It’s so quiet here in the Grotto. For a campus of over 11,000 students, it’s like another world down here by the lake, sheltered inside this cave-like retreat, a refuge from the chaos of adolescent academia. While I’m standing, listening, taking pictures on the perimeter of the grotto, students appear, light candles and dash off to class. A woman kneels at the railing and gazes at the lighted candles then bows her head. Tears are falling from her eyes.

I walk inside the hollowed out cave. It’s at least ten degrees warmer from the heat of so many lighted candles. I look at the different sections of the candle tiers: Alumni, faculty, students, friends, family members, priests and nuns, military personnel. There’s a whole section of lit candles for someone named Ashley who’s been in a bad car accident.

Off to the side, dozens of wooden sticks stand in a box of sand next to another box of white two-inch pillar candles in clear plastic holders. I grab a candle and a stick then walk over to the rack of lit candles in the alumni section of the Grotto. I light my stick from the green candle representing students from the 2000s. That’s the decade in which Marsha earned her master’s from Notre Dame, and we began our journey together as partners.

From the flame on the wooden stick, I light my candle and place it in the rack. I pause for a few minutes to remember … two weeks we spent here during the final semester of Marsha’s coursework … every day bringing her dinner just to spend a few minutes together between classes, assignments and studying … now our roles are reversed … it’s been over six months since Marsha lost her job … I hope she finds something soon … I hope we both realize our dreams for meaningful work.

Later, I find this prayer card and think of the candle I lit at the Grotto. I pray it for Marsha, for me, for us:

God, our Father, I turn to you seeking your divine help as I search for life-giving employment. I need your wisdom to guide my footsteps along the right path, and to lead me to find the proper things to say and do in this quest. I want to use the gifts and talents you have given me. Give me confidence, patience and trust that you, too, want the very best for me.¹⁵

Lighting a candle at the Grotto is different than throwing a coin in a fountain. With spare change and bubbling water, I think, “I have nothing to lose by taking a chance on luck." At the Grotto, it’s not about luck or chance or a wish. Sparking a flame here is about hope—both to give and to receive.

Walking from the Grotto toward the lake, we spot some purple crocuses blooming amid dried leaves. The first signs of spring are shaking off the death of winter. That means it’s resurrection time—the season of hope. I’m grateful for the offering I make, and the one I receive.