The Vatican Visitor’s Office is located just a stones throw away from the Trevi Fountain. When we arrived we were greeted by Sister Maria. Sister Maria led us to the small office and handed me the four tickets for the audience with the Pope for the following day. Father Brad, a young priest from Michigan was hearing confession. This was a special blessing, because I had a lot of venial sins I needed to rid myself of.  As I walked in, Father Brad was sitting on an over stuffed blue brocade velvet chair. Father Brad motioned with his hand for me to sit down. The room looked more like a cozy living area than a confessional. I sat on a worn out faded green couch to the right of Father Brad.  I confessed my sins, and right when I thought all my sins were divulged, the Holy Spirit quicken my mind about my great disappointment toward the Pope.  As the holy priest closed his eyes, he articulated his words almost as if he was having mystical visions when he spoke. Father Brad’s kind, gentle words absolved me of my anger.

This confession was most important to help me continue the journey in peace. This peace made a great difference in my spirit as I was indifferent about seeing the Pope the following day. There was no excitement, but thanks to the confession, instead of enmity, my mood shifted to empathy.

My righteous anger was in check the morning of the audience. We left in plenty of time to secure good seats. I had all of my Holy items, plus water from Lourdes for the papal blessing. I told Helen to get ready with her iPhone so she could get a good shot of the Pope. I sat back and watched as others yelled with excitement, I thought how two years ago I was just as elated, rushing the crowd to get the best frame. Sadly not today, something was off, and as the Pope passed by, I held the button on my iPhone, taking several shots. I saw the Pope as a man, a regular man through great mercy. I overheard a conversation of two English-speaking women saying, “I feel different, don’t you? She asked her companion.” I too felt different but not like them, they were blessed, I felt sadness.

The message from the Pope was encouraging on this particular Wednesday. Pope Francis elaborated about the importance of marriage, and how to make love the focal point in a relationship. My heart was distracted, and as much as tried to follow, the Pope’s words were lost in translation, not because of the language, but because of heaviness I was feeling for our Church.

The other pilgrims were more gracious and as I concentrated on their excitement, and I wondered if one day this feeling would return.

I loved seeing young married couples dressed in their wedding attire, waiting to get a special blessing for the start of their sacramental union. This restored hope in my heart. Recalling words of wisdom that Father Brad shared, “The Holy Spirit will always be in charge of our Catholic Church and God will always be her protector not man.”

The following morning we visited St. Lawrence outside the walls. A young matted hair girl sat at the steps of the basilica with her frail hand extended for alms, both Mike and Larry obliged.

This basilica is simple, and yet beautiful. We stopped and prayed at the confessio where St. Lawrence, St. Steven and,  Justin are all buried. These saints were all martyred for their belief.

I recently discovered The Holy Cross in Jerusalem at our last visit to Rome. It is walking distance from St. John Lateran.  St. Helena, Contestine’s mother reverently brought treasures of relics from Jerusalem. You can feel the anointing as soon as you step into basilica. Wood from Jesus’s cross, a nail from the cross, St. Thomas’s finger, the sign written in three languages reading: “Jesus King of The Jews.” and a thorn from our Lord’s crown, are all preserved there.

We traveled along the Appian Way, the same route that The Apostle Paul took to reach Rome before his trial. We reached St. Sebastian Church, and walked through the damp, claustrophobic catacombs 30 feet underground making our way up the basilica. St. Sebastian was martyred during the persecution of the Christian and his body is also in this basilica.

On every trip that I’ve taken, there is always that person that takes charge, and knows exactly what to do. Almost as if our guardian angels are asked to step aside, these people take over. On this trip both Mike and Helen did all the work, they were the agents that knew all the right roads to take, how to use a credit card at the gas station, how to pay the tolls, and how to get to the right gates. Larry and I just watched in amazement, and smiled, reading each others minds saying, “Thank God I don’t have to do that!” Thank you Mike and Helen for your servanthood, we weary travelers appreciate all that you do.

When I left the Catholic Church for a season, I abandoned Mary and the Rosary as well. Converting to the Protestant faith, it was all Jesus or you were still considered sitting on the fence. I had no idea that I was in training for the apologetics of my Catholic roots.

As we walked through the Prado Museum and the glorious splendor of thousands of artist capturing “The Pieta” or “The Passion of Christ, Mary is always in the paintings.  The agony depicted by so many like “The Descent From The Cross” by Van  der Weyden, cannot deny her powerful presence, for she is always in her humble state, gentle Mary would never draw the attention away of her Son Jesus.

We leave beautiful Madrid for a short flight to Toulouse, France and drive two hours to Lourdes.

Last night’s procession in Lourdes brought me closer to Mary. The night skies were lit with an full moon shyly covered with a thin sheet of clouds, as the small village dims it’s lights at nine o’clock for the powerful phenomenon. Before the procession we made our way to the side of my favorite basilica where Bernadette Soubirous had her first encounter with “The Lady With The Rosary.”  From the first spring of water that St. Bernadette dug, my prayers came like a rushing wind of revelation. One person’s face led to another and another, I had images of persons that normally are not on my radar and prayed for their needs.

My heart was filled with joy experiencing the thousands of pilgrims who carried their candles through the village main square. The church’s pipe organ filled the crisp fall air with songs to our Lady of Lourdes. A tall statue of our Lady led the worshippers along the small town square, and just as she does today, Mary leads us to her only begotten Son Jesus. The Rosary was prayed in so many languages, and a French version of the song  Immaculate Mary elevated me to another spiritual realm. I prayed for those that have lost their way, and asked that through the intercession of Mary that they would be guided back. My heart was overwhelmed with the dark blemish of sin brought on by culpable priests, and I asked that all sin be exposed and that God’s heavy hand of judgement come down upon them. I prayed for all the victims to be healed of their mental afflictions.

How holy are you Lord to bring us to you through the love of your Mother. We need you more than ever.

If you follow my Blog, I have written about the two healings that both Mike and I have experienced in Lourdes. Mike’s knee was completely restored and after my diagnosis of Parkinson’s,  I too received a total healing during a pilgrimage with my lay ministry.

As Helen and I waited patiently for our turn in the baths. A French volunteer informed us that they would be closing the grotto at 11 and that it would not be  reopened until 2. It was 10:15 a.m. when we formed the line, so at the mercy of God we waited.

Just Like the lines in any the men’s restroom, both Mike and Larry were in and out of the baths in no time.  Helen and I had time to get our prayers in order before being dipped into the holy waters.

If we are Facebook friends, I prayed for you. With 3 hours of waiting, I pressed through with the intercession. For Silvia, a beautiful 24 year-old fighting for her life with cancer, for  Glenda, Carol, Guity, women from my ministry,  I prayed for your miracle healing. For Rose and Betty, our prayers went before the Lord for their restoration of health. For my family and extended family, I prayed for your special needs as well as those of my friends.

When it was time for our holy experience we were escorted into a space separated by blue and white striped canvas drapes. No time is wasted, as French volunteers help disrobe you. We are then quickly shrouded  into a navy blue cloak. Lastly, we are led into another section where three women help prepare you for the bath. As I made my way through another set of drapes , I felt the natural stone flooring cold water on my feet. As the drapes opened, I noticed two of the volunteers ringing a white sheet and then they quickly and tightly wrapped my freezing cold body into it. I took two steps into the frigid water and sat in it for a few seconds and said my prayers. The two ladies helped me out of the water, while the third volunteer wrapped me back into the original cloak. No towels for drying off, but a quick rush to getting me dressed. While I slipped on my turtleneck, my shoes and socks were put on by the same kind volunteer that helped disrobe me. By the time I waited the few minutes for Helen, my soaking body was completely dry.

Do not expect Lourdes to cater to your needs. The town closes at 3 and wakes up again 6. The population of Lourdes is 15,000 but they receive over 5 million pilgrims a year. The food is fresh and the service outstanding but it lacks in flavor. The bread is always the best, and in Lourdes man can eat by bread alone.

My toe, that has been my cross for the last three years, joined forces with the smaller toe to add to the agony of  my every step. My complaints fell on deaf ears, as no wanted to hear it any longer. Lourdes is a village on the foothills on the Pyrenees Mountains, so we are either going uphill or downhill, needless to say the town is a paradox, bringing me to both great joy and pain.

May the Good Lord Bless You!

About this time last year I received a phone call from my cousin Leo. Leo was getting married to Susie on October 13, 2018. This would be Leo’s first marriage, linking him to his long-time companion of over 10 years. Leo is 70 years old.

I could never forget this date because this is one of the dates that the Blessed Mother appeared to the Children in Fatima, Portugal. October 13th is also the birthday of our grandson Lucas, who turned nine years old.

On the day of the wedding I tried on several different outfits and walked downstairs for Mike’s opinion. With one quick glance, Mike gave me a thumbs up. Note to self: Never ask a man for wardrobe advice while he’s watching football.

As we were driving to San Bernardino, Mike asked me to put the address into the navigation system of my car. I had no idea that the car was equipped with this device. I pressed every single button until a map of the 91 Freeway popped up. At that point a voice from hell led us to exit every single street off the freeway. In a panic, and with Mike raising his voice to “Shut the thing off!” I pushed all the buttons again, but to no avail. Mike finally exited the freeway to get gas in a scary part of town, and to silence the voice of the navigational device. Nothing worked;  even when we turned on the radio, the music was interrupted by an eerie cry telling us to exit. We were so preoccupied with the commotion that we arrived early to the wedding.

The Elks Club is located high on a hill in San Bernardino.  The city’s flickering light added to the romance of my cousin’s wedding. As we walked in we were warmly greeted by Delia, our oldest female cousin and sister to Leo. We selected an empty table dressed in an array of fall colors, near the dance floor. We waited for other cousins to join us. The San Diego clan arrived: Nellie G., Roxie and my 90-year-old Tia Esperanza, then my cousin Ricky, his wife Maria and my 94-year-old Tia Maria.  My Tia Maria is the last of the Lopez Family, and we make it a point to try to visit her often.

You are never too old to say,”I do” to the one you love. Leo and Susie looked very content, and we were all blessed to be part of the most important day of their lives.

We are a large extended family, as my mother comes from a family of 10, which produced 52 first cousins. To see many of my cousins in an environment of celebration was heartwarming. I have not danced like this in quite some time. Mike had several of my cousins dancing with us as well. We danced to Chubby Checker’s “The Twist,” we danced the Jerk, along with the “Wooly Bully,” and “Night Fever” by the Bee Gees.  My cousins Nellie P. and Elvia jitterbugged like they did when they were young girls. My adorable cousin Sandra got so overheated on the dance floor that she wore a menu around her waist and pulled it out, using it as a fan in order to cool herself off. My Tia Esperanza danced with her daughters and put us all to shame. I pray that when I am 90 years old I can still shake a leg the way she did.

With my hair soaked from all the dance moves, at 10:30 Mike announced that it was time to go home. I walked out of the hall dancing, saying my good-byes as we left.

As soon as we backed up the car, the navigation device started again; this weird voice was telling us to exit. This was driving me crazy, so I asked Mike to please make it stop, but nothing would shut the system down. I tried to drown out the voice by mentally singing different songs in my head, but this made me feel even crazier. As the 45-minute drive home was a torment, I finally gave in and surrendered the commotion  to God. I hated my new car and wanted to trade it in as soon as possible. I reminded  Mike that I had to teach a class of Catechumens Sunday morning, and that I was hoping this problem could be resolved by then. Mike fixed the annoyance, but never again will I use the navigation in the Prius.

Ecclesiastic 3:1-4

Everything Has Its Time

3 For everything there is a season, and a time for every matter under heaven: