Fatima -- God's Surprise!

Fátima. When I first stepped foot on the Austrian soil in Gaming, I wouldn’t have said that I would definitely go to Fátima, Portugal. If I was offered the chance to go, I would have gone with joy, but having to work or fight to get there wasn’t an idea that was on the horizon. The Marian apparition site I desired to go to was Medjugorje. In a few months, it is interesting to see how my initial plans were traded for an entirely new set. Over 10-day break I went to Fátima twice and I will not go to Medjugorje this semester. Despite the unexpectedness of it all, it worked out better than I could ever have planned. God’s plans happen like that, though.

I have always thought it would be neat to go to Fátima, but it didn’t occur to me to plan for it. May 13^th, 1990 was a memorable day. I was born. It was also Mother’s Day and the Feast of Our Lady of Fátima. An older, less well-known feast was that it was also the Feast of Our Lady of the Blessed Sacrament. With this in mind, I was open to the idea of Fátima, but Portugal seemed quite far away and there was no strong desire on my part. However, soon after the semester began, I found out there was a mission trip to Spain to work with the Missionaries of Charity. I love the Missionaries of Charity and I know some Spanish so it seemed to be perfect. It was also located quite near Portugal. The idea and desire to go to Fátima began at this point.

There came a point, however, when my prospects of being able to go to Fátima looked bleak. From Gaming, the fastest train we could find was 37 hours long. Other options interfered with the classes of the two girls I was traveling with. Yet the more difficulties we seemed to encounter, the more I desired to go to Fátima. Now it seemed to be a challenge that I was supposed to rise up to and conquer. Finally, mere days before our departure, we had our plan worked out, tenuous though it was. We were to take a train from Keinberg-Gaming to Paris-Est. From there we would take a metro and bus to the RyanAir airport Paris-Beauvais. After our flight from Paris to Porto, Portugal, we would train to Fátima. The downfalls of this itinerary were unavoidable—a couple train connections were less than ten minutes, the airport was located outside of Paris, and we had no train reservations on the portion of the train from Mannheim to Paris. With all of these weaknesses in mind, we set off with the goal of Fátima before us.

As inevitably happens, challenges arose. We did miss a train and had to take an expensive taxi in the middle of the night. The train conductors let us stay on the train to Paris for 20 euro, which we were happy to pay at the time. Overall, however, everything went quite smoothly, even to the point of getting a ride from a Portuguese family from Fátima train station to the town of Fátima. Sitting in the hotel room that night we rejoiced to be in the very place that we strove to get to. In our attempts to reach Fátima as quickly as possible, we had taken nearly every form of transportation we could think of: feet, train, taxi, metro, bus, and plane. Yet in the end, we were at the place that Mary appeared nearly 93 years earlier.

The next morning I entered the sanctuary grounds for the first time amidst joyful singing and the commencement of Mass. Pilgrims flocked to the area in front of the church where Mass was being held. Sunshine warmed us as we participated in the Palm Sunday Mass in Portuguese. Afterwards, we sat on the steps, looking at the grounds of the Fátima sanctuary.

I must admit my disappointment with Fátima. Now, I really do love Fátima but there was this part of me that expected the Cova da Iria to still be a grassy cove. I know this is irrational to expect a place of pilgrimage for so many people to remain as it was, but this sentimental part of me hoped it would be. I pictured myself praying at the place Mary appeared, surrounded only by sunshine and green grass. Instead, I knelt on the concrete with people continually walking around me. Despite the differences from dream to reality, I was able to know Mary better. I found myself imploring her to tell me why I was born on her feast of Fátima. My mother always said there was something to the fact that my younger sister and I were both born on Marian feast days. Mary didn’t give me a direct answer to my question, but I sensed that she agreed with my mother, there was a reason I was born on May 13^th. For the first time I thought about the fact that I was born on Mother’s Day in terms of my heavenly mother in addition to my earthly mother.

When I left on Sunday evening for Madrid, it was with the knowledge that I would be returning to spend Easter there. After only six days of being away from Fátima, I didn’t think I would be as excited as I was to return. There was a part of me that truly related to Fátima in a way that I didn’t expect. I found myself kneeling in the Apparition Chapel late on the eve of Easter Sunday joyfully telling Mary that I was back. I was still unable to do everything that Fátima offered, but being there was enough for me. At one point I walked to the visionaries houses by myself and it was beautiful to be on my own seeing the concrete reality of those who saw Mary.

Fátima wasn’t what I expected. It struck a deeper cord than what I had prepared myself for. When we were leaving for Madrid we found ourselves questioning why we had to leave. Again, when I left for Gaming, I found myself wondering why I must leave such a beautiful place so soon. However, my experience in Madrid with the Missionaries of Charity was wonderful. Gaming also offered an experience that even Fátima couldn’t provide. It is difficult, but I am trying to learn to embrace each change with openness because something good, albeit a different good, comes from each transition. God had plans for me in Fátima that I didn’t have for myself; I’m sure it is the same with the rest of this semester, the rest of my life.