the "Slipper Chapel" at Walsingham, although this formal pic doesn't do it justice, because the charm lies in the gentle untidiness and greenery of the country lane, and the meadows opposite, and the little brook, and the splashy ford, and the feeling of coming on it all rather suddenly as you walk up from the village.A memory: one summer night, during a Youth 2000 weekend, a group of us enjoying a walk in the moonlight...we started to say the Rosary and somewhere behind us in the lane, a couple of other voices joined in, and then a few more. We all walked along, the prayer going back and forth pleasantly in the summer night, no traffic noise to spoil it. As we drew near the shrine, we stopped in front of it, just by that door that you see above here, and sang the Salve Regina. None of us knew each other, we were just assorted pilgrims - until we gathered by the shrine we hadn't even seen each others' faces. And as we sang together, it was such a pleasant feeling of solidarity...and then we all got chatting for a while, then wished each other goodnight, and off to our various tents to sleep.
1 comment:
You ought to write a book on the history and story of Walsingham
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