My Life is a Miracle

22 My Life Is a Miracle to all her children, however young or old. It all takes place in the heart, in the language of the heart. It’s not all that mysterious if you are open to seeing things with the heart. Lord, I ask nothing for myself. But may you alleviate the suffering of all those here around me and all those I know, whom I love and commend to you in my prayer. As we leave the pools of Lourdes, passing in front of the grotto, we form another kind of train. Not on railway tracks, but on the thin rubber wheels of hundreds of blue carts. This strange, almost baroque convoy with crutches poking out every which way, with its wonderful volunteers pushing or pulling and always with a smile—what is it? It’s the train of Hope. I’ll talk to you again about that virtue that does so much good. It’s not rosy-eyed optimism. It’s not an illusion. It’s a kind of trust that God can do what seems impossible. Trust in the good. The certainty that evil cannot triumph in the end. This Hope Train takes us to the Eucharistic procession—another very special moment of the life of Lourdes. This time, the locomotive at the head of the carts is the consecrated Host, a large Host, set in a radiant monstrance for all to see, carried at arm’s length by a priest. It’s beautiful, really very beautiful. It is in Christ’s