Our Lady of the Lake

In a somewhat-related tribute to the start of Notre Dame's football season, here's a quick post on my visit to Lourdes, France, way back in 1999.  The full name of that university in South Bend, IN is Notre Dame du Lac, which is French for "Our Lady of the Lake."  And Lourdes is in France.  Close enough, right?  

To be honest, I'm surprised that something didn't happen to me on that trip to Lourdes.  I took the Chunnel from London to Paris, then hopped on a train to Lourdes.  Before I left, I asked for a little help from one of the French students.  I spoke maybe a few words of French--"sacre bleu," which was in "Beauty and the Beast" (still don't know what it means) and "merci," which is easy enough.  My understanding of French was far less.  That is, zero.  That friend tried to tell me how to converse in a basic conversation but I quickly realized its futility.  I could speak in flawless French but if I didn't understand what was being said to me in response, what use was it?  So my friend graciously wrote down a few travel-related phrases; including the very ironic "I don't know French."  

I arrived in the Lourdes train station at 8 pm local time and it was much darker than I would've preferred.  I didn't have a hotel booked, since I was under the impression that there were a billion hotels there.  That turned out to be true... but this was November, not the peak tourist season.  I walked for about ten minutes, my anxiety increasing with each passing moment.  By the grace of God, I spied a small hotel that was open.  I walked in, was roughly able to communicate with the attendant, and went upstairs to my room.  

At this point, I was very unsettled.  The ratio of normal minutes to anxiety-filled minutes is similar in kind to the human years to dog years ratio.  Still, for wandering around for hours (on the anxiety-filled minutes scale), I was okay.  I had a place to sleep other than the train station.  No problem now!

Until I couldn't lock the door to my room.  It was one of those old-fashioned keys/keyhole things and I couldn't lock the door for the life of me!  Back on Anxiety-Filled Standard Time.  It took a while to sleep, and ultimately I fell asleep out of pure exhaustion.  

The next day I went souvenir shopping and spent a lot of time in the Grotto.  It was truly one of the most powerful spiritual experiences in my life.  I felt so loved!  So special!  I sat inside the cave itself, on one of the benches, praying rosary after rosary for about two hours.  

I don't mean to glance over the good part and relish in the craziness that preceded it.  The craziness makes for a fun story to tell.  The catch about the good part--how much more can I say about it?  I prayed, I felt loved, I felt like Our Lady was looking at me like her favorite--er, second favorite--child.  There weren't a lot of people there (others knew better than to travel to a mountain town in late November) but I felt like the Blessed Mother set everything up that weekend just for me.  The details may be sparse but the power was in its simplicity.  

Our Lady of Lourdes, pray for us!  St. Bernadette, pray for us!