and dangerous pilgrimage. I was not one to be won over to religion
by just one sentence, but even I – a stubborn teen – could feel the
faith and hope in merely that single sentence.
Until the
señor
had mentioned riots and killing, I had never realized
how dangerous this trip really was. I was not completely sure, but if
God was in charge of all things, as
Madre
insisted He was, perhaps
He wanted me to go on this pilgrimage with her so I could protect
her. Oh, how I wished
Padre
were still here! He would protect us,
and make me feel safe. I do not really remember
Padre
, but the few
memories I do have of him are of attending High Mass with him.
I also recall him teaching me how to pray the Rosary, to which he
had always had a special devotion. I recall his deep, beautiful voice
singing “Immaculate Mary,” his favorite hymn. Perhaps –
My thoughts were interrupted once again by the stagecoach driver
announcing, “Entering Fatima, Portugal!”
As we neared Fatima, the streets grew noticeably busier. I heard
all kinds of languages, from English to French to even Italian.
Everywhere people were talking about the young shepherds of
Fatima and the miraculous apparitions of Our Lady. Of course, I
probably heard a lot of rumors and falsehoods, too, as we traveled
into the town, but as I did not know much about the topic, I was
unable to discern right from wrong. When we finally got off the
stagecoach in the center of Fatima, we stepped off into the midst of
a large crowd.
“Why are all these people here?” I asked
Madre
as we walked to the
field where we would be sleeping, speaking loudly so as to be heard
above the hubbub of the crowd.
“To witness the great miracle, Maria,” answered
Madre
simply.
Later, as we were laying out our blankets and preparing to go
to sleep, the señor who had spoken with us on the stagecoach
approached us along with his wife.
“Er, you said that you’re going to sleep out here alone, without
a man to protect you against the riots,” he began, obviously a
bit uncomfortable. “We’re here because my wife wanted to take
a handful of dirt from the place where the miracle occurred last
month, to keep as a kind of sacramental by which we might
remember this miracle afterwards. We figured we’d come early and
beat the crowds. But now we want to invite you to sleep with us.”
Rezar | Chantal LaFortune | Grade 10
24
BAYLEY BULLETIN, MAR-MAY 2016
