The Sanctuary of Lourdes: A Journey of Faith and Peace

The train rocks gently as I make my way back to Paris from Lourdes, and my heart feels so full. The past four days were something I’ll never forget, Lourdes wasn’t just a place I visited; it felt like a second home. The Sanctuary became my little world, a peaceful refuge where I could breathe, think, and just be.

Even now, I can still smell the sweet scent of burning candles and the damp, earthy air of the stone paths in the early mornings. Everything about Lourdes, the sounds, the sights, seemed to hum with this quiet kind of grace. It felt like every corner of the Sanctuary was telling me, “You belong here.”

Sanctuary of our lady of Lourdes

Heading to the St.John Chapel

Mass in a small, simple room is still vivid in my mind. A small cross on the altar, a room full of plain wooden benches, with a tiny keyboard tucked in the corner. The room was almost empty, not fancy but it reminded me of the Little Sisters of the Poor, the old folks’ home where I spent my high school breaks helping the elderly. It had that same unassuming warmth, the kind of space where peace finds you without trying too hard. A visiting priest from Kuala Lumpur, Malaysia, gave a homily that struck a chord with me. He spoke about Saint Andrew leaving John the Baptist to follow Jesus and shared stories from his own Camino walk, meeting people searching for God. His words were simple but full of meaning, and in that moment, I felt connected to him, to everyone in the room, and to something bigger than myself.

The bath of Lourdes

Later, I stepped into a room where visitors used to bathe in holy water. Now, because of the times we’re living in (post-pandemic), they invite you to wash your hands and face instead. I leaned over, letting the cool water flow over my skin, and for a moment, everything else disappeared. It was refreshing, almost sacred as if each drop carried a sense of calm and hope.

Walking around the grotto where the Virgin Mary appeared to Saint Bernadette 18 times from Feb to July 1858 was one of the most moving experiences of my life. The stone was cool and smooth under my fingertips, damp from the spring water trickling down. I watched as people gently touched the cave walls, letting the water run over their hands, or pressing their lips to the stone in quiet devotion. The air was filled with this faint, mineral smell, mixed with the glow of candles flickering nearby. It was humbling to witness so much faith in one place, so much hope wrapped up in a simple act of touch.

The Grotto

At 3 PM, I joined the English rosary prayer. People from all over the world came together, their voices rising and falling in this steady, comforting rhythm. It felt like being wrapped in a warm hug, like we were all part of the same family for that moment.

Then, at night, the torchlight rosary procession at 8:30 left me speechless. Hundreds of candles lit up the dark, moving like a river of light through the Sanctuary. Six different languages blended into one prayer, and when the children’s voices came through the microphones, it felt so pure and heartfelt. The soft glow of the flames reflected in everyone’s faces, and for a moment, it felt like the whole world was at peace.

TouchLight Rosary prayer

Lighting candles was another moment that stayed with me. We lit two long, medium-sized candles for families across the world, and one more for the homeless people I had met in Paris. Watching the flames flicker was like watching hope come to life. Around me, others were doing the same, their faces filled with quiet emotion, their prayers rising with the candlelight.

At the area with all the faucets, I saw people lining up with jars of all shapes and sizes to collect the spring water. Some carried small bottles, while others had jars so large they needed both hands to hold them steady. The sound of water flowing from the faucets was steady and soothing, like a gentle background song. I watched as people carefully filled their jars, sealing them as if capturing a little piece of Lourdes to take back home.

The holy water

Even now, as the train moves through the countryside, I can still feel Lourdes with me. The peace, the prayers, the light, they all linger, like a soft echo that doesn’t want to fade. The glow of the candles, the quiet murmur of rosaries, the cool touch of the spring water on my hands, it’s all still so vivid.

Lourdes wasn’t just a place. It was a feeling, an experience, a gift. And as I head back to Paris, I carry it all with me, a little calmer, a little lighter, and a lot more grateful.