AFTER visiting Pamplona, Spain and walking along the city’s ancient walls where, as the story goes, St. Ignatius fought and got severely wounded by a cannon ball, our small band of pilgrims eagerly trooped to the train station to catch the next train to Lourdes, in France hoping to be on time for the candlelight procession late in the evening.
While waiting at the station for the next train which would take us to the Spanish-French border our band of pilgrims got engaged in a lively banter. A train strangely pulled in at a different platform, then speeded away without opening its doors. Some minutes later, we were informed that our train had already departed. We were devastated.
The next available trip would be with an overnight train. This would have altered our schedule drastically. Since things were then beyond our control, we invoked Our Lady’s help. Sure enough, some kind souls advised us to take a bus to the northern Basque city of San Sebastian, then travel in a local commuter train to Hendaye, the first town in the border of France. Travel was agonizingly slow, the waiting seemed endless. However, shortly before 10 that night we arrived in Lourdes. We rushed to the Grotto, and, to our relief, we still witnessed the closing minutes of the procession.
Once more, the words of the Memorare came to our minds, “Remember, O Most Gracious Virgin Mary, that never was it known that anyone who fled to your protection, implored your help, or sought your intercession was left unaided.” To our delight, even after the close of the candlelight procession, many pilgrims stayed behind for the Eucharistic adoration. People knelt in adoration till midnight.
The next day, our group attended mass at the Grotto. Priests from several lands concelebrated. Once again, we experienced, there and then, the catholicity or universality of the Church whose sons and daughters proclaim their devotion and love for Mary and her Son.
Our next goal was to go to Paris that Saturday afternoon in order to reach the city before midnight, for the next day we planned to attend mass at the Notre Dame Cathedral. Again, to our dismay all the trains to Paris were fully booked. Once more, feeling so helpless, we implored our Blessed Mother to help us. Fortunately, some seats were still available in the afternoon train even though we had to pay additional amounts. We reached Paris shortly before midnight, had some hours of rest, then rose early the next day to be on time for mass at the Notre Dame Cathedral.
A huge crowd made its way that morning to the interior of the cathedral. The mass began. Led by the choir, the faithful sang with heart and soul the beautiful Gregorian chant in Latin to the accompaniment of pipe organ.
At the end of the mass, our band of pilgrims knelt in solemn prayer, thanking the Lord and His Blessed Mother for the favors—small miracles for us, the grateful recipients—we received, unworthy though we were.
There and then we knew that though assumed body and soul into heaven, Our Blessed Mother feels for us who are here on earth. She also cares.
“…Elizabeth, filled with the Holy Spirit, cried out in a loud voice and said, “Blessed are you among women, and blessed is the fruit of your womb. And who does this happen to me, that the mother of my Lord should come to me?” Luke 1:40b-41.