ND Students in Spain for WYD - Pilgrim Reflection No.1!

By Pilgrim Claire Devonport

In the days leading up to the Saturday night that we slept out, I was anxious to say the least. Anxious, nervous, restless and adamant that I would in no uncertain terms be sleeping out. I hadn't even packed to sleep out but during one of my minor protests and excuse secessions, a beloved friend informed me that she had in fact hauled 2 sleeping bags all the way to Madrid. As one sleeping bag was for me, and I saw all the Priests in their habits and the Young Order of Malta participants, some in wheelchairs, preparing to sleep out, I realized I was well and truly out of excuses.
We set off for the aerodrome where we were to sleep out in the hottest part of the day. Our bags bulked down with litres of water and supplies for the next 24 hours. All up I think it took about 2.5 hours of walking and catching stuffy trains to get to the aerodrome but the site of all of the pilgrims camped out, flags waving and fire trucks spraying the millions of pilgrims with their fire hoses suddenly made me feel excited. We finally found somewhere to set up camp and were fortunate that three Italians, who had taken enough room for 10 people, moved themselves into a smaller space and even donated some of their tarps to us.
It wasn’t long after we got set up that the rains came. Rain!? In Madrid!? Seriously!!?? The timing was poor but by grace alone we were blessed to have the 10-15 minutes that the Blessed Sacrament was exposed to be rain and wind free. After that however it continued to pour. There were 6 or more of us huddled under a tarp with a few more poking their heads in. The wind howled, lightning struck, thunder boomed, people said they wished their mothers were there, and it rained.
I’m sure the Italians were wishing they could have their tarps back, but they didn’t ask so we moved some barricades and made a tent out of mattresses and tarps. While it continued to rain, it was ironically quite fun. I even managed to get about 5 hours sleep.
It took a friend’s comment to make me realize the enormity of what I was a part of. She commented on how amazing it was that there were 2 million people all together praying. When I said that I couldn’t see anyone there praying, she reminded me that by being at the aerodrome, making a pilgrimage there, camping out in less than desirable circumstances, awaiting the Holy Father, we were praying, all together, all night.
We were a part of the biggest crowd ever to be drawn in Europe, perhaps the world, and it was all to see one man. To celebrate one faith. To show and spread one love.
Like the friends who still insist on photographic evidence that I did in fact sleep out, I am still trying to comprehend how the night that I had predicted to be one of the worst of my life, turned out to be the best. Sleeping on rocks, in the rain and the dirt, in scorching heat, was the best night of my life.