Apr 18, 2024

⛪ Blessed Andrés Hibernón Real - Religious

Blessed Andrés Hibernón Real was born in 1534—we don’t know the exact day—in Murcia, a sunny town in southeastern Spain. His family didn’t have much money. His dad, Juan Hibernón, worked hard as a farmer or laborer, his hands rough from digging in dry dirt or carrying heavy loads. His mom raised Andrés and his brothers and sisters in a small house made of mud and straw, with a roof that sometimes leaked. Murcia was a simple place—its streets were dusty, with people selling figs, olives, and bread in little markets. The air smelled of earth, sweat, and the sweet flowers growing wild outside town. In the 1500s, Spain was a big country, ruled by kings who loved God and fought wars, but folks like Andrés’s family struggled to eat every day.

Andrés was a little boy with dark hair and big eyes, growing up in a house that was loud with kids but short on food. He wore old clothes—maybe a patched tunic and barefoot most days—and ate plain stuff like bread, beans, or a little cheese if they were lucky. His mom and dad taught him about God early. At night, they’d sit by a small fire with a cross on the wall, saying prayers in Spanish. Andrés’s small hands held a rosary—maybe just knots on a string—and he listened to stories about Jesus and saints who lived with nothing. This tells us: God can call you when you’re poor, and a kid can love Him in a hard home.

The Hibernón family had little—meals were small, the house was hot in summer and cold in winter, and they worked hard just to live. When he was six, in 1540, life was tough, but Murcia kept going—Spain was growing strong, sending ships to new lands. He liked helping even then, carrying water or watching goats—at 10, in 1544, he started learning, maybe from a priest who taught him a few words and prayers. At 12, in 1546, he got quiet, sitting outside at night, looking at the stars and thinking about God. Spain was busy—kings built churches, and people loved faith—at 15, in 1549, he heard God calling him, feeling like he didn’t need much to be happy—Readers, look here: poor days can grow big faith, and a boy can hear God in a dry land.

Working Hard, Then Changing

Andrés didn’t start out holy. At 18, in 1552, he worked with his family, helping his dad in the fields or doing odd jobs for coins. He was strong—carrying heavy stuff, digging dirt, sweating under the sun. He lived simple, sleeping on the floor, eating whatever they had—then trouble came, around 1553, when he was 19. Thieves attacked him on the road, taking what little he carried. Andrés got mad but didn’t fight—he ran home, thinking hard. He felt lost, wondering why bad things happened—This says loud: tough times can wake you up, and losing stuff can turn you to God.

The 1550s rolled on—Spain was rich from new lands, but poor folks like Andrés stayed poor. At 20, in 1554, he made a big choice, telling his family he wanted to be a friar, not a worker. They were okay with it—glad he picked God. He joined the Franciscans, a group of men who lived with nothing, like Saint Francis. He left his old life—traded rough work clothes for a brown robe, sandals, and a little room with a mat—This tells us: you can change for God, and giving up makes you free.

Living Plain and Holy

Andrés loved being a friar. At 22, in 1556, he started learning, living with the Franciscans in Murcia or nearby. They taught him to pray all day, work with his hands, and help poor people. He swept floors, grew vegetables, and ate little—bread, maybe some soup. He didn’t complain, smiling even when his feet hurt or his stomach growled—by 25, in 1559, he loved praying, sitting in the friary church for hours, talking to God and Mary quietly—Spain was strong—kings sent gold home, but many were hungry—Andrés prayed with his rosary, a worn one, feeling God close—This says: simple living makes you happy, and praying keeps you strong.

The years went on—at 30, in 1564, he helped more, going to villages near Murcia to fix things or give food to the poor. He’d sit with them, share his bread, and listen to their troubles. He saw God in them, thinking every person mattered—by 35, in 1569, he got quieter, praying alone in the fields or church, feeling God so near he’d cry happy tears—This tells us: helping others brings you to God, and staying small keeps you holy.

Being Good and Strong

Andrés kept living his plain life. At 40, in 1574, he worked harder, walking miles to help sick folks or pray with families. He didn’t care if they were dirty or poor—he loved them anyway. People liked him, saying he was kind and gentle—by 45, in 1579, he got special gifts, like knowing things before they happened or seeing God in dreams—Spain was busy—wars kept going, but faith stayed big—Andrés stayed little, saying, “It’s all God”—This says: giving all you have makes you special, and God shines through plain folks.

The 1580s came—at 50, in 1584, he got tired, his body sore from years of walking and working with little food. He didn’t stop—kept praying and helping. By 55, in 1589, people knew him, not because he wanted fame, but because they saw how good he was. They’d ask him to pray when they were sick or sad, and sometimes good things happened—like feeling better or finding peace—at 60, in 1594, he got weaker, his hands shaky from giving so much—This tells us: loving God lasts, and God uses simple people.

A Peaceful End

Andrés’s life ended calm—on April 18, 1602, at 68, he died, lying on a hard mat in Gandía, a town where he’d gone to help his Franciscan brothers. He went easy, his last words maybe “Jesus” or “Mary”—they buried him there, in a church where he prayed—he became Blessed on September 22, 1791, his day is April 18—People cheered—they said, “He’s with God now!”—This shows: dying simple makes you big, and a quiet end helps others.

Helping People Today

Andrés’s story lives on—Murcia and Gandía remember him, his resting place a spot where people pray—he helps folks who love simple lives, and anyone trying to live good and true—Spain changed, but his way stays—Today, he says: be kind and small, friends, let God lead you. This sings: one plain guy can shine forever, and being little beats being big.

A Friend for You Now

Andrés’s life talks to us—he started poor, got robbed, then picked a simple life for God. That shows hard times can make you good, and you don’t need much to be happy. You don’t have to be a friar, but you can let go of stuff and love God more. He made simple holy, proving God loves you no matter what—people saw his goodness fast, calling him Blessed years later—he helps you stay strong, great for anyone who wants to pray or help others—God can make a saint from a poor boy who loved quiet, and He can make one from you too. Just give Him your heart—This says: God turns little into big, and you can be holy if you try.

How He Helps You

Andrés’s story pulls you in—his poor days say look for God, stuff doesn’t matter; his friar life says stay plain, God’s right there. His helping says be tough—keep going when it’s hard, faith holds you up. His end says trust—die calm, God’s your prize. He left in a brown robe—live so you shine at the end, and rest with Him. Walk his way: share something, pray when you’re tired, let God lift you.

A Prayer to Blessed Andrés Hibernón Real

Dear Blessed Andrés, friend who lived simple for God, you worked hard and loved big, your life a song in tough times. Show me how to let go, so I can follow with your good heart. Teach me to trust easy, stay strong when life’s hard, and feel peace when I’m worn out. Help me drop my wants, my worries, and sit close to God, my heart ready for Him. Give me your love for plain days, your brightness, so my days help Him shine. By your place in Gandía, listen to me, and with your holy words, let me live small, brave, and real, showing His light till I’m done. Amen.

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