The news must have spread like wildfire, because by the time shepherd girl Bernadette Soubirous had her 18th and final vision of the Virgin Mary, several thousand people had already flocked to the grotto in Lourdes.

In 1858, just as now, there were sceptics as well as believers. The police commissioner and local parish priest both rigorously questioned Bernadette and, after the 11th apparition, she was brought to the house of Judge Ribes, who threatened to put her in jail. But it was the story of the miracles that endured. Under the guidance of the apparition — a woman dressed in white and blue with a yellow rose on each foot — Bernadette scratched at a spot in the soil of the grotto to reveal a spring.

That spring now produces 27,000 gallons of water a day and some five million people a year visit the shrine where 67 accepted miracles and more than 7,000 cures have taken place.

Among them are members of the Irish Pilgrimage Trust (IHCPT), which are celebrating its 40th anniversary this year. The story of the IHCPT is a little like the story of Lourdes itself. It started out as a small venture in England, when Dr Michael Strode brought eight children to Lourdes in 1955, and it has gone from strength to strength ever since.

In 1971, an Irish-affiliated branch was set up by Anthea O’Grady, and this Easter, 1,100 Irish people flew to Lourdes to join 4,000 other Trust members from the UK, America, Croatia, the West Indies and Romania. The people who go to Lourdes with the IHCPT don’t go expecting miracles, yet they come away from the world’s most famous Marian shrine feeling that they have witnessed something out of the ordinary.

It’s a feeling that is catching. One mother was so surprised by the change in her daughter after a pilgrimage to the French town that she rang the IHCPT asking what they had done to her. “She is a changed girl since she came home,” she said, recounting her daughter’s new acceptance of her Spina Bifida. There are hundreds of stories like that — minor ‘miracles’ that will never make headlines, but changes that have made an enormous difference to thousands of young people with special needs who have been involved with the IHCPT in the past four decades.

“When they go home, the children are all changed — even a little bit,” says IHCPT chairman John O’Reilly. “They might be more open, more confident or more accepting of their particular disability. Here in Lourdes, they are treated as normal people. It’s as if the disability is no longer visible; that is the real miracle.” It is clear that something very unusual is happening today — the Tuesday after Easter — as 1,000 people gather to celebrate the annual Irish Mass. It’s a Mass, all right, but not as we know it. This ceremony has more in common with a football final: the 42 Irish groups are dressed in colourful jerseys, ridiculous hats and have their faces painted.

There are hymns, songs — ‘Mamma Mia’, for heaven’s sake — furious clapping and dancing in the aisles. Cardinal Sean Brady is here, but he’s leaving early to go to the royal wedding. The holiday pilgrims might say he’s the one who has the raw deal, as they’d prefer to stay on in this surprisingly picturesque town in the foothills of the Pyrenees. It’s easy to scoff when you see the 200 or so souvenir shops that are filled with the best of Catholic kitsch — there are snow globes that glow in the dark, enormous plaster virgins, six-foot-long rosaries, key rings, medals... the list goes on. I have to confess I felt something approaching terror when I was asked to join the Pilgrimage Trust in Lourdes and muck in with Group 61, a gang of 10 children with all kinds of special needs and 14 helpers, including a chaplain and doctor.

But I find the atmosphere in Hotel Myosotis (the Hotel Forget-Me-Not) is not so much sacred as profane. There is merciless banter at the dinner table and you start to get over yourself pretty quickly. For the helpers, this is the one week in the year when they are never number one and that is part of the attraction of the whole experience, says group chaplain Fr Michael Sheil, who prefers to be known as Fr Mocky. “The children are so patient. I wonder who the normal ones really are — is it us with our inhibitions, hangups and prejudices, or these children who take everything as it comes?” he says.

There is no getting away from religion in Lourdes, but the week away is more about getting a break from normal routine. “It’s a holiday designed to give children with special needs an extra-good time in a safe, child friendly environment,” says group leader Conor Daly, who has brought his son Tiernan along to help this year. “We treat them like ordinary kids here,” he adds. But there is nothing ordinary about the children’s approach to religion. One year, the pressing question at the grotto was not about apparitions or miracles but ‘how the lady got in the hole’.

Fr Mocky simply said, “The 46A bus”, and that settled the mystery for the week. Another year, a Down Syndrome girl was very taken with the story of the stations of the cross. At the end, after Jesus was resurrected, she said with relief: “I’m so glad that it ended well for him because I was thinking of sending him a Get Well Soon card.”

This year, the group hasn’t had time to form complete impressions just yet. But ask any one of them — Megan Maher, Tomas Nally, Charlene Rooney, Alan Fay, Jessica Bingham, Michael Byrne, Michael Dinneny, Sharon Byrne, Eimear Russell or Declan Merry — what the best thing is and they will simply say, “Everything”.

Volunteer Aisling O’Flanagan says it always seems to exceed their expectations, and that is something fellow volunteers Simon Howley and Darragh Lynch have seen again and again in the seven years they have been coming to Lourdes. “It’s a week of sanity in 51 weeks of insanity,” says Darragh. “There are miracles every day. The children arrive like scared bunny rabbits and within days are standing up in front of 5,000 people. You feel inadequate in front of them. It’s my best week of the year, bar none.” “The message of the week is very simple,” Simon and Darragh explain. “It’s about crossing boundaries and participation. We just do what is necessary. It’s banal, it’s not heroics. It’s not hard.”

Doing what’s necessary means mucking in, cleaning up, pushing wheelchairs and joining in, whether that’s at the torch-lit procession at night or playing football on the large open green area behind the grotto, known as The Prairie. It is the first year for students Donal Murphy and Gordon Quigley and within days, they too have taken the Trust’s unofficial motto to heart: “Anything pour les enfants [for the children].”

“The thing that keeps me coming back,” says Mary Kelly, group treasurer, “is the acceptance the children have for their illnesses. I have never heard one of them grumble or say ‘Why me?’” There is no expectation that the children will be cured. In any case, there is a move away from the word ‘miracle’ in Lourdes. The crutches that were once suspended from the grotto have been taken down and emphasis is now on prayer. In 2006, the Church eased the rules for the recognition of cures and the first cure since then was announced just two months ago. On March 29 last, the shrine announced the “remarkable healing” of a French invalid, but clearly avoided the terms ‘miracle’, as doctors now shy away from calling an illness incurable. The man, Serge Francois (56), visited the shrine in 2002 and said he felt a sharp pain in his left leg after bathing in the spring. He said he thought he would die but, minutes later, was able to use his left leg, which has been mostly paralysed for years.

The most famous Irish case is that of Dublin man Peadar Clarke, who says he was cured of MS in 1989. He has spoken many times of how he prayed in despair to a crucifix in his room in Lourdes and Our Lady appeared to him. Within seconds, his body stopped shaking and he could stand. His MS has not returned but, after several failed hip replacements, Mr Clarke is now confined to a wheelchair. He continues to visit Lourdes and has brought several Irish pilgrims with him. The pull of the place is hard to explain, particularly as you sit waiting at the baths being ‘ssshed’ and shuffled along by one officious French helper. Before I can form the words ‘pompous man on a power trip’ in my cynical head, I am knocked sideways by the experience that follows.

Nothing can prepare you for the unspeakable cold of the shrine’s baths or the overwhelming feeling that follows. They say the waters in the baths don’t really wet the body and I’m dumbfounded to see that I am dry in seconds. But that is nothing compared with the indescribable feeling of calm that comes afterwards — and lasts for days. It’s easy to understand why helpers Majella Power and Maeve Murray both say that you have to experience this place to understand it. “It’s a really rewarding experience,” adds volunteer Caitriona Yeomans. “I get so much back. It’s the kids’ energy that I feed off. You can be a child for a week and go a bit mad. Nobody is judged here.”

What Dr Emmet O’Brien really likes about this whole thing is the way the kids look after each other. “People are at different levels and they become firm friends,” he says. However, everyone in Group 61 agrees that the real miracle workers on this trip are the young people. As Mary Kelly puts it, “They are the ones who make us better people.”

- Clodagh Finn