Natural disasters have a curious way of producing images that stay with us long after the headlines fade. Alongside the heartbreaking photographs of collapsed buildings and shattered lives, there are often quieter images that spread just as quickly: Bibles recovered from burned homes, crucifixes found intact among the rubble, or statues of Christ and the saints somehow still standing where almost everything else has fallen. For many believers, they become small but powerful reminders that hope can survive even the darkest moments.
As Venezuela and the world continue to mourn after the devastating double earthquake that struck on June 24, one such image has resonated deeply. Inside an apartment in Playa Grande, almost everything was reduced to rubble. Yet a statue of the Virgin Mary remained standing.
For Fernando Mardeni, whose apartment was destroyed, the image was far more than an unusual coincidence, as shared in an Instagram post by Shalom World News:
"My name is Fernando Mardeni. That miracle happened in my apartment in Playa Grande during the earthquake on June 24," he explained. "As her faithful devotee, I began each day on my knees before her and ended every night with a candle in her honor."
Recalling the terrifying moments when the earthquake struck, he added: "As you can see, only the table moved so that the wall would not knock her down. She remained standing, and she brought me out of there alive."
Another photograph tells a similarly moving story. In a primary school called Santo Niño de Praga (Holy Child of Prague), which also happens to house the Discalced Carmelites from Los Frailes de Catia on its upper floors, a beloved statue of the Virgin Mary survived the earthquake, despite the rest of the building bearing scars of the disaster.
The photo shows the Virgin Mary resting safely on a sofa. While we imagine it was carefully placed there after the collapse, it is another image showing a quiet symbol of faith refusing to disappear amid destruction.

People will draw different conclusions from photographs and videos like these. Yet it is hard to deny the comfort they bring to those who are grieving.
Of course, they're not necessarily proof that God suspended the laws of nature for one particular object, but a gentle reminder that His presence has not disappeared even when the ground beneath our feet seems to have done exactly that.
That may explain why vidoes like Fernando Mardeni's travel so quickly around the world. They are not really about statues. They are about what those statues have represented for centuries: God's presence in the midst of suffering, the loving intercession of Our Lady, and the conviction that darkness never has the final word.
As Venezuela faces the long task of rebuilding, no photograph can erase the grief of those who have lost loved ones or homes. But perhaps that is why homes, schools, hospitals, and classrooms are so often filled with images of Christ, Mary, and the saints. They cannot stop the ground from shaking, but they can quietly remind us where to look when it does.










