The miracle of the Virgin Mary statue on Rosary Hill is an awesome story. For 70 years, they tried to move the statue — in vain. The town was split between those who saw a resort as a source of income, a tourist attraction that would bring profits, but the ones who prevailed were the quiet ones who viewed it as a pilgrimage center and a place to pray. There were no angry protests, only candles and flowers and prayers for the Lady who stayed in their hearts. The target of the Lady was not tourists but pilgrims.

No one knew how the statue got there. There were vague stories, more legend than fact. It was simply there since time immemorial. The statue stood on the highest point of St. Mary’s Creek in Kentucky, with a panoramic view of maple trees and twisting back roads below.

Martha Grady, an Irish immigrant, returned to St. Mary’s after the war with nothing except her faith. She was a charismatic leader for the Lady. Pastor Jim Brennan, parish priest, who said daily mass at the chapel, commented, “The Lady chose the site, and she’s staying.”

The statue was made from one giant slab of snow-white marble from a neighboring county, donated by a developer who ran out of money for his project. Carlo Mancini, a stonemason, jobless, carved the statue and refused any payment. It was a labor of love. Martha said, “He did not talk much, but when he carved the Lady’s face, it was like he already knew her.”

Townsfolk helped bring up the statue in parts to the site on Rosary Hill, where it was assembled. The people donated stones to fill the pedestal, a symbol of their love for the Lady. The Lady could be seen from miles, arms open, gazing down at her people.

From the start, miracles happened. The people heard the deep bass tolling of a non-existent bell — slow, constant, as if a call to prayer, as if a reminder from the Lady to come and visit her.

For whom did the bell toll? For everyone on both sides, the developers and the devotees. The hair on their skin stood with every toll, developers and devotees. The Lady glowed after sunset. The people brought candles and flowers whenever they prayed at the site.

Alas, the town council as the developers got their way. They called the project “St. Mary’s Spiritual Retreat and Resort.” They called it “faith-based tourism.” Somehow, “faith” and “tourism” seemed to contradict each other.

The town council laid out plans for the resort, which meant moving the statue. The engineers tasked to move the statue to make way for a road reported that the giant 4-inch-diameter cables snapped like rubber bands. More giant cranes were acquired from three neighboring states. But the statue was unmoved. The Lady chose to stay for the people so dear to her heart.

There were many stories, good and bad. An architecture student dreamt the statue “fell” into his blueprint. A contractor from Cincinnati slipped on the first step and broke his wrist. The son of Patrick O’Connell was reported missing in action (MIA) on the warfront in Okinawa. When he was found alive and returned home, Eileen, Patrick’s wife, spoke to the Lady, “If you saved our boy and you saved our town, then we’ll keep you here forever.”

And forever she has stayed.