I walked down to the Grotto. It was after 1:00 am and raining continuously. There was hardly anyone there. I stood inside and the light outside shone through a wall of rain pouring down outside. It was almost as if I was standing beside a waterfall. There was water everywhere: outside, dripping down the rocks, in the running spring at the side of the Grotto. But not cold uncomfortable water but warm, soft, summer water. Here was I alone in a spot where, if the Virgin Mary had appeared anywhere on Earth in the past two-thousand years (apart from Palestine, two-thousand years ago) it was here. If. If.

It was a moment of profound peace and joy. I knelt in the grotto and looked up at the statue in the niche. In the misty darkened rain encircled in light from the streaming single spotlight, the statue seemed almost alive. I could have stood there forever but eventually instead I lit a candle and walked slowly up the hill. Go to the quiet places, Gabriel.