What Began as a Wall Stain Became a Shrine: The Chicago Miracle Officials Still Can’t Explain (2 of 4)

Delgado says that on that April day, the sight didn’t feel metaphorical. It felt physical, intimate, as if someone had reached through concrete and exhaust fumes to tap her shoulder. She returned again and again, sometimes alone, sometimes with neighbors who whispered prayers while semi-trucks thundered overhead. Word spread fast in a city fluent in rumor. Within days, flowers appeared. Candles flickered against the wall. Handwritten notes thanked Mary for healed knees, sober sons, and reconciled marriages.

Then the state stepped in with a shrug. The Illinois Department of Transportation announced the image was nothing more than salt runoff, a winter stain etched by chemistry and chance. Chicago, never shy with sarcasm, responded with nicknames. “Mary’s Salt Stain.” “Our Lady of the Viaduct.” The one that stuck—“Our Lady of the Underpass”—felt half joke, half poetry. To believers, the explanation missed the point entirely. Faith, after all, has never asked permission from science.