Why We Don't See Everyday Miracles in Our Lives

I love Paris, been there a few times - easy when you live in London - but this time was super special. I was with my hubby, who never went to France before.

When I travel, I don't like going to churches that become touristic spots and are full of people who have no idea that they need to be respectful to the Blessed Sacrament and be silent for those who are there to pray. That happened in the Vatican, at St Mark in Venice, Notre Dame de Paris and Sacre Coeur mainly. To avoid that feeling of aggression, I go visit those ones at mass times whenever possible. In Italy that means you are not paying to visit the church also.

We were entering Sacre Coeur, in Montmartre, and immediately I felt a "call" from the Miraculous Medal I bring with me all times. Our Lady's apparition to St Catherine Laboure happened in Paris, and I've never been to the place where it happened. While hubby was admiring that beautiful church, I was around trying to find a nun or some worker from the church to ask about the address of the Miraculous Medal Chapel. I got the information: Rue du Bac. Such a familiar name, my mother always repeated it to me when telling about St Catherine and asking when I would visit her shrine. How could I forget.

Our Lady of Grace, as we call her in Brazil, or Our Lady of the Miraculous Medal, protects my mum since her childhood, I know quite a number of her miracles in my mother's life. Then I was confirmed on my 30s - this is such a serious step, can't understand how can children be confirmed - and my sponsor, my aunt, gave me a Miraculous Medal to celebrate the date. I carry that with me all times since. My wedding was consecrated to Her and wedding favours were the Miraculous Medal attached to a prayer to Our Lady. She was in my life even before I was born.

Hubby and I went to mass at Notre Dame on our first day, then we planned to go to the Miraculous Medal Chapel next day. Rue du Bac. I even dreamt of it. We walked all day and I could only think about getting there. Rue du Bac is to the left of the Museé D'Orsay but my map is broken into pages and that street seemed like a short one. We walked, walked and it seemed that we were lost. We asked different people and they all said : just walk ahead (that was not a straight line, I can guarantee you). It was Ascension day, and I could only think about attending mass there.

We made it: Rue du Bac, 140. A pilgrimage spot, lots of welcoming nuns, pilgrims of different languages. A beautiful chapel, full of its dignity, pilgrims respectful of its solemnity. So beautiful I wanted to cry but, that was an urge for a painful cry, as I only felt when my dad passed away. I couldn't understand. Inside, Our Lady invites us to go kneel at Her altar and talk to her. So I did. So much to ask, but much more to be grateful for. I didn't want to leave. I would stay there, sitting all day, without moving, contemplating. We still had only a few hours left in Paris, and I still had to show a few places to my hubby. We left. The chapel went with me.

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Late that night, I was already sleeping deeply, very tired. My mum called me. My father's brother, my dear uncle Adino, had died, by my accounts at around the same time we entered the Miraculous Medal Chapel. So I am sure he is in a much better world now. Jesus took my uncle to heaven with Him, as requested by Our Lady, in answer to our prayers. I know he is well, with those departed from our family too, my father and my grandparents.

Tio Dininho, descanse em paz. Peca a Deus por nós.

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