The little lady stands alone in a corner of a little room in the little house.  Low light and leathered lines in the brown face obscure her features.  All of herself from top to bottom, which is considerably under four feet, is motionless except for bright eyes that dart from one tall stranger to the next. 
The little lady is introduced to us as Maria de Jesus.  Maria's claim to fame is her Aunt Lucia de Jesus who died last year, 2005, on February 18^th.  The death and funeral of Aunt Lucia captured world-wide attention.  The life of Aunt Lucia had also captured worldwide attention, ever since the Miracle of the Sun back in 1917 and the apparitions of Mary, our Blessed Lady, at Fatima, Portugal.
At the final apparition on October 17^th, 1917, there were 70,000 people pres-ent who witnessed a miracle as promised.  The sun whirled on itself like a wheel of fire as it seemed to fall upon the earth.  The onlookers screamed for they thought they'd be burned and crushed.  The crowd had been drenched in pouring rain as they waited for the sign, and then their clothes spontaneously dried as though they had never been wet.
Journalists and photographers from around the world reported and recorded these historical events in their newspapers and magazines. 
The three little shepherd children - Lucia, Jacinta, and Francisco - had also seen a Lady "more brilliant than the sun."  It is she who had promised the miracle so that people might believe.  The Lady told the children many things, including to pray and repent, with a request that a chapel be built there.
'Twas in that very chapel at Fatima that Father Bob White of Victoria and Father Stan Mader of Mound said Mass for 25 of us on our recent pilgrimage.
After the candlelight procession and Mass at the Fatima Basilica, Mary Moore and I agreed we had been to the top of the mountain.  We had not spoken of expecta-tions, but whatever the expectations were, they had been exceeded.
Little did we know that in a few days we would reach the top of the mountain again - at Lourdes, France, where the Blessed Lady appeared to another little girl, this one named Bernadette.  Those apparitions occurred much longer ago, in 1858.
Bernadette Soubirous was also a shepherdess, also very poor.  In her own words:  "I heard a noise like a gust of wind ... I raised my eyes towards the Grotto and saw a lady dressed in white.  She was wearing a white dress, a white veil, a blue sash, and a yellow rose on each foot."  Our Lady said to Bernadette, "I wish a shrine to be built here."
'Twas in that very shrine at Lourdes that Father Bob and Father Stan said Mass for us.  We saw the image of the Little Lady who stands alone in a niche of an alcove at the famous Grotto.  In the low light of the evening, candlelight helps us see her and recall her message to pray and repent.
Following instructions of Our Lady during one of the apparitions of 1858, Bernadette discovered the spring at the base of the Grotto.  That fountain con-tinues to flow to this day and continues to be the scene of extraordinary physical and spiritual cures.
Little Bernadette also experienced, in the presence of many witnesses, the Miracle of the Candle.  During one of the visions, Bernadette held her hands closely cupped around the flame of her candle, to keep it from blowing out in the breeze, for some ten to fifteen minutes, oblivious to the heat.  Flames flickered about Bernadette's fingers without causing the slightest trace of a burn. 
As a reporter and journalist, I record and report here in the Victoria Gazette, both in the paper and online editions, some events of my pilgrimage to Fatima and Lourdes, none of them comparable to the Miracle of the Sun or the Miracle of the Candle, yet all of them memorable.  As I've said before, it seems a miracle that I've touched the places that captivat-ed me as a little girl.
In manner similar to days gone by, not everyone will read or believe or care about the story or view my pictures in Sue's Album - surely not any number close to 70,000 people!  But that's just the way things are.  We do the best we can and, little by little, those who seek will find. 
As might be expected, a pilgrimage mirrors the journey of life.  There were times of deep tiredness due to changes in time zones, loss of sleep, and chatting long into the nighttime hours.  There were times of exuberance when a view was breathtaking or we were buoyed by the body of pilgrims, or when we learned breakfast would be served at 9 a.m. rather than 6 a.m.  Sometimes little things mattered.  Sometimes big things mattered.
There were tears of joy during the candlelight processions and tears of sorrow at the Grotto in remembering hurting family members and friends, not to mention the Son of God Himself.  There were opportunities to help people who were alone and opportunities to look the other way when hands were out-stretched toward us. 
There was tremendous beauty in the landscape and terrain, in the sky, in the architecture and gardens, in faces on canvas and faces on the bus, in prayers and procession.  There were times of silence, times of conversation, times of laughter.
"Go to the fountain to drink and wash yourselves," our Blessed Lady had said.  We did.

For a picture story of the Spring Pilgrimage, check out Sue's Album
or go directly there, from here:  Spring Pilgrimage 2006