave me. Everything that was happening from that moment on was happening probably independently of my will. I was overwhelmed by the fact that I knew this man and these extraordinary eyes from somewhere.

It was Father Jerzy Popiełuszko.

Naturally, all my plans ceased to be important, I stayed there until late in the evening and for the following evenings, days and even nights, and so on for the following years until autumn 2004.

However, it is a story for a different circumstance. Today it seems important to explain that the process of associating and recognizing Father Jerzy's person with that man announced to me by the "figure" from my childhood lasted for many years.

During a priest's lifetime, when I had the opportunity to stay with him many times, to help him, to protect him and to support him in all ways, I was not entirely sure that he could be this man from the "vision". I gained such a conviction, I again fell into doubt. Finally, I decided to wait for a sign that would reassure me about the "prophecy" of this greatness and about my role in this place. It is also a long story. Meanwhile, nothing as spectacular as what happened to me in my childhood was happening, and I think I came to the conviction that during the life of our great compatriot, Pope John Paul II, no one else can appear who would deserve to be called the greatest man of my time (today I already know that this is about the greatest man of my generation). A breakthrough in this thinking occurred only after the martyrdom of Father Jerzy's death, already during his funeral!

Well, using the right to move around the whole area, at some point I climbed the tower of the church as high as possible. Then I saw the phenomenon once presented to me. I saw a multitude of people praying and many crying when they raised their hands to heaven. From the tower of the church, two white and red ribbons were flowing down towards the coffin.

I was then, almost certain, that it was Father Jerzy who was the greatest man of my time. Still, I didn't understand my relationship yet, neither with this fact, nor with this person. I also had no idea who such a person was and why he presented me with this extraordinary vision.

The process of understanding this phenomenon was extremely slow and gradual. First, I accidentally discovered who this "narrator" was, who moved me into the future when I was barely, maybe around 10 years old. I simply read one day in a book that Father Jerzy had an extraordinary, emotional connection with Maximilian Kolbe. When little Alek Popiełuszko was about seven or ten years old, as his mother recollects, he often prayed to Maximilian, building himself a special altar for this purpose (I remember when I was a child I had a similar habit of building such "altars"). During his lifetime, Father George often spoke about St. Maximilian, but I did not know that he was his patron. Reading about it in a book dedicated to the history of a priest, I experienced an equally shocking dazzle as when I first met a priest. I understood that St. Maximilian Kolbe was undoubtedly the one who announced this extraordinary meeting to me. I had not yet understood why Maximilian looked different from the saint, known from his numerous images. This However, this issue became clear to me when, while visiting the monastery in Niepokalanów, I found a little known picture, a photograph of Maximilian, on a stand with devotional items, without these characteristic glasses and in civilian clothes. In this photograph, without any doubt, I recognized the face I had seen with my own eyes, at the time when this, not yet holy Martyr, appeared to me the aforementioned night, during my childhood. I also understood this message, concerning the eyes by which I was to recognize the greatest man of my time. They were simply almost the same as Father Jerzy's eyes. Maybe not necessarily in terms of colour or frame, but it was the same expression of eyes, the same look that "shocked" me so much when I first met Father Jerzy. God gave me a talent for painting. I can remember and reproduce most of the pictures, faces and landscapes seen in the past without a shadow of doubt. I have the so-called "photographic" memory, sometimes I paint, or rather I used to paint from memory. Perhaps thanks to these talents, today I do not have any, but there is no doubt that St. Maximilian Maria Kolbe was the one who haunted me and presented the whole of this extraordinary vision described earlier. Dead then for a long time, killed by a shot in the heart - the Martyr from Oświęcim.

For a long time I thought that such a tangible, real encounter with him was improbable. I made sure that this was possible only after listening to a special broadcast on Radio Maryja, from which I learned that St. Maximilian's mother had described a similar phenomenon when Maximilian visited her shortly after he had been murdered. The Saint's mother was also convinced that she had seen him in all his real form.

Throughout all these years, since I became convinced that everything that had happened to me in the past during my childhood "vision" and everything that I had experienced while meeting Father George was true, I still did not know what I should do next.

When asked to bear witness in the process of the beatification of the Servant of God, Father George, I gave only a partial account of this extraordinary childhood experience. The requirement of discretion makes it impossible for me to develop the circumstances of this testimony. Certainly, however, there are a few sentences in the minutes suggesting that I had the impression that I had met Father George earlier than I did, because I felt familiar with his gaze, which I remembered from my childhood.

Over the years, I was tormented by the fear that if I began to publicize and insist that I had seen and heard St. Maximilian, who announced that Father George had been taken to heaven and that he was the greatest man of my time, it would be perceived as an emphasis on the Postulation of the Trial and a breach of its seriousness. On the other hand, having experienced a heavy operation that I almost paid for with my life and subsequent heart attacks, uncertain of my own fate, I threw out to myself that I would take to the grave something that had been entrusted to me, and that might be important for many people seeking support.

I decided to write down and make public this special testimony and all the related situations only in 2009, on the 25th anniversary of the Martyrdom of the Servant of God. At that time, I decided that I should not delay any longer.

Soon, however, it became clear that the process of beatification was accelerating, so I was again silent - and so I waited until a beautiful day - for the recognition of Father Jerzy as a Blessed. Now, free from fears that I would be accused of exerting pressure, and convinced that no one would accuse me of wanting to impute any particular merit to myself, I decided to publish this testimony.

I came to the conclusion that the proper addressee of the description of my childhood experience would be, perhaps, those who are heirs to the message of Maximilian Kolbe, the brothers of Niepokalanów. It seemed to me that they should be the first to learn that their founder, 46 years ago for some reason, decided that I would be the one who would probably be the first to learn that Father Jerzy Popiełuszko, Blessed today, would be taken to heaven during the funeral ceremony. That his heart will return to earth a moment later and will always, with the assistance of angels - pulsating and vigilant - remain near the place of rest of the Martyr's remains, waiting here for all those who, through the intercession of Blessed George, will want to ask God for the necessary graces.

P.S. May 2011.

It has been many months since I gave my testimony to the General of the monastery in Niepokalanów. Today I know that even there this testimony turns out to be useless. It is difficult, what can I do... I will remain convinced that St. Maximilian, who, by God's will, led all his life, Alk - Jerzy Popiełuszko, by giving me this vision, had a concrete goal.I will also tirelessly testify of the special relationship between the two saints. I believe that for many people my unwavering conviction that in this particular place - in Warsaw's Żoliborz, near the grave of the Blessed Martyr - awaits and will always wait for all those in need of support - His heart, which is still bustling with life.

With God

Adam Nowosad

Addendum: December 2018

Despite the fact that almost 10 years have passed since the publication of the above mentioned testimony, still many "scientists in writing" consider it useless. However, 6 years ago in Creteil, near Paris, a spectacular miracle of healing from cancer of a man in agonal condition took place. This was the basis for the successful canonization process of Blessed Jerzy Popiełuszko. The miracle documented in all instances took place shortly after a friend of his prayed at the grave of the Martyr for the intention of the patient. Readers of my testimony will surely notice the connection between this miracle and the vision that St. Maximilian Kolbe presented to me in his childhood. I would like to remind you that according to what I heard and saw then, it is near the tomb where the relics of the Martyr rest, pulsating and waiting for those in need, His living heart. Today I have little interest in the fact that neither theologians nor the Franciscans of Niepokalanów, the heirs of Fr Maximilian's spirituality, nor the Michalites who deal with the Angels, are interested in this testimony. In 2012, together with a group of Blessed George's worshippers, we founded a Mission dedicated to spreading his cult. We have also opened a special website with requests for the intercession of Blessed George. So far, we have noted thousands of intentions posted there by people who ask us to pray for them at the tomb of the Martyr. So there is a growing number of people for whom this testimony is becoming useful, more and more graces may appear - and only this is important....

(Ha-2-3;2,2-3. As an introduction...)

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