As international travel remains disrupted by the pandemic; most of my communication with family between England and the Philippines is through skype these days where we share stories ‘over the ether’.
My Dad shared a real gem the other day from a pilgrimage to Lourdes in the 1950’s. It began in the foothills of the Pyrenees on horseback where most of the pilgrim group (a.k.a ‘the faint hearted’) used the bridge to cross the river, Dad’s trusty steed (a distant relative of Pegasus himself) showed him the shortcut and horse and rider plunged into the icy melt waters. Historically this began a now long and consistent family tradition of death-defying equestrian misadventure. But the real drama of the trip was yet to unfold in village of Lourdes below.
In the evening as they prayed the Rosary together at their hotel, two young Irish girls burst into the room both weeping uncontrollably. They had come as volunteers to help the sick and disabled in Lourdes and their charge was a young boy who had been born blind. When they had checked in on him to get him ready for bed they noticed he was very quiet and just sat on the edge of the bed waiting for them. They asked him what was wrong and he responded “I was waiting to hear your voices so I would know what you both looked like”
Earlier that day he had attended a Eucharistic procession where the Priest had moved amongst the sick with the Monstrance blessing each person. When he came to the boy he blessed him saying “let there be light” and as he did so the boy received his sight. And the first thing he saw was his Lord, Saviour and healer.
I imagine that miracle has been brand new every morning he opened his eyes for the last 60+ years; what a wonderful miracle and gift.