Just a little time for reflection

Dear Loyal Blog Visitors,

How much I have been missing you all since the start of the new term. I hope you have all had peaceful and fruitful starts to your New Year. Mine has been a little hectic but I'm just beginning to catch my breath and be still for a little while. I have made several applications in the past week, looking at the possibility of venturing out of my current comfort zone. I hope you will pray for me, that my path is one filled with the right choices and that I may learn to serve Him first and myself second.

I have some posts planned for the next few days and I can't wait to get back to reading my favourite blogs. After the snow I think I can see just a fragment of spring breaking through the darkness and life beginning to reawaken. A little hope for these dark winter days. Seasons really are metaphors that explain themseleves.

Yours in prayer

Final advent reflection

Yesterday I had the remarkable experience of climbing the clock tower of British Parliament, affectionately known as Big Ben- all 334 steps to the top. I touched the clock faces on the inside of this world famous monument and then went up to watch Big Ben (actually the name of the bell rather than the tower) strike 12 - midday. It was so much fun and we were the last group to be able to do so in the year 2009. At the very top, where the bell is, you can see out across London itself and watching it from up there I felt a great affection for my city. Watching little read buses, the Thames and the London Eye on this cold Tuesday before Christmas everything seemed so pristine and perfect; so free of imperfection and chaos. There was so much life and hope, an aura of it from the silent height of the tower that has given London its rhythm and time for 150 years. There was a security in standing somewhere that survived four separate bombs during the war and came out chiming.

Yet, things are not always as they appear. I am sad for the character of my country because Big Ben may still be chiming out, peoples' hearts may still be filled with good and much that is positive has changed here since that first chime 150 years ago, I want to say that first because it is important to remember. Yet our moral compass in this nation has certainly not proved to be as resilient as our iconic clock, this year alone has seen Christians and the pro-life cause battered further as bills were passed in the building I was standing directly above at that moment in time. In fact the building the tower is connected to is, obviously, the building where all anti life bills have been triumphantly passed. As a mortal being man finds himself caught by time and the era in which we are living is one that does not want to recognise its own mortality or look back to that time 2000 years ago when all humanity, regardless of time, was marked to receive its greatest gift. The gift that we await now in these last days of Advent. Our ego in this time of Hawking and Dawkins is often great enough to think we don't need a God.

Waiting is something that seems to have been lost in a world where we are pushed to get what we want when we want it, something I found myself back in the midst of fairly quickly after I returned to ground level and the bustling consumer streets of central London; trying to find a sign of REAL Christmas was very difficult. Trying to find that sense of order, hope and peace I experienced looking out over the same streets from the advantage of height and distance seemed impossible. Being up there was a privilege and a joy which I will not soon forget but it did make me think about looking at things, including ourselves, as we really are. Sometimes receding from the chaos, surveying the overall picture can make you appreciate how fortunate you are, the beauty and the good things which are so vital to hold on to. Yet on its own this view would blind you from the reality and truth of the ways things are when you get close to them. In its own way it was a sort of mountain experience.

It can become a sort of metaphor for the way we look at ourselves and examine our conscience.

From a distance, surveying my actions and my personal truth I may consider myself to be ticking along nicely. Yet Advent is about coming down to the ground level of our soul, getting into the midst of the streets of our being. Can I find signs of the real Christmas within myself, not the self that I want to see from a pleasant distance but the self that is real and unromanticised- the bustle of my working soul. Where is Christ's birth within me? Getting into the muddle is about seeing the plank in my own eye and coming to the crib with humility, not just the gloss of the way I think I appear. Its tough to let go of the way I think I am and confront my own actions, desires and purity of heart. Confront my own ego.

It is a simple revelation but an important one, if I am to learn anything for Advent, my final prayer for this beautiful time of waiting is that I will be able to get down to the nitty gritty of those "streets of my soul" and examine them. Can I discern what I need to work on in the coming year to stop myself getting caught up in things of little significance which will only serve to throw my own moral compass off course? I want to clear the cluttered roads of my own desires so that every little part of my soul has Christ's name firmly sign posted. I hope that the aura of hope, the life may really be thriving at the very core - not just on the surface. It is a tall order but Christmas has to be about hope, the hope that we might be worthy of the great gift of life we are asked to receive. We only have to bow our heads and accept and then perhaps we will create a life for ourselves more resilient than any clock tower, more resilient than time itself. What greater hope can there be than this?

(Thanks to Soph for organising the trip yesterday- it was amazing!)

Hanging out with Carthusians (in spirit)

With a lack of Internet access in my life over the last month or so I have been spending my time doing lots of extra reading - you don't need technology to procrastinate and I'll always find a way. So what have I been reading dear readers, who have been kind enough to return after I have neglected you for so long? Well, among other things the writing of various, unnamed, Carthusians. This has largely happened by accident. It's strange when things seem to converge and by coincidence several people give you things to read which are connected and that is what happened to me at the end of the summer. I was given a book of Carhtusian writings and then a friend sent me a few extracts from the book he had been reading and before I knew it I was hooked. John Paul II said there is no such thing as a coincidence and I think I quite agree.

 Despite their enclosed nature it quickly became clear to me that these guys have a better handle on human nature and the modern world than those of us trapped in the grind. Advent, though it is almost at a close, has been the perfect ground for nurturing this reading for it has been born in the stillness and the silence of waiting and for this reason it is profound in its simple truths. I just wanted to share a little of my most recent reading with you, from a chapter entitled 'Christmas':

"For the world has need of love, for love alone gives joy. And grace is of itself fruitful; it cannot burn within us without lighting up other souls.

May the Blessed Virgin, hidden and silent in the cave of Bethlehem, help us to imitate her in her recollectedness and purity"*

I hope you all have a blessed and peaceful close to Advent.

*PAGE 89 The Prayer of Love and Silence, Gracewing, 2006 (originally published in 1962 by Darton, Longman and Todd Ltd.)

COPYRIGHT - The Carthusian order in England

To respond with love

Last Friday I spent the day packing boxes full of peoples' donations for parts of Eastern Europe where there is extreme poverty. I went to help because the woman who collects the donations in her house (who was working for this charity since before the fall of the Berlin wall) is now ninety and, as a severe asthmatic, has been told she should no longer lift anything, how ever small. This hasn't stopped her. The donations will be couriered through Poland until they reach a religious community there. When it gets to the Fathers it will be divided up in order to share it among communities in need and then it will be taken on to parts of the Ukraine, Belarus and among others, communities still affected by the Chernobyl disaster, where babies are still being born without eyes. It will be taken by the Fathers themselves who will go back and forth tirelessly with fairly limited transport until it is all delivered. It is only scratching the surface, yet because of the personal response of all these people children will have toys, elderly people will have soap, mothers and fathers, teenagers will have clothing. Without that van of aid they would not. It really is as simple as that.

It is difficult to describe how humbled I felt being around Vi, the woman in question. I packed for a few hours and was tired; she has people in and out of her house at all different hours of the day all the time. Each day friends from church come in and do some packing. Yet all of us are purely bathing in the light of her true goodness- since this is one of her many projects. She never loses patience with her packers and insists on making us tea and cakes, she answers thousands of questions from those of us who have no idea of the severe customs laws, she painstakingly copies out labels for every bag and box in Polish - she has looked up and checked all the words and has to copy them from her hand written list. This is a woman whose favourite Birthday present was 900 tea bags for her parcels. In parts of the Ukraine people can't afford tea, all they can drink is hot water. Vi has responded to them, but more than this, she has responded to them with love.

There are so many forms of poverty in the world, in our own lives. One of the great examples of love in our world today is Jean Vanier, founder of the L'Arche community. It is his belief that each of us is poor and handicapped in our own way so we shouldn't get any ideas about our own greatness, nor others lowliness. Each of us can give and each of us can learn from one another but no human being is less valuable than another in the sight of God. I understand all of this as best I can - with all my own flaws.

Nevertheless, I feel an increasing concern in my own life about how I am responding, personally, to the cries of the poor. I feel a stronger pull towards walking with them in my own life in some way. In Western terms I don't come from a particularly wealthy family but I have been given so much in my life in terms of love and the education I received- I believe that this privilege is a responsibility- the tools I need to respond. My university chaplain constantly warned us of this- if you are given opportunity then it is your responsibility to turn this into a chance to love. I know that I have written in the past about when I was in Tanzania two and a half years ago, about how the children I met there have burrowed into a place in my heart. I think about their lives often and I think about their pain. It is easy for me to see snippets of lives of those who suffer, to be briefly united to them and to feel compassion for them. It is much harder to know what to do about these feelings. How can we help those who most need it? How can we turn these feelings into a loving response in whatever way that might be possible?

I don't have any answers to that one (obviously) except the one that we all have, the one that Christ ultimately gives us - respond with love. How we do this is deeply individual and personal (again, sorry I am stating the obvious). As long as we respond. Action through prayer is certainly a highly powerful response and you can see it working in our own missionaries.

I just feel that I need to be working on improving my personal response. I am grateful as always to be part of a Church that does so much for the poor, no matter the criticisms levelled, I have seen it in action. Where there are no others, the Church is there at the heart of poverty. Thus we are all there.

Below is a video I filmed of the kids singing in the Fransalian school in Tanzania. It was the happiest school I have EVER visited and it is one of the many projects the MSFS are responsible for in just this one area. You get to hear me laughing away at the end as I was treated to another rendition of my 'favourite' song. It makes me smile whenever I watch it. Projects like this are hope personified in a world where there is no infrastructure whatsoever to support the average person. Education is a light of strength. Christ lives in the hope of each one of these children.

I ask for your prayers as I am deciding a few important things in the coming months. I believe I have been offered an opportunity to respond more fully on a personal level - I ask for your help that I will do His will. That I will respond with love in the particular way he wishes me to.

I promise to keep you informed as things develop.

When the praying gets tough

During the second world war there was a relatively unknown diarist called Etty Hillesum who had a unique and beautiful style of writing. She spent a great deal of time in the Dutch transit camp of Westerbork where she suffered with her fellow Jews and had to watch train after train full of human beings , including babies, women, the elderly, sick and infirm, get sent to Auschwitz and an "unknown destiny". Etty was also a deeply spiritual person and this love of religion colours her writing and elevates her soul in order that she can cope with what she sees. I found a tragic yet beautiful passage as I was reading her letters the other day and I found the part where she talks about the entrance of some Catholic-Jewish religious in Westerbork. She tells how "There was a remarkable day when the Jewish-Catholics or Catholic-Jews arrived, nuns and priests wearing the yellow stars on their habit."* She describes how one priest had not been out of the monastery for fifteen years "yet his gaze remained unwavering and friendly above the brown habit, as if everything was known, familiar, from long ago"*

Etty had no reason to write this way, most of the people she was writing to had no interest in the Catholic clergy. There is no bias in what she writes yet she is able to convey a beautiful serenity. I think we know it, I think she recognised it as the serenity of grace. Grace in a place where, as you can read in the rest of Etty's letters human suffering is abundant and devastating. Yet together human beings went on , whether Catholic or not just hoping and trying to bear what was happening. She continues that a man tells her:

"he saw some priests walking one behind the other in the dusk between two barracks. They were saying their rosaries as imperturbably as if they had just finished vespers at the monastery"*

I love this idea because it is proof that faith does not die when the sense of humanity in those around you does. People may be persecuting you, may be harming and destroying life all around you but you do not give up. You hold on and Etty asks in her beautiful mystical way :

"And isn't it true one can pray anywhere?"*

This I will try to remember next time I feel that internal call to prayer but tell myself I will pray later when I am less stressed, distracted or busy. Surely these people must be our models for prayer.

Etty died in Auschwitz on November 30th 1943 aged 27. She was proudly Jewish and in the course of the last years of her short life had become a proud lover of God. She took her Talmud and Bible to Auschwitz with her.

*All quotations were taken from Letters from Westerbork, Etty Hillesum, Grafton Books, Uk 1987

Reflections on a quiet morning outside the abortion clinic.

Because I am flying out from Heathrow tomorrow I am staying with my parents so I went to the abortion clinic this morning to pray outside with my Mum.  This clinic, unlike the one closest to my own house on the opposite side of the city,  is BPAS (British Pregnancy Advisory Service).  Marie Stopes (the one closest to my house) and BPAS (the one closest to my parents') are the two largest abortion providers in Britain.  Most of these abortions are government funded - funded by the taxes I pay.  The worst thing about it- and brace yourself for this because it actually hurts me when I think about it- the building used to be a Catholic Convent.  Ouch! It is a huge,  beautiful Victorian building and now it is used for this..

We just stood quietly on the opposite side of the street and prayed our Rosary as a witness.  I find it so hard to watch those girls going in and out -I so want to hep them and stop them causing this pain to themselves and their child.  I looked up at that building I noticed something striking: the psychology of it. I realised I have never stood outside an abortion clinic that doesn't have the blinds down and the curtains drawn in almost every room. In a quiet Liberal Democrat, residential area this seems totally unnecessary unless, somewhere within, you feel what you are doing needs to be hidden. It was an empty street on a Thursday morning, a side street at that - rain rather than sun - why hide? That got me thinking about the parallels to Nazi concentration camps- the attempts to sanitise everything and keep the realities from prying eyes. To keep people asleep to the realities because what they don't see can't hurt them.  It was also interesting how everybody going in did so with their head down and rung the doorbell impatiently while they waited a short time as though they were anxious not to be seen.  It wasn't us bothering them - we were just two people standing on a street. I think they felt, even on a subconscious level, that they did not want to be associated with this place or what was happening there.

The thing is there is hope in this because what we can hope that peoples' consciences will one day open their eyes to what is right.  Nothing is impossible for God.  Sometimes we seem to have come so far from our centre of morality that we can perceive no way back. Yet there must be a way back -as with ideologies of the past- as long as there is prayer.

Confessions of a reluctant grace seeker

I had a beautiful experience in confession today (don't worry I'm not about to recount my sins - I fount that hard enough the first time around). Why am I telling you this? Well because my confession to you is that I find confession the hardest of the sacraments (though bear in mind I am not married, will obviously never be ordained and have never had the last rites). The reason I find it hardest is because I don't think I'm very good at it and rather than going more to overcome this I avoid it. I am ashamed of this but it is the truth.  I love the graces I receive from this sacrament - I love the way it lifts the heart and humbles you with a kind of fresh awareness of what forgiveness really means but I am weak and often this is not enough to induce me. 

Nevertheless, in search of that beauty and grace which I so love to receive I do crawl out from under my rock from time to time and make myself go. The last time I went, I had a slightly rocky experience as I went into the box just before mass and because the priest was in a rush he let me say one thing and then said he was going to absolve me and chucked me out (I was just warming up!)  

So you can imagine my confusion when I couldn't even get into the Cathedral and found the whole place in flux- turned out a university graduation was taking place inside (?) and the cathedral would not be open until 4pm. I was flummoxed - having built myself up to go I was rather disappointed.  Then I caught sight of signs pointing me in the direction of offices belonging to the Cathedral where confessions were taking place.

By the time I had traipsed around the corner I had lost a bit of courage. I like the safety of a confessional box (yet another shameful confession to you dear readers) so I waited in line outside an ordinary room a little nervously.  

However, a far cry from my last experience the priest listened and responded with a thought provoking tenderness.  He made me very aware of how many great priests serve us in our Church - something I do take for granted in my life.  The experience was one of humility, love and forgiveness and it made it very clear to me (as if my conscience didn't already know it) that I need this sacrament so much in my life. It keeps us in touch with that redemption and forgiveness that comes with the nails of the cross. It makes us more aware of our own part, hard as it might be to accept, in the passion of Christ. Yet it makes us equally aware of all the love and mercy that is shed with the blood and our personal relationship with Christ illuminates the point that this love and mercy belongs to us- on an intimate and personal level. It is trust. I feel privileged to be subject to this trust - that is to trust in the infinite mercy and to be trusted to amend my ways with a contrite heart. I am weak, but when I recognise my weakness I am strong (to paraphrase St Paul)

At the end of my confession, after absolution the priest in question asked if he might bless me with a relic of St Paul of the Cross. Of course I eagerly said yes (I can't imagine anybody said no!) So I thought I would end by leaving you with the words of Pius IX on the beatification of St Paul on October 1st 1952:

"Although continually occupied with the cares of governing his religious society, and of founding everywhere new houses for it, yet he never left off preaching the word of God, burning as he did with a wondrous desire for the salvation of souls"  

His relic seems to be a fitting one to use in confession. I am sure that he won't have given up his mission just because he has reached heaven. St Paul pray for us! is certainly an invocation I will remember next time I am tapping my foot in line for confession - which I hope will be sooner rather than later.

There, in the midst of them

I was just procrastinating and found these photos of a Church I visited in Zanzibar which is built on the former sight of a slave market. The alter rests on the place where slaves were sold, often into deep misery. It is built directly above cramped cells where hundreds of slaves 'waited' for their turn to come in cramped and filthy conditions.

When the slave trade was abolished an Anglican Bishop thought the most apt use for this ground would be to build a Church. I agree. This Christian church is a sign of solidarity with all the nameless and forgotten who have been subjected to terrible sufferings at the hands of other men in this world. It is difficult when thinking in these terms not to consider abortion, that great evil and persecution of our ow time, justified with the similar cry: 'this is not a human being...not a proper one'

This church is a place of hope and triumph, a recognition that evil does exist and can be overcome but not without, hard work, prayer and patience.

Walking around those cells where slaves suffered so terribly is a reminder of the unseen and constant suffering that Christ must have been struck by. To harm another human being in this way is to wound Christ himself. This is the burden we carry now with regard to the unborn.

I think every time I encounter a place such as this, an abortion clinic, Auschwitz, the cells of these slaves, it becomes clear to me how they are all tied together in one heavy knot. When we abandon our humanity we abandon the ability to recognise humanity in others, especially the fragile, vulnerable and weak. When we become arrogant we move further from God because it is not the superior, the powerful or the materially minded He is in the midst of -it is the forsaken and forgotten. It they who remain closest to Him but that doesn't make it their persecution right.

As John Paul II said- 'we must forgive but by the same token we must not forget'. Our witness must be to those who have not got the power to speak for themselves, our hope must be to abolish the injustice that weighs down the hearts and minds of man. Our job must be to see the humanity in others in order that they might come to see it in themselves. Our job must be to love, even in the midst of hate.

Your prayers reaching the grotto

I just wanted to let you all know that your prayers were placed in the intentions box at the grotto, just in front of the source of the spring Bernadette dug today. I also remembered you all at the baths.

Look out for photographic evidence of your petitions at the grotto- coming soon!

Tomorrow is the 130th anniversary of Bernadette's death and I hope to be at the grotto where she first experienced the love of Our Blessed Mother. I continue to pray for you all and all your intentions.

We are the Easter people and hallelujah is our song.

He is risen! And so has my heart after a beautiful vigil mass in which it seemed almost possible to touch the invisible that is always so close to us. It is a great thing to know we are loved.

I am up late preparing for pilgrimage to Lourdes early on Monday morning and right now I am procrastinating by writing this post. I think I am going to give up and go to sleep. I just thought that before I packed all of them I would let those who gave me petitions see that their prayers are starting their little journey with me (only a few of the envelopes are shown as I have already packed the others- also pictured is my trusty rucksack which has been  with me for about six years now and has travelled wherever I have). 

Anyway, your petitions and I are flying Ryan Air which I have never flown before (I know I have said it before but I'm going to say it again - I hate flying!). Ryan Air are cheap and cheerful - I am placing myself in the hands of our blessed mother even before I reach Lourdes - on a pointless point of information I am actually flying to Pau and then getting the train to Lourdes.

I have three more things to say before I go to sleep and my brain is no longer functioning so I am going to write them as a list:

1. If anyone has any other last minute petitions then its not too late - email me or pop them in the comment box as soon as you can.

2. I am taking you all with me on my little pilgrimage and will offer prayers for you all at the little grotto

3 HAPPY EASTER!!!!! I am hoping to write a little Easter Sunday post tomorrow but in case I don't have time I will say it now. Thank you for sharing your Lenten journeys with me and I thank you truly for sharing in mine.

God Bless!

TAKING YOUR PETITIONS TO LOURDES - a simple offer

In two weeks time I have the very great privilege of being able to visit Lourdes once again. My family have made this possible for me as my birthday is coming up and its quite a big one. So off I will go on my little budget flight and I was wondering if I could do something for all of you on this trip. I have to admit I haven't quite worked out the finer details of this plan but- as some will know -within the grotto there is a petitions box where pilgrims can place their prayers directly in front of the miraculous spring. I wanted to ask if anyone would like me to take specific prayers and place them at the grotto for them - this is where the difficult part comes in so if this is something that you would be interested in I have three options:

1. Leave your petition in the comment box and I will print it off,  place in an envelope and take it to the grotto.

2. Email your petitions to my blog email address dreamersday.blog@googlemail.com and I will print them off and seal them tightly in an envelope - be assured that once printed they will be deleted and that I will not read through them. 

3. If it is something personal you can email me to ask for a postal address, send me your petitions and I give you my word that I will not open them but to place them straight in the box at the grotto 

There is two weeks until departure so should you think of anything up till that point then just let me know in whatever way suits you.

I am not sure there will be any takers on this one and of course prayers to Our Lady of Lourdes are just as powerful wherever you are in the world. I will take you all in my heart and pray for you all at the grotto regardless. However, if there is anything special or specific I wanted to offer this - it is the very least I could think to do for people who give so much to others by sharing a little of themselves. You can see the petition box in the video of the grotto below. Blessings to you all as we enter the final stage of Lent

Birkenau (Auschwitz II)

Birkenau was the main extermination camp where over a million people were murdered. It was a place that affected me incredibly deeply. In Birkenau it is what you feel and not what you see that has an impact on you. It is a huge space and again, it speaks of those that we may consider forgotten but it is clear the earth remembers. Birds sing on the perimeters of the camp but they will not enter it. They do not even fly across it. It felt to me the closest thing to a garden of olives.

(left watchtowers surrounding the camp)
I jotted down the following when I returned from

the camp and I think it is enough. I hope it gives you some sense of my experiences:

Desolation. In Auschwitz Birkenau the vocabulary of death has silenced any sound or trace of life. It has become nothingness. A vast expanse; a gaping wound that bleeds anguish into the world. The empty watchtowers, the silent barracks, the stacks of bricks that stand as isolated monuments stretching back across this space of barren loneliness and finally the imploded gas chambers. There is no noise. Only emptiness; an emptiness where life once was. This is the emptiness of loss. (above, the train tracks which brought transports into the camp from across Europe)

Now only the silence speaks here but it is louder than any sound. It is the unanswered cries of those eradicated. It is the answer that never came. Yet somehow those calls have been translated, they cry still- not in sound but in the sheer burden here. It is a hole; it is too wide and too great to ever be filled; not even nature which flitters around the edges will enter. It watches from on the peripheral.

Echoes. Only fleeting echoes live in this place. The echoes of the past and the echoed footsteps of the present. The footsteps which try to retrace become echoes of those that faded into silence on the steps of the gas chambers.The voices which try to remember become echoes of testimonies; echoes of the voices that spoke here and were absorbed into silence when their mouths were stopped.

(To the left - the unloading platform where families were separated on arrival and selections were made for the gas chambers.)

The prayers we say for the dead as it grows dark create the loudest echo and one hopes that in this deafening silence this is the part that never went unheard. The echoes of those prayers said under this blanket of darkness in this desolate place. The echoes of words spoken between man and God. A deep mystery.

I wanted my students to come here to connect with what was done but we found much more than this. We found ourselves connecting with what it is possible to do. Destruction in its purest form. An attempt not only to destroy the physical but to decimate even the smallest tenderness that exists in man.

This will always be without success for God has touched the heart of man and evil has devoured itself here.

(The imploded gas chambers)

As it grows colder and darker the echoing Hebrew calls back to the silence.

We heard you. We hear you. We witness.

(Left, a photograph brought to Auschwitz by a prisoner - it would have been taken from them upon arrival along with everything else they owned)

This is our answer. Where the Nazis tried to destroy we return to remember and as we walk in the pitch black along the railway tracks that brought people to their death we leave with life. We leave imbued with the talking silence and the suffering- in the hope that our echoes might go out into the world and remind that life, in all its forms is precious. That what life you take will be a heavy blow to the earth - even if that blow is not heard. It will be felt. It will make our souls tremble in years to come. Let us always recognise humanity in others no matter their size or dependency. Let us never be given over to this destruction. Let us stand firm in love.

Third Apparition and Bernadette's Feastday

I know its still the 17th where many of my dear readers live but here its tipped over into the 18th here and that means two things:

1. It is the 151st anniversary of the third apparition of Our Lady to Bernadette at the grotto. It was also the first apparition at which Our Lady spoke (OUR LADY OF LOURDES - A BLESSED DAY TO YOU

ALL!, Inspiration on a Monday - Bernadette's Journey, WOOPS! Forgot to post on the second apparition 14th of February)

2. It is Bernadette's official feast day (although interestingly there is disagreement over this because many outside of France celebrate it on the 16th of April- the date of her death) At Lourdes both are recognised - good enough for me! So it will be on my little blog.

1. The third apparition would be the one which would set the course of Bernadette's life. Having prayed the Rosary together the two young women were now ready to converse. Mary would make a request of this simple teenage girl from a small village just as the Angel Gabriel did of her 2000 years before. Bernadette, with a humilityand acceptance which emanated her heavenly mother would accept the Lady's promises with love and trust and return to the grotto knowing that happiness would not be hers in this life if she did - that was the level of her faith in the next life. The account that follows is in Bernadette's own words:

"The third time was the following Thursday. The Lady only spoke to me the third time. I went to the grotto with a few matured people, who advised me to take paper and ink, an

d to ask her, if she had anything to say to me, to have the goodness to put it on paper. I said these words to the Lady. She smiled and said that it was not necessary for her to write what she had to say to me, but asked if I would do her the favour of coming for a fortnight. I told her that I would. She told me also that she did not promise to make me happy in this world, but in the next."

2. A brief celebration of Bernadette's beautiful but often difficult life - it was made beautiful simply by her choices and by her simplicity. Even now, many years after Bernadette's death I have found the places she touched to have a silent, mysterious serenity to them. Yet they are so unremarkable to look at that you could easily pass them by without even noticing. Simplicity.

The Boly Mill - The Boly Mill was where Bernadette had spent most of her childhood with the exception of a couple of brief periods when she stayed with her Aunt at Bartres. The Mill had come to her father through marriage but a combination of the Industrial Revolution and the fact that the Soubirous family were so generous that they often allowed customers to take what they produced on trust meant they lost the mill.

The Cachot

This former prison cell was where the Soubirous' were forced to retreat to after the loss of their Mill. The six Soubirous' lived and prayed in this one small room and it was this ceiling Bernadette slept beneath during the visits. It was also a place of love where, long before the visions the parents and children could be heard reciting the Rosary together.

The Grotto

The grotto - where it all happened and where you can feel it still.

Bernadette saw Our Lady eighteen times in 1858

The Hospice

After the visions Bernadette, suffering a great deal as always with severe asthma which left her unable to breathe, added to by the exhaustion caused by constant harassment from people now filling Lourdes, was taken to the Hospice of the Sisters of Nevers. She was admitted, by her own request, as a destitute- Bernadette wished to remain poor. Even though she remained in Lourdes at this point, being separated from her family saddened her. Bernadette was also subjected to constant visits and scrutiny from visitors to the hospice. She would often weep before being sent out to retell her visions to yet more curious inquisitors. Yet she was always gentle and polite towards them never revealing her pain and frustration.

However, there were some joys here for Bernadette and in the Hospice chapel (left) she finally made her first communion - a moment of true happiness for her. It had been something she longed for.

Nevers

Bernadette left for Nevers aged 22, she would never see her parents again and it would be

thirteen years before any of her siblings saw her. She knew she could never return to Lourdes and the grotto where she had seen a little of Heaven. She brought with her very little (her bag and umbrella can be seen to the left). Here she would live and suffer as a nun. Her Novice Mistress would cause her much unhappiness and she would gradually find her body deteriorating around her lively, joyful soul.

Death but NOT the end

Bernadette died on April 16th 1879 and was buried in the small chapel of St Joseph- she would not stay in this place however (which can be seen to the left) Having been exhumed three times and found to be intact Bernadette was permanently placed in the main convent chapel in 1925 where she can be seen today (see below) On this day when she was told she would not be happy in this life there seems to be much evidence that she is now exulting in the next with the same young woman she met at that Grotto in Lourdes.

St Bernadette, you promised you would forget no one; on this, one of your feastdays, please pray for us!

for video of Bernadette's body see:

From Lourdes to Nevers

Inspiration on a Monday - Bernadette's Journey

In two days time we celebrate the 11th of February which is the Feast of Our Lady of Lourdes. It also marks the first apparition of Our Lady to Bernadette. John Paul II made this day the World day of the sick. Our Lady appeared in a silent apparition on this day as Bernadette gathered firewood at the 'pigs grotto'. She felt a wind blow over her and turned to see a lady in white with a blue sash, a yellow rose between each foot in a niche in the rock. She knelt and tried to make the sign of the cross but she could not until the vision she would later call Aquiro made the sign. No one, how ever hard they tried would be able to imitate the sign of the cross the way Bernadette made it for the rest of her life because of what she saw and was taught that day at the grotto. Our Lady would appear another seventeen times to the little girl who knelt before her that day.

Bernadette would pray the rosary with her many more times but the lady (or Aquiro) would only join in when Bernadette prayed the Our Father and Glory Be. The rest of the time she would follow silently on her beads.

For the last two years I have been fortunate enough to be at the grotto on the 11th of February. This year I can't be there because the school holiday is a week later. I will go there in my heart. When Bernadette was in the convent at Nevers she said that she clung to the rock of her grotto and, thanks to her simple beauty and her wish to be true to the message of the Lady, that is what I, like millions of others, do too. I look forward to her feast day with joy in my heart for there are so many graces to be received. The miracle of serenity.

Prayer by St Bernadette

How happy my soul was, good mother, when I had the good fortune to gaze upon you!

How I love to recall the pleasant moments spent under your gaze, so full of kindness and mercy for us.

Yes, tender Mother, you stooped down to earth to appear to a mere child.

You, the Queen of Heaven and Earth chose to use what is weakest in the eyes of men.

O Mary, give the precious virtue of humility to she who dares to call herself your child.

O loving Mother, help your child to resemble you in everything and every way.

In a word, grant that I may be a child according to your heart and
the heart of your dear son.

Amen

Related posts: FROM BARTRES, Prayer of a poor beggar, From Lourdes to Nevers, VIRTUAL LOURDES

Prodigal prayers

Sometimes for no particular rhyme or reason prayer can suddenly become a bit stunted or dry . It is not that the heart isn't willing but anything I try to say or do somehow falls a little flat or lacks meaning or strength...or both- like in Matthew's Gospel where Jesus talks about the pagans babbling- that was very much my feeling over the last few days. Maximum babble minimum output. I've had a few days 'dry spell' this week when you know what you want to say or how you want to pray but it just doesn't quite come off. Suddenly this morning the drought seems to have lifted. I don't know what happened or why but its nice to return a little sheepishly (excuse the pun) to the fold. I do feel somewhat prodigal because when you feel unable to reach the truth that lies in prayer the world does change a little and it highlights how little I do for God in the first place but how important even that little time is(I have to confess that I do not devote enough time to prayer I am too selfish and I make the same excuses about time that I guess most people do) . Perhaps the reason for these spells are they make you grateful for the gift of prayer, this unique communication which feeds life. Perhaps it is to make you realise what a difference prayer makes to each day. Perhaps, it is to stop you getting comfortable and make you search a little harder or deeper. Perhaps it is to make you realise that prayer is always something you should be working on developing and that, like most things, it is a grace. Perhaps it is to teach you a lesson that will not be revealed for a little time to come. Anyway, in my dry spell I have discovered some excellent sources to aid prayer(or prayer boosters). Here are a couple of my favourites:

I bought this book a little while ago and while it may initially seem to be a little heavy going it is full of stories of people living out their life according to the Gospels which are uplifting and beautiful. John Paul's message 'Do not be afraid' is very much alive in each of these people. Also, it is a wonderful way of getting in touch with the world Church and includes information about the modern Church in all corners of the world- which is enough to astound. It is the kind of book that you don't have to read cover to cover- you can simply open it and the likelihood is you will find something to inspire you and make you thankful to be part of this beautiful institution that, at its best, is so full of forgiveness and unconditional love.







At the weekend I watched Rick Larson's presentation on the Star of Bethlehem and it took my breath away. I am sure many in America have seen this film but it wasn't released in the UK so I had to order it and wait for it to arrive. It was worth it though. I was utterly humbled by it- just being reminded how tiny we really are made me astonished but that is small cheese compared to what is on offer from this guy. Larson has come up with a pretty plausible theory about what the Bethlehem Star was and how solid scripture is surrounding this event. He delves deeply into the old testament and concludes that the star was a real event long foretold. There are a few astounding surprises and revelations that I won't spoil for you but it really is great stuff!



This book is a collection of letters from the founder of the L'Arche communities for the mentally handicapped. Vanier is a man of true humility and beauty. He writes about his encounters with not only the wonderful human beings who make up his community and how they have transformed his life but encounters and friendships with some of the other spiritual giants of our era - Mother Teressa and John Paul II to name but a few. He can see through the veneer of our age to the true value of life and optimism in our world. Again, one you can dip into for a little inspiration.




Hopefully, I'm not on my own with this one. Nevertheless regardless of prayer status I think the above are woth a look and wanted to share. Happy praying everyone - here's to less babble more communication (I hope!).

A morning at the abortion centre

It is not easy to write about what I have witnessed today and even though it is not the first time I have seen it, it does not make it easier to watch. I spent this morning quietly praying outside an abortion clinic with a group of pro-lifers while, on the other side of the street, 'pavement counsellors' offered to speak with women as they entered the 'clinic'. By the admission of the friars who organise these vigils it was a 'busy' morning. Nothing is ever simple about abortion or the circumstances of the people entering the centres. The only word I can think of is devastation. The counsellors do not harass the mothers, simply offer them the opportunity to talk and if the mother agrees they listen compassionately and try to present the other side of the story as best they can.

Many things happened today some of them uplifting, some of them heart wrenching and all of them requiring, if you are able and willing, your prayer. It is a clumsy way to write but the only way I can think to organise this entry is to break it down into subheadings of events so that it will be easier for me to convey and hopefully for you to get an overview of everything that occurred to the soundtrack of our prayer. I don't know why I feel it is so important that I try and tell you these details but I know that it is important so thank you for reading.

The staff

This is the first time that I have joined the group at this particular centre and the first thing that struck me about it was the irritation of the staff. At other clinics I have been to the staff have let us get on quietly while they ignored us. Today two of the staff came and stood directly opposite us outside the clinic for the entire time we were outside which was most of the morning (we stay on the other side of the road since it is a very narrow British road). We aim to keep far enough away to let the pavement counsellors work but close enough to be a visible witness for the unborn. We never approach anyone or interfere. There is no reason for them to be threatened but they were clearly angry with us. Every time a woman about to enter the clinic walked up the road they would try to rush her in so the counsellors couldn't speak to her and she would not see our placards of unborn children. When no one was coming the two women would stand staring at us with defiance, sometimes they would crack a joke or laugh. They wanted us to know they didn't care. However, if they really didn't care they wouldn't be standing out there in the freezing cold in the first place.

Abortion is big business they were worried we might disrupt their income . Perhaps they also believe they are protecting the rights of women. Their faces were so hard and angry when they caught our gaze. When I was a bit younger, in my teens, I would have felt angry right back out them. Now I feel an overwhelming sadness for them because if they think that leading women up the steps to that place (and I watched them lead a lot of women today) is protecting their dignity they have been horribly misguided and, in a strange way, wronged.

Please pray for them and all those who work in clinics believing they are justified and right to do so.
May bitterness and anger never have the last word

The Police

The police, a supposedly neutral force, were required to be present to ensure that both 'sides' co-exist peacefully. They were not neutral, don't get me wrong they were competent and pleasant in escorting us, but at the clinic they stood on the other side of the road with the staff and laughed and joked with them. They allied themselves closely with the nurses. They treated us rather more distantly and did not stay close to us. When we were back at the church we thanked them for escorting us and they were cold.

Please pray that those who aim to defend life will be treated with dignity and fairness by those who do not understand or sympathise with our values.

The dog walker

As I have attended vigils, rallies or protests about abortion over the years I have got used to being shouted at and openly verbally abused. I was always told that this is a hopeful sign because this anger is a reaction to the knowledge their soul instinctively has- this is wrong! We only had one case of that today but the reason I bring it up is because it was a poignant example of how abortion affects women.

The woman in question was in her late fifties and walking her dogs, she started shouting across the road at us and then progressed to yelling expletives. As she moved down the road one of the counsellors asked her gently if she would like to take a leaflet and she began to verbally abuse the counsellor. However, the counsellor stayed calm and gave our perspective about the life of the child and showed the leaflet with the stages of development on it.

It transpired that this woman was pro-choice because she herself had an abortion at the same type of clinic as this. The counsellor asked if this might be why she was so angry; she was not angry with us- she was still angry about her abortion and being reminded of it caused her pain.

She gave the counsellor her name and agreed to take a leaflet with a contact for proper post-abortion counselling . I think this was a big breakthrough for her. She also gave her name in order that we could pray for her- she does not believe in God - but never mind I am sure he believes in her!

Please pray for Carol (the woman in question) and all women, all mothers, affected by abortion.
May bitterness and anger never have the last word.

The Women

It would be easy to write something the length of a book about the women I watched walk up the steps to that place today and to talk about the expression on the faces of women leaving. Some were with boyfriends, others clearly with friends and some young girls were obviously being marched in there with parents; bewilderment and distress on their faces- still just children themselves.

Pray for all women, all mothers, who abort their children
Pray for all women who abort their children under duress from parents or partners
Pray for those who enter into willingly abortion

The Family

This is the hardest thing that I saw happen today. I don't even know how to recount it but I will try. A woman arrived with her partner and began speaking with the counsellor. It became clear that the woman's boyfriend did not want his partner to have the abortion- they already had two children. They talked with the counsellor. The women went in BUT a few minutes later she came back. She spoke with the counsellor again. Things seemed to be going better. She said she no longer wanted the abortion and he partner was relieved BUT she needed to go back and tell them she would not be taking up her appointment.

She never came back out of the clinic. When she went back in the staff in the convinced her that she did want the abortion after all. She phoned her husband on her mobile to tell him "I'm sorry I'm going up" by which she meant "up" to have the abortion carried out.

Please pray for all families torn apart apart by abortion.
Please pray for all vulnerable mother's preyed upon those who promote the culture of death.

The ray of hope - LOTS OF PRAYERS NEEDED

After that story it might be easy to become downcast but there was so much grace to be felt in the prayer today and this was increased by a chance encounter. A man pulled over in a van and asked one of the counsellors for help. His girlfriend is due to have an abortion next Friday but he so wants her to have their baby. He asked for all the information he could get. The counsellor told him everything he could, gave him lots of literature and told him we would pray. So.....

Please pray for Darren and Jessica, that Jessica will turn away from abortion and realise the humanity and beauty of her little child.

The Babies

I am aware of the death of fifteen babies today. I stood outside the building and prayed while these children's lives were taken legally and silently. The world carried on around us none the wiser. This was just one clinic. This afternoon I went to central London to Westminster Cathedral and somehow everything seemed a little absurd-people out having a great time in this big, heaving city so unaware. How can the events of this morning happen each day and everyone be so oblivious?

It is because the unborn are easily disposed of. They have no voice and no way to make their cry heard. So let that be our job. (See earlier post for text on this WITH A LITTLE BIT OF GRACE - FOCA )

Please pray for the little children who were murdered so quietly today behind the closed doors and rolled down blinds of abortion clinics.

Please pray for all those babies at risk of having their lives snatched from them through abortion.

Please pray that our laws will prevent these deaths and reveal the true meaning of respect
-for life
-for child
-for mother

A linked post which will tell you a little about my families experiences WALKING THE WALK - CHOOSING LIFE