God Never Loses

By Matthew Woolford

A retired priest once told me that “God never loses”. This was following Sunday afternoon Mass many years ago at Our Lady, Mother of the Church and St Finbar, Diego Martin. I was not sure as to which aspect of my life he was referring, but a few weeks ago, in a land somewhat far away, those words came back to me… not once, but twice.

The first thing I noticed about Quebec City was that it was made to be discovered by foot. A fortress constructed on a hill and connected by inclines and stairways; one may only look towards the St Lawrence River for encouragement to keep on going. Simply put, it is a beautiful city with a river running through it.

On the morning of July 3, 2024, I put on a pair of short pants and a t-shirt with the intention of visiting Montmorency Falls.

Soon after leaving home, I decided to first detour to a landmark which I thought was Notre-Dame-de-Québec Basilica-Cathedral. It wasn’t. Google Maps corrected me and having found the location, I thought I would just ‘pass through’, with the intention of returning later.

But God had other plans…

The magnificence of this church, both inside and out, had such an effect on me that I did not want to leave. I spent most of my time at the Sacred Heart Altar, something I also do at the Community of the Sacred Heart Church in Port of Spain.

To make things enticing, there was also a Holy Door placed as an alternative entrance to this altar. As such, I exited through it and after a few minutes of prayer and mental preparation returned through it. The experience was powerful. You could feel the weight of God’s presence as you pushed opened the door.

To make things even more enticing, it was also Quebec City Day, so a special Mass was celebrated by the Bishop and his Episcopal Team at 10 a.m. I stayed for this as well.

Later that afternoon, still casually dressed, I told myself, “One for God, one for me,” and decided to go the Plains of Abraham to see where the British and French fought for this North American Sub-Continent.

However, as I began to walk, an idea that I thought was out of reach began to resurface in my mind. Visiting the Sainte-Anne-de-Beaupré Shrine was on the far end of my list of places to visit. To be honest, I wanted to ‘be’ there, but I did not want to ‘go’ there as I found it too far. It took 90 minutes one-way along the waters of the St Lawrence River to reach Beaupré from Quebec City Port. It also took 90 minutes to get back.

But God had other plans…

And somehow, despite tiredness, doubt and reservation, I found myself, with only minutes to spare, boarding the 1.30 p.m. ferry to Beaupré.

Matthew 25:40, “…Amen, I say to you, whatever you did for one of these least brothers of mine, you did for me”, translated into French, greets each visitor to this Basilica. A few feet inside and I found the famous Wall of Crutches. I initially by-passed it, but after a brief word with St Anne at her altar, I too was reminded of all the excuses, faulty relationships and emotional baggage I had travelled with, probably to appear stronger than I was, or needed to be. At that point, I returned to the main entrance to leave my own crutches there.

Dr Sarah Chin Yuen Kee, Clinical Psychologist and Counsellor at The University of the West Indies once advised me to picture all my problems on a cloud floating away into the distance. This may have been the feeling she was describing.

Sainte-Anne herself is beautiful and the altar to her marriage to St Joachim is also a peaceful place to rest. But seeing those crutches on the wall may have transformed me permanently for the better.

The pilgrimage to Notre-Dame-de-Québec Basilica-Cathedral had me thinking about God’s perfect will and all the things He has in store for me, knowing that He loves me even more than I will ever be able to love myself. The next day, I went to The Plains of Abraham in the morning and in the afternoon, I took the bus to Montmorency Falls. Two for God, two for me.

The pilgrimage to Sainte-Anne-de-Beaupré had me reflecting on the importance of ongoing formation in letting go, and protection, not so much as an act of force or intimidation, but as the creation of a space where a man could be honest with himself.

I could only imagine the depth of conversation, connection, mentorship and even spiritual formation that took place in St Anne’s own home some 2000 years ago.