Lourdes 1

Words are difficult.
They do not capture the intensity of feelings that a week in Lourdes can provoke.
From the heights of joy to the depths of despair.
And admist it all, a host of kindness and compassion and love, enough to fill a lake to overflowing.
Of the adults for the children and each other and the other way round.
Alice with her song, the excellent girl that she is, Matthew with his cheeky smile and determined manner and his inner strength despite his outward weaknesses, the wild and ruly ones, the small and cheeky ones, all adding to one week of memories and events that will be hard to forget and harder still to repeat.

And moments of grief as I looked for what I lost and realised it would never return.
Not my faith, but my whole son, instead of my damaged one.
And on my own, I wept and wept and wept.
How could a good God do that?
Despite what Martin said.

So, I will try and think and write a few of my memories over the next few days, to explain why I go and why, despite being an atheist, I will still continue to go.
Perhaps...