01 Oct My first trip to visit St. Therese in Lisieux, France
I had just started working for a major airline in the spring of 1996. I wanted to take my first International trip with this airline and fly to France to visit the hometown of my patron saint — St. Therese — and basilica on her feast day October 1st, but I hadn’t received my flight benefits, so I had to wait until the following year to go.
The long-awaited day came where I was able to fly out on September 30th to arrive in Paris on October 1st, 1997. I asked my father to accompany me, as it was going to be a quick trip. We were just going to spend the day in Lisieux to visit the basilica of St. Therese on her feast day, and leave the following day.
We were flying standby on my flight passes (as employees do), and the flight was overbooked, so we were lucky enough to get on. When we arrived in Paris, we headed to the Gare Saint- Lazare train station to make our way to Lisieux, France. I hadn’t slept much on the flight from sheer anticipation of the visit, so I tried to take a quick nap on our 1-hour-and-45-minute ride there.
The basilica sits on top of a hill. You cannot miss it when you arrive; it seems to take up half the city in this modestly-sized town. What a beautiful site it was! I can still remember how I felt when I saw it. No other way to describe it but true bliss! I was finally there!
As we walked up the hill, we saw huge signs and banners with pictures of St. Therese all over town. I thought to myself, “How wonderful that the entire city venerates her!” When we finally made it up the hill, we saw hundreds of buses and swarms of people. We went inside the basilica and realized there was something bigger going on and that I was not the only one who loved this little saint.
It turns out it was St. Therese’s centenary celebration — 100 years since her death — and I’d had no idea. I just wanted to visit the basilica on her feast day and could not have planned a better time to be there.
There was a procession of her relics, and so many different clergy represented by different religions from all over the world there to venerate her. I even saw a couple of priests from the Coptic Orthodox church in the procession! Every hour, they had a different service given by representatives of a different group or country. I even got to spend some time with her relics!
After about 2 hours, my father wanted to head back to our hotel in Paris. We hadn’t slept on the flight, and with the time difference, we were up all night. He was very tired, but I was not, because I was just so excited to celebrate her!
I would say, “Just one more hour, Dad” and he would give in. Every hour, for the next 6 hours, my father would ask me if we could leave, and I would beg him to stay for just one more hour of service. I can’t explain how happy I was to be there! After 7 hours, my father finally snapped. He started yelling at the top of his lungs it seemed: “Let’s go!!” he said. “I am tired and cannot stay here another minute!!”
Fortunately, we did leave, because we soon found out it was the last train to Paris. It was not even a direct train, either! It stopped at a suburb outside of Paris, and we had to take a bus, metro, taxi, etc., and didn’t get to the hotel until 4 hours later.
My poor father was beyond exhausted. I feel awful thinking about it now, as he was diagnosed with pancreatic cancer 8 months later and passed away the following year. Who could have known?
The following morning, we headed to the airport to try and fly standby back to the States. There was a large crowd near our gate waiting to board. After an hour, they made an announcement to the standbys that the flight was full and they would transfer our names to the next flight, which would leave 2 hours later. I decided to ask the agent at the desk where we stood on the standby list and if it was worth it for us to wait around the airport for the next couple of hours. She pulled up the list and told me we were numbers 80 and 81.
That’s right — there were 79 people in front of us. And all confirmed passengers are boarded before any standbys can get on. Since I was a new employee, I was very low on the list. She proceeded to tell me the next flight had only 3 seats open and it wasn’t worth it for us to try, as they have had many standbys trying to get back to the States for the past 3 days, with no luck.
I went back to my father to let him know we probably wouldn’t be able to get on any flights that day and we will have to stay the night and try again the next day. I was concerned how he would react since he was so upset with me the previous day, but he seemed to be quite understanding.
Just then, an agent came out of the aircraft and yelled across to the agent at the desk. There was one open seat left and asked who the next person on the list was. The agent I spoke with quickly looked at the screen and called out our names, and asked us if we were willing to split up. I said YES! My father didn’t want to leave me on my own, but I assured him I would be okay and would make my way back to the States through another country and to quickly get on the flight!
I watched my father go through the door of the jet bridge, and with a smile on my face, I waited until the aircraft pushed back. At the time, we used paper tickets, and when the agent came out of the aircraft with my father’s ticket in her hand, she questioned the agent at the desk how an employee’s parent had gotten onto the flight?? A parent is below any active employee or child of employee. Remember, we were numbers 80 and 81 on the list. I saw the agent at the desk cringe as she explained how I had asked her where we stood on the standby list, and she still had our names up on the screen when she was asked who the next person on the list was. Divine intervention? I believe so.
I made it to the States through London the following day and called my father to let him know I was back in the country. He’d learned what had happened, from the startled agent at the gate when he gave her his ticket before boarding the flight. He started to laugh and tell me how Saint Therese was watching over me and wanted to make sure he got on a flight back to the States, so I wouldn’t have to hear him complain anymore. I would like to think they are both together in Heaven laughing at that day.
I will never forget that first trip to Lisieux, France, to visit the Little Flower. Not only was I able to visit St. Therese in her hometown on her feast day, but I was also there to celebrate her 100th year anniversary. I don’t believe this was mere coincidence. Through her prayers, my patron saint gave me an once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to share this special day with her and my father. I will be forever grateful to my dear friend.
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