My week in Lourdes

Intro - Lourdes is a small town in the south of France, just nestling beneath the Pyrenees Mountains. In 1858 it was documented that Mary the Mother of God appeared to a local girl called Bernadette Soubirous on eighteen occasions and since then the town has been a place of pilgrimage for millions of Roman Catholics, many spurred on by the reports of miraculous healings. My first four visits to Lourdes were as a carer with HCPT (Handicapped Children’s Pilgrimage Trust) but I was there this time as a sick pilgrim, something I would never have envisioned for myself. It is a humbling experience, as I want to be the strong one, the one who supports and cares for others, but I must accept that this is where I am just now in my life. Lourdes has played an important part in my life, helping me to grow in confidence and self-esteem as a shy and awkward teenager, and teaching me that selfless love for others is a very fulfilling and enriching experience. I made a personal pilgrimage to Lourdes in 2008 when my health was very poor, giving my family and I the strength to endure just a bit more. I am not sure why God called me back to Lourdes this year, but nobody who comes to Lourdes with an open heart goes away empty handed.
Friday – An early start with 8.45am mass at Motherwell Cathedral and then away we go to Edinburgh Airport. On the bus I notice a young lad with a t-shirt, which I thought was brave. I was covered in my usual seventeen layers of clothes, paranoid about the weather like there is a rain storm lurking with sinister intent around every corner. Everything goes smoothly at the airport, which I find surprising because I look like a Russian gangster in my passport photo. Soon we are in the air, arriving at Lourdes about two and half hours later. There are introductions and pleasant small talk over dinner, a four course affair which leaves me breathless. I skipped evening service. It was a long day and I was tired. There will be plenty of other opportunities for prayer and reflection. At the end of the day I had a good feeling about the coming week, both for myself and my parents.
Saturday – Thursday’s sleepless night caught up with me so after lunch I decided to skip mass at the Rosary Basilica and take an extended siesta, watching some golf on television up until dinner. Earlier today one of the priests said that confession was a good way of starting a pilgrimage in Lourdes, preparing a way for the Lord with a clean slate. I liked this idea so after dinner my mum and I went to confession. The priest, Father Harry, was a lovely, gracious man. The torchlight procession was a beautiful experience. It was a balmy evening as thousands of pilgrims gathered at the Grotto and then processed to the square in front of the Basilica while saying the rosary, led by people of different nationalities over the loudspeaker system. Even Arabic was sung, which I found enchanting and moving. The atmosphere was very peaceful and prayerful.
Sunday – Scorching day. After lunch there was the Blessed Sacrament procession. Walking down to the Basilica Square I had a good conversation with Harry, the priest who had heard my confession the previous day. The procession was nice but sometimes I don’t respond well to religious services or environments and this was one of those times. I was fine later on, although disappointed that the pretty brunette waitress who had caught my eye at lunch earlier that day was missing at dinner. It must have been her day off. In the evening there was quiz, which was fun. I enjoyed some red wine and banter, and it was good to get to know some of the other pilgrims better.
Monday – After lunch we went to the baths. It is tradition in Lourdes to bathe in the waters, something which Our Lady asked us to do when talking to St. Bernadette. When I got up in the morning a heavy wave of depression washed over me. I had a not experienced something like this for a couple of years and I had no idea where it came from. It lasted only a couple of hours but when I got to the baths I decided to make this visit for all those people out there suffering from the terrible scourge of depression. I have been to the bathes several times but I am always a little daunted by the experience because the water is so cold. You undress and then are covered with a towel that is so cold that it takes your breath away. Fortunately the helpers are very respectful and kind. They help you down a couple of steps into a regular sized bath with the water coming up to your knees and then dip you back until you are submerged up to your neck. You stand back up, there are a few moments of prayer and then the helpers guide you out to the dressing area. I felt good after coming out of the baths, rejuvenated and light hearted. After a quick visit to the Blessed Sacrament Chapel, my dad and I went for a coffee and a few glasses of wine, enjoying our conversation in the sun, a novel experience for two Scots. No father/son time is complete without talking about football, but we conversed about other things as well. I enjoyed our time together. At the evening meal the pretty brunette waitress was back sporting a new hairstyle. I like to think she had this done just for me. I decided to visit the Grotto at night so I went down at about 11pm, looking forward to the very peaceful and special atmosphere that the Grotto has at that time. Unfortunately there was a mass taking place when I arrived so I lit a candle for family and friends and went back to the hotel. On my return I felt unwell, so I took two paracetamol and went to bed.
Tuesday – I awoke late to more glorious weather. After lunch we went to the Rosary Basilica for the Mass of the Anointing of the Sick. Bishop Devine said mass but I understood about four words in forty. The sound system was poor but Bishop Devine had the unfortunate habit of jerking his head away from the microphone and speaking very fast. Still it was a nice service and good to receive the sacraments. No sign of the pretty brunette at dinner so my attention turned to a nice looking blonde waitress. I fear that I am becoming a serial womaniser, even if it’s all in my head. After dinner I watched some television and then went for an amble with my parents. On return to my hotel I was feeling unwell again. I was furious at God and a mixture of swear words and prayers flew in his direction. I came to Lourdes in an act of faith and then this happens. What the hell are you playing at Lord?
Wednesday – I awoke with murder in my heart and this must have been visible during lunch because my mum suggested that I speak with Harry. After some humming and hawing I relented to her idea. Harry was very attentive, gracious and our talk helped me a lot. He is an excellent man and priest.  Today was a free day so after lunch I spent some time with my parents down at the Grotto and then at a chapel with adoration of the Blessed Sacrament. The day was another scorcher so we went to a café and treated ourselves to some sorbet. It was so hot that I half expected to hear the main theme tune to Lawerence Of Arabia strike up. There was still no sign of the pretty brunette waitress at dinner. Maybe she is so distraught at the thought of me leaving that the end of the week that she has hurled herself into the river that runs through Lourdes. I continue to leave a trail of broken hearts in my wake. Quiet evening watching television.
Thursday – Last day of the pilgrimage. Temperatures around 35 degrees. After lunch we gathered across the river from the Grotto, finding some shade for the closing ceremony which included a renewal of our baptismal vows. It was a nice way to end the pilgrimage. We had some more free time to sample sorbet at our favourite café. I tried a tangy lemon flavour.  At dinner I spoke to Harry and I was touched and pleased that he had bought me gift and a card. I hope to stay in contact with him. Quiet evening watching Olympic football.
Friday – A very early rise and some bitter coffee was not the best start to the day. It would only get worse. We arrived at the airport only to discover that our flight had been delayed by a few hours so we headed back to Lourdes where we lounged about the hotel in a state of limbo. Back again to the airport but there were further delays. This was tough enough for me, a young guy, but it must have been much worse for the old and infirm of body. I read P.G Wodehouse to keep my spirits up. We didn’t get into the air until about 10.30pm and then instead of a decent meal the trolley dollys handed out limp, plastic sandwiches. I think most of us were on autopilot by this time and just wanted to get home. I did not get to my bed until 4am. It was not the ideal way to end a very successful and enjoyable week, but, apart from the chill I caught and the brief spell of depression I experienced, this was really the only negative aspect of the pilgrimage. I am not quite sure what I exactly took from the whole experience of being in Lourdes on pilgrimage. I just have that feeling of being blessed.