With Open Doors

Eleven people lived in this tiny house. Francisco and Jacinta were the youngest of the nine children, five boys and four girls. In our St. Andrew parish there is a family with nine children, although theirs number five girls and four boys. Maybe our family of eleven could imagine living in the home of that family of eleven in the tiny village of Aljustrel. In our Milford family the last two would be Molly and Henry.

During one of her appearances to the Lucia, Francisco and Jacinta, Our Lady of the Rosary of Fatima asked the children to pray everyday and make sacrifices for sinners, because many people go to hell because they do not have anyone to pray and make sacrifice for them.

This is one of my favorites: looking back through the entrance to the Church of the Holy Trinity, seeing the Basilica in the background.

Imagine my surprise when our guide, after first pointing out John the Baptist and then Mother Teresa directly above him and slightly hidden, asked us to look three persons to the right and take note of … Queen Saint Isabelle. The guide went on to say how proud they were of their former queen of Portugal. I got distracted, thinking about how I referred to my mother as Queen Isabelle. Hmmm, Queen Saint Isabelle.

In the sanctuary of Fatima, there is a modern built Church of the Holy Trinity, which seats 9,000 people. Behind the altar is this crucifix. Notice the lamb. Jesus is the lamb of God whose blood was poured out for you and for many so that sins might be forgiven, as the lamb was slaughtered and the blood was smeared on the doorposts of God’s people so that they might make their exodus to freedom. Below this cross and lamb and bloodied arch is the altar. You make the connection.

“To thee do we send up our sighs …”

Before the statue of Our Lady of the Rosary of Fatima in the Church of Apparitions I unzipped the bag, and all the written and spoken prayers that people had put into it breathed out and were sent up as sighs to Mary.

“I beseech thee to hear my prayer for ….”

Mom’s 20-decade rosary went with me to Fatima, too, along with all the written prayer intentions people gave to me and all the ones they put into mom’s bag during the homily at all the Masses at St. Andrew the weekend before I left for pilgrimage.

This is the 15-decade olive wood rosary that I brought home for mom from Jerusalem. When we found it in mom’s stuff after she died, it had a safety pin after the “Glory be” bead at end of the tenth decade. Apparently, it was mom’s way of keeping track of where she left off. Mom used to say that if you fell sleep while praying your rosary, the angels would finish it for you. The safety pin apparently marked the spot where she was the last time she used that rosary before she died. I finished it for her at Fatima on the first day of my pilgrimage. I left the pin where mom left it. That is where that pin will stay.

There is something about Fatima that feels very soothing and safe, and not just at the Chapel of Apparitions. The whole town, literally the whole town is peaceful, reverent and respectful.