It's Feb. 11 today, Feast of Our Lady of Lourdes. In honour of this special day I would like to share a few of my own experiences of Lourdes.
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Lourdes. It was nothing like I expected. I had tried not to
build up the place in my mind but that’s hard to do when the Mother of God has
visited there. It was crowded, the lines were long, the pilgrims didn’t
always act holy, and one of the men on my tour even had his camera stolen
there.
So, would I go back? In a heartbeat!
I can still feel the walls in the grotto, made smooth by
millions of hands caressing the stone as they shuffled by. Many touched their
rosaries to it as well. There were little rivulets of water running down the
rock, that pilgrims would bless themselves with. Each one seemed to linger as
they contemplated the niche in the rock where the Blessed Mother had appeared.
I loved the braziers full of candles, each one representing
the silent prayers of the pilgrims for their loved ones. Sometimes the heat was
so intense the candles would bow over, as if they too were imploring God with
their requests for miraculous healing.
Every night there was the great winding candle procession
from the grotto to the front of the Rosary Basilica. I watched from the balcony
overlooking the square, the luminous stream winding its way up and down the avenue,
as I listened to thousands of voices singing Ave Maria together, lifting their
candles in unison during the chorus. It was absolutely soul stirring.
The morning my friend and I went to the baths we rose early.
As we walked across the square there was a magnificent full moon setting behind
the basilica. I wanted to take a photo but I knew the camera could never
capture the full glory of it.
The lineups for the baths were long. We sat in the same
place for over an hour. Slowly we began to inch forward. Parents were bringing
their sick children in strollers and wheel chairs to the baths set aside especially
for them. This is the most penetrating memory of them all; little twisted
bodies, parents clinging to their last shred of hope, the kindness of the bath attendants.
This was the real Lourdes. I had to look away, to spare them my look of pity.
That, they did not need. What they did need was prayer.
Finally I waited by the blue and white striped curtains
for my invitation into the private area. When my turn came, I entered a small changing
room. There was room for 6 of us plus some attendants. We were given long navy
blue capes so we could undress in relative privacy. A woman came through another set of curtains as she exited the bath,
now it was my turn.
The baths at that time dated from the 1950s and were made of
gray Lourdes stone, the same as the grotto. The walls were tiled and at the end
of the small room was an image of Our Lady. I was frozen at this point, my eyes
as wide as saucers trying to take it all in. The attendant spoke to me in
French but I told her I spoke English. She asked me to pray for my intentions.
I could only look at the picture of Mother Mary and entrust my prayers to her
for I could not arrange my thoughts properly. This was probably the best thing
to do.
With my blue cape still on I was discreetly wrapped in a wet
sheet that had been wrung out by two attendants. The cape was then removed and they
indicated I could now enter the water. I tried to be brave but that water was
so shockingly cold I gasped. I had waited for over 40 years for this so I decided
I would embrace the experience and I submerged myself to my neck, quickly
praying that the waters would heal anything that might be making me ill, either physically,
mentally, or spiritually. I then stood up and was helped out of the bath. The
cape went back on, the wet sheet came off to be wrung out for the next woman,
and I went back into the changing room. It was as if time had stopped and sped
up in the same moment. I couldn’t believe it was over already, not that it
would have been comfortable to linger in that icy water.
There were no towels to dry off with. I was instructed to
simply put my clothes back on under the privacy of the cape. The amazing thing
was that I was dry almost instantly and I felt comfortably warm. Many others
have reported having the same experience. I then exited the baths and went to Mass at the the Grotto.
A few days later we travelled to Nevers where the incorrupt
body of St. Bernadette still rests. When I was finally able to kneel in front
of her glass casket I wept. For so long I had desired to see her. She was endearingly
small. Sadly this resulted from her poor health in childhood. She died at the age of 35, even though she had been offered water from Lourdes to bathe in. She declined, knowing the restoration of physical health was not meant for her. Truly I think she longed to be with Jesus, and to see our beautiful Blessed Mother again.
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Je vous salue, Marie pleine de grâce ;
le Seigneur est avec vous.
Vous êtes bénie entre toutes les femmes et Jésus,
le fruit de vos entrailles, est béni.
Sainte Marie, Mère de Dieu,
priez pour nous pauvres pécheurs,
maintenant et à l’heure de notre mort.
💗
