Walsingham Shrine has been a place I have intermittently visited since I was eight years old. Sometimes regularly, sometimes with years in between. As a place it has never ceased to be a place I have felt welcome in. It has always something new to reveal and yet retains a reassuring peaceful atmosphere every single time.
Yesterday was however my first visit to the abbey and also my first attendance at the National Pilgrimage.
On arrival this quiet little village in Norfolk was bustling and busy. The streets were awash with a sea of colours, as Bishops, Priests, Deacons, people of the religious life and laity alike flooded in from all directions. The atmosphere was full to bursting with a joyful welcome and anticipation. We were there early and wandered the streets and shops, then as my other half went of to take his part in the proceedings the children and I walked into the abbey grounds. Walking down the avenue darkened by the trees, into the sunbathed grounds of the ruins. People everywhere finding their spot for Mass and the numbers just kept growing. In the shade on periphery of the grounds I spotted a friend from college. The children already hyped up with excitement at being in Walsingham went into hyper drive at this point. Still the people amassed. Then the noise quietened and round the corner came the procession. A moving sight to see, especially as the image of Our lady turned the corner and at the front carrying this honoured cargo was my husband and our friend. I must confess at this moment to allowing myself to indulge in a small bout of pride in my husband. But this was soon replaced by one of those overwhelming moments when it strikes you that you are part of a wider history.
Here I was witnessing something I had only seen and described in the books I have read. It struck me how small a part we are in history, yet here in this point in time we are part of history itself. Not just an insignificant little ant, but part of the heartbeat of existence. We are connecting in this one moment the history, the present and the future. A truly humbling moment.
The day went on, with a beautiful Mass, a picnic lunch, a procession, culminating in Benediction. The beauty and peace of the Catholic liturgy was as it's very best, and the presence of Christ felt so clearly and by so many.
A day of celebration of Our Lady, through whose maternal intercession for us we can come closer to her son Our Lord. A day filled with friendship, both old and new. A day in which we encountered love, hope and faith through prayer and worship. Drawing to a close in the presence of Christ himself, both humbled and inspired by his blessing. So that though exhausted by the proceedings of a long day, we left refreshed and renewed in our faith.
Not long after leaving the overtired children slept and we had a long drive home. Having spent every bit of energy on the day we slept the longest we have all slept in years. Now the day after, we are looking back on a day that will stay with us for the rest of our lives.
Walsingham is, I think, just one of those special places where you can not fail to find both Christ (embodied by the Priest's in their ministry and physically in the sacrament) and also the comfort of the intercession of his Mother. The the shrine chapel candles flicker and glow with the prayers of the people all year round. It is a rare place that is so filled with the overpowering sense of hope in the power of prayer.
I very much hope that this is just one more of many journeys to this place of sanctuary and refreshment. To all who read this, no matter what your churchmanship is, please visit. You will not be disappointed, it is a place filled with the presence of God. It will humble and enrich you all in one breath.
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