My Life is a Miracle

13 The Healin Lourdes. My body weary, my soul at peace, there’s only one thing I can do: pray, unite my- self to the Lord, through Mary. I’ll come back to that later. I prayed for all those sick people I’d crossed paths with during the pilgrimage. Many were more seriously afflicted than I was. I can still get around—a little. Without the mor- phine, my spine would be incandescent with pain. But who am I to complain? My place in the world as a nun is to be there for them, for others, not for myself. I offered the life God gave me to him and to others. If my health doesn’t allow me to help them anymore—I used to be a nurse—I can at least pray for them, full-time, for their healing, their well-being. I’m think- ing in particular of Corinne and Claire, both younger than I, who are afflicted with multiple sclerosis. They’re both stuck for good in wheel- chairs, but with big smiles on their faces. And so many others. My God, how many sorrows. Why all this suffering? Why this illness? Hear my cry, Lord! I cry out in silence. That’s prayer as well. Not a revolt—a plea. Three days and three nights went by like this in that month of July 2008. The time to recover from the journey, to recover from the pilgrimage. But no real re- covery, since I’m disabled and my condition is sure to get worse. Without any possible doubt,