Though I have always claimed a strong devotion to Mama Mary, I must admit I still know so little about her. So when I had another chance to visit France, I made it a point to include pilgrimage sites in my itinerary. After spending peaceful days in Lourdes, I set aside my second day in Paris to visit the Chapel of Our Lady of the Miraculous Medal.

After starting my day with flaky croissants and hot coffee from the hotel’s breakfast buffet, I took the train back to Sèvres–Babylone. Traveling solo, I had grown more confident using the Paris Metro by then. I checked directions on multiple websites and relied on Google Maps to lead me from the station.

Unlike grand Parisian basilicas, the chapel’s entrance is discreet. It is tucked behind a courtyard along Rue du Bac and is easy to miss if you are not looking. But for those who know what happened here, this quiet space holds extraordinary significance.

The chapel was originally built in 1815 and dedicated to the Sacred Heart of Jesus. In 1830, a young novice of the Daughters of Charity, Catherine Labouré, experienced a series of apparitions of the Blessed Mother. During one of these encounters, Mary asked her to have a medal made that would become a source of great graces for those who wore it with faith. This would later be known around the world as the Miraculous Medal.

The front of the medal shows Mary with arms extended, rays of light streaming from her hands, symbolizing the graces she grants. Around her is the prayer, “O Mary, conceived without sin, pray for us who have recourse to thee.” On the back of the medal are a cross, the letter M, two hearts, and twelve stars. The cross and M represent Mary’s closeness to Jesus and her role in salvation. The hearts are those of Jesus and Mary, showing their love for us. The twelve stars symbolize the Church and echo a vision described in the Book of Revelation.

When I arrived, I sat quietly and offered my prayers. There were no gilded ceilings or ornate chandeliers, just simple wooden pews, soft light, and a deep sense of peace.

To the right of the sanctuary lies the incorrupt body of Saint Catherine Labouré. Her face, visible behind glass, is serene, with a rosary resting in her hands. Nearby is the wax effigy of Saint Louise de Marillac, which contains her bones, and a reliquary housing the heart of Saint Vincent de Paul. These saints are the pillars of the Daughters of Charity, whose mission continues to this day.

It was my first time seeing an incorruptible saint. In the Catholic tradition, these are individuals whose bodies do not decompose in the usual way after death. This is considered a sign of holiness and a close relationship with God. I could not help but feel a mix of awe, reverence, and humility.

There are many incorrupt saints. Saint Bernadette of Lourdes is among the most well-known. Others include Saint Cecilia, Saint John Vianney, and Padre Pio. Even Saint Anthony of Padua has an incorrupt tongue, and Saint Clare of Montefalco is known to have a preserved heart. 

I had planned to visit the Convent of Saint Gildard in Nevers, where Saint Bernadette’s body lies, but I missed my train. I was disappointed, but I chose to believe it was all part of God’s plan.

After a few quiet prayers inside the chapel, I stepped outside to browse the small souvenir shop. I bought several medals to bring home to family and friends and then waited for Mass. 

Sitting there, I could not help but reflect. The younger me never imagined I would one day visit sites of Marian apparitions around the world. I had already been to Fatima and Lourdes, and now here I was at the Chapel of the Miraculous Medal in Paris.

After Mass, the priest gave a special blessing for the medals. The Blessed Sacrament was also exposed. I noticed other pilgrims lining up outside, and thankfully, there was a priest available to give individual blessings. At first, I was unsure what to do, but I just followed the others and joined the line.

Afterward, I walked to the Musée Rodin, which was just a short distance away, and spent the rest of the afternoon exploring more of Paris. But my heart kept going back to Rue du Bac.

On my last day in Paris, just before heading to the airport, I went out to buy butter to bring home. I walked a few blocks, trying to find the shop, when I noticed familiar words painted on the street. “Ave Maria.” I looked around and realized I had somehow ended up back outside the chapel.

Of course, I went in one last time. I prayed quietly and simply said thank you. Thank you for the graces received. Thank you for the peace I found there. Thank you for allowing me to come full circle before heading home.