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Jesus and His Wild Child (every family has one)


My last night in Lourdes, I sat with the owner of the hotel I was staying at for a good hour or so, discussing life in Lourdes. I marveled at his job. He gets to invite pilgrims to rest and see the many people coming and asking our Lord for miracles.

We talked about how all the worldly things we think are important today will pass, and the only thing worth fighting for is our faith. I shared with him the story of my book filled with prayers from people who have requested them as well as people I have met along the way.

He then shared something unique with me. Confirmed miracle number 68 at Lourdes stayed in this same hotel, and she had brought a book with prayers as well. Grace be to God that power transmits to the prayers of those in need.

After a great evening of philosophical conversations, I wondered what Christ had planned next?

So in Christ Jesus you are all children of God through faith, for all of you who were baptized into Christ have clothed yourselves with Christ. Galatians 3:26-27

(If my mother is reading this, please forgive me, you are forced to suffer free-spirited daughters)

I am heading in the direction of Medjugorje. I found some flights to Split, where I will need to stay for two days to get my COVID test to enter Bosnia-Herzegovina. When I booked the flight from Lourdes -> Paris -> Zagreb-> Split, I did not notice that my flight arrived in Paris Orly, and the next flight departed from Paris Charles de Gaulle. En plus (exaggerated French words for effect), my plane landed at 8:30 am, and the next flight departed at 9:55 am. Ooh la la.

Upon discovering this little fact, I looked up and said to Jesus, “game on!”

As we were descending into Paris, I could see that all the roads/freeways were packed. Looking up again, I winked at Him and said, “A monkey wrench, huh, you must have something big planned.”

I scrambled out of the plane, down the steps onto the bus taking me to the terminal, through two identity controls, down a long hallway, and bursting out of the airport, I hoped to find a rogue taxi driver willing to break the sound barrier for me. Then, like an invitation to endless wonder, I saw the Moto-taxi stand. It was clear to me at that moment I had to either jump on the back of a motorcycle and race across Paris or miss my flight - miss my COVID test appointment- miss going to Medjugorje.

I got on the bike.

How does one describe the perfect storm of absolute spine snapping fear in perfect unison with unadulterated wild child joy?