My Life is a Miracle

20 My Life Is a Miracle with her hands. Before her eyes, water flowed out. And that fresh spring is still flowing. You can drink it, or wash your face and hands in it. You can even bathe in it, in the pools near the grotto. These were specially installed so that everyone, including the handicapped, could immerse themselves. They’re like big bathtubs hewn out of the dark local rock. Volunteers are there to gently lift you in. It’s a physical act, but also a form of spiritual prayer. It reminds us of our baptism that purifies and renews us. We are washed in the water of Christ’s Resurrection. I don’t know why but, that time, it was a very intense experience. In this total immersion, I felt myself purified, as though just baptized anew. My body was so broken, suffering—but then, splash, plunged into the icy water! It was like an electroshock. It only lasts a few seconds, and then they take you out. You instantly dry off. And you’re different, renewed. And then, pushed in our wheelchairs, we go back and forth in front of and into this mysterious grotto. Mary is there, I’m sure of it. There’s a beautiful statue there to remind us of her presence, but she’s there herself, a mother welcoming all the sorrows of the world laid at her feet by the overburdened, the fed-up; all the anguish, depression, the suffering, the lifelong handicaps, all the cries, all the tears, outward or