To Lourdes and Into Mary’s Arms

Having led pilgrimages to Lourdes many times, the Knights and Dames of Malta will tell you that every story connected with Lourdes will be different.  Every mother knows that each and every child is different. Each child reveals the uniqueness of his or her creator and so we should not be surprised that each Lourdes story will affect each pilgrim in a different way. Why would we expect any less of the mother of Jesus?    

When the news came that Katie and I were going to Lourdes, we were so excited and crying at the same time. How many nights had I hoped and prayed to be able to take my child there? How many doctor visits, ER trips, or nights spent wondering if she would make it until morning because blood sugar numbers can be so destructive and unpredictable? Did she run too fast on the playground and now her sugar would plummet? Was her blood sugar too high because she forgot to bolus? Would this round of the ordinary stomach virus put her in the hospital? When the doctor’s well-meaning treatment of the disease makes your child feel like a number instead of a person, something needs to change. “Lord to whom shall we go?” You are our hope. You told us whom we should seek when you were hanging on the cross at Calvary. “Behold your mother.” We come to Lourdes seeking her intercession and merciful embrace.

Six days after the call came about Lourdes, my father died. The day our family chose for his funeral Mass was February 11, which happed to be the feast of Our Lady of Lourdes. In honor of the feast day we sang the Ave Maria for the communion hymn. It brought tears to my eyes not only this time, but so many times before after my daughter Katie’s diagnosis. I would think of Lourdes and wish we were there singing the Ave Maria there.

My husband took off a week of work to mind the younger children and drove us to the airport. I am forever grateful knowing the young ones were safe with him and that I could concentrate on getting Katie to Lourdes.

Once on the chartered flight, I told Katie to pinch me to make sure it was real. Eight hours later, the plane touched down in Tarbes, France. Members of the Lourdes Hospitalite helped the handicapped off our plane and we were soon checked through Customs. The sign leaving the airport said in English, STOP. I found that amusing. A smaller sign in blue read ARRETE.

The first Mass of our pilgrimage was in the Basilica of the Rosary, lined with 15 side altars with beautiful mosaics of the each decade of the Rosary from the Joyful, Sorrowful and Glorious Mysteries. The Luminous Mysteries are found outside on the front of the basilica. Each mosaic had its own tabernacle, altar and communion rail.

Built in the early 1900s, the basilica had plaques with the names of thousands of people After Mass, our pilgrimage group lit the largest candle I’ve ever seen, weighing about 70 pounds. It was incredibly comforting.

Another point of craftsmanship that struck me at Lourdes is that the area had to be hewn from rock to build the churches.

The original basilica, called the upper basilica or the Basilica of the Immaculate Conception, was breathtaking as well. Multiple side altars of mostly French saints, and those with a close association to Mary, surrounded the perimeter inside. St. Francis and St. Anthony were also frequently found in Lourdes. Everyone needs help finding lost things and everyone loves their animals! The crypt below the upper basilica houses part of St. Bernadette’s ribs in a gold reliquary. The rest of her body is incorrupt at the convent in Nevers, France about six hours away.

One of the highlights of our pilgrimage was our trip to the baths and the exterior spigots, all flowing with about 55,000 gallons of water daily from the spring first dug by St. Bernadette. The water is crystal clear and cold. People from all over the world come and fill their water bottles here to drink and take home to loved ones. A woman next to me, from Uruguay, planned to bring Lourdes water home to her sister who had breast cancer and six children.

The volunteer staff at the baths are caring and prayerful. Waiting outside in the cold, pilgrims wondered if they would freeze on the way out. The Hospitalite volunteers, however, wrapped navy cloaks around you to protect your modesty as you undressed. As I sat waiting, tears flowed, and the women prayed with me and rubbed my shoulder until my turn came.

When I went into the bath, a French woman spoke, “La mere de juene fille,” and then figured out “Anglais.” The staff asked me to pray and pointed to a ceramic image of Mary’s head with a yellow halo on a blue background. I prayed for the intentions which I carried to Lourdes. There was no rush. They said to let them know when I was done, and they were praying with me. I stepped into the icy cold water. They asked if I wanted to go into the bath. I told them I did. They wrapped me a cold wet towel and helped me down into the grey stone tub. I thought for a split second my heart would stop with the temperature of the water. Then up, around and cloaked again in blue, I stepped back into the dressing room and did not feel cold at all. After dressing and emerging into the chill of the day, I felt nothing but happiness and warmth. My “jeune fille” was also warm.

After the baths, we went to Mass in St. Bernadette’s Church on the Domain, where there was anointing of the sick, followed that evening by a candlelight Rosary procession of all pilgrims. Saturday morning, we attended Mass in the grotto where the Blessed Mother appeared to Bernadette in 1858. The stone grotto sits at the bottom of the basilicas, built into the rock in her honor. Katie was asked to read the prayer petitions, which was an absolute gift for both her and me. I felt all of our petitions surging up to heaven. We had waited in pouring cold rain for Mass to begin but soon after it began, the sun came out so brilliantly that we needed our sunglasses. By communion time, there was a strong, blustery wind followed by snow. By the recessional, the sun was out again.

The rock inside the grotto is cold. It feels like the temperature drops 20-30 degrees when you walk inside. The spring is covered by Plexiglas, standing completely separate from the beautiful Gave De Pau river running through the Domain. People leave flowers here and run their hand over the wet rock while saying their prayers. Hundreds of candles are set in windproof cases and burn throughout the day and night.

Sunday Mass was held in the underground concrete Basilica of St. Pius X which extends the size of two football fields. I opted instead to go to Mass at the hotel with a saintly priest who was among our pilgrims. Afterward, he taught us to sing the Magnificat in Gregorian chant and gave out copies of a beautiful prayer to the Holy Spirit which he had written.

On Monday, we visited the cachot, which is the one-room house where St. Bernadette lived with her family during the time of the apparitions. We went a few streets over for Mass in Sacred Heart Church, the parish where she baptized. The original church was destroyed in a fire, but her baptismal font remains, surrounded by pictures that tell the story of her life.  That afternoon we took a bus ride into the Pyrenees for a glorious afternoon and toured 12^th Century abbeys and a bridge built by Napoleon. The evening was topped off with a talent show.

On Tuesday, our farewell Mass was said in St. Joseph’s Chapel and followed by a blessing of the malades in the Domain. We shopped in the afternoon for souvenirs for our loved ones. So many little shops, mostly named for saints selling religious goods.

Later, while Katie followed the Stations of the Cross with the other malades on the prairie, I went to the stations on the hill. Each station on the hill was an entire scene in bronze from the life of Christ and each sign written in five or six languages. On the way up the hill, we passed a Sacred Heart statue just out in a field. It seemed to match the other statues in bronze. The crucifixion was at the top of the hill, with a marble altar, indicating that the Mass is the same sacrifice as that of the cross. As the path sloped down to the 13th and 14th stations, we found the tomb cut into the rock of the mountain naturally. I am always a little sad by the 14th station. It seems so final and I always wish there was a 15th. This is the thought that was running through my head as we walked around to the other side and came upon the open tomb with the huge rock rolled away. A woman with two small boys was singing softly in French as she anointed the tomb with perfume.  On the side of the rock it said, “Resurrexit, sicut dixit”, or, “He is risen as he said.” My dad used to say that all the time. It was my sign and the tears came again.

In every language, and there are many in Lourdes, Mary is our Mother. No matter what the language is the refrain is the same—Ave, Ave, Ave Maria. She wipes our tears, calms our fears and takes our petitions to her Son. Tears are prayers, and I said a lot of prayers in Lourdes. To go to Lourdes with Katie was indeed one of the greatest blessings of my life.