Four years ago, the Catholic high school where I teach experienced a joyous event—a baby boom! Eight teachers across different departments were expecting babies at the same time. I was one of them. Our due dates spanned from December through October, which certainly presented a logistical challenge for our administration. The atmosphere was a mix of baby-bump excitement, calendar-clashing chaos, and emotional exhaustion.
The frenzy spilled into the following year, as coordinating coverage for nursing moms who needed to pump multiple times a day was no small task. For the teachers, juggling the roles of educator and “mom” was uncharted territory. Thankfully, we had each other to empathize with and share newfound wisdom. We jokingly dubbed ourselves the “Le Leche Club,” after the image of Our Lady of Le Leche (the Blessed Virgin nursing the infant Jesus). One of our members even bought us all keychains with this image for Christmas.
This past March, my daughter—who had been part of that baby boom—was playing with my keys and became enchanted by the keychain of Our Lady of Le Leche. Daily, she would ask to see it, turn it over in her tiny, pudgy fingers, and delight in the sight of Mary holding a baby.
During one of these moments, I wondered how far we lived from Saint Augustine, Florida, the home of the American shrine to Our Lady of Le Leche. Upon realizing it was just hours away, we quickly planned a family pilgrimage. Two months later, we hit the road, only to discover we knew very little about the shrine and the devotion itself. We researched as we traveled and uncovered a history richer than we could have imagined.
The Ripples of a Midnight Feeding
It was the middle of the night when angels warned Joseph of the looming threat to his family’s safety in Bethlehem. He woke Mary, and in a rush, they fled to Egypt. Tradition tells us that they didn’t make it far before they had to stop so Mary could nurse Jesus. Seeking shelter in one of the red-rocked caves common to the region, our Lady fed and soothed our Infant Lord. In their haste, drops of milk fell to the floor, transforming the color of the stone from red to white and coating it in a soft, milky powder.
It is a mystery how the cave became known to others and when exactly it was realized that the space granted special graces. In AD 385, the first structure was built over the cave. Around the same time, a fresco of our Lady nursing the infant Jesus—possibly the earliest known image of Mary, the Mother of God—was painted in the Catacomb of Priscilla in Rome. By the sixth and seventh centuries, relics (small stones from the grotto in Bethlehem) began appearing in Europe and the East, evidence that pilgrims were drawn to the site from all over the world. Devotion to Our Lady of the Milk spread outside the Holy Land like ripples on a pond—gently, slowly. Its quiet presence seemed to echo the humility of our Lady herself.
In the Middle Ages, the devotion surged in popularity throughout Europe. The nursing Madonna became a favored depiction among artists. By the sixteenth century, when King Philip II ruled Spain, the people interceded to Our Lady of the Milk for a pregnant woman who was not expected to survive labor. When both mother and child survived, love and devotion to Our Lady of Le Leche were solidified in the hearts of that generation.
In the following century, Spaniards carried this devotion with them to the Americas, erecting a shrine in her honor in Saint Augustine, Florida—the first shrine to the Blessed Mother on U.S. soil, though centuries before the country itself was established.
Milk for Me—and for You
Discovering these details, our family pilgrimage felt much more intimate. Our wedding took place on New Year’s Eve; our Mass was a vigil celebration of the Solemnity of Mary, the Mother of God (the feast the following day). What struck me was that the earliest known depictions of Theotokos—Mary, the Mother of God—were of her nursing the Infant Lord.
Moreover, the flight into Egypt has always brought comfort to our marriage. We can relate to the journey: the distance from family, living in an unfamiliar place, feeling like outsiders, and seeking ways to provide for our family. To learn that the devotion to Our Lady of Le Leche originates from this event made the experience feel personal—suddenly, it seemed as if our Lady had left that drop of milk behind for us. Two thousand years later, she was beckoning us to come and be nourished. Our Mother, knowing we, too, would need care and sustenance, had provided a generous drop for us to drink.
Nursing Hope in the Midst of Grief
Filled with awe and renewed affection, we arrived at the shrine, nestled amid the hustle of the city. Strangely, the busyness felt fitting—poetic even—as it echoed the rush of the Holy Family on that fateful night when they were fleeing danger. Even more fitting—and completely unexpected—were the seven stations lining the pathway to the chapel. They depicted the seven sorrows of Mary.
These stations served as an acknowledgment that in this life motherhood and sorrow accompany one another. Yet, these sorrows line the path to the arms of an image of our Lady nursing our Savior. She was the milk for our Bread, who provides mothers with the grace they need to face those sorrows—whether the sorrow of infertility, the woes of nursing, the loss of a child, or any sort of struggle.
Our Mother invites us to live courageously through the sorrow, imitating her own focus on her Son. On that night in Bethlehem so many centuries ago, she could have acted differently amidst the circumstances. She could have concluded there was no time to give her Son. Instead, in the midst of great threat, she stopped to focus on Him. She invites us to do the same amidst our turmoils.
Find Solace Where Christ Himself Found Comfort
In the long-standing tradition of the Church, we recognize that Jesus is the firstborn of creation, the firstborn of Mary, and we, the Church, are her second-born children. As her beloved offspring, we are called to turn to her in every season of life, especially in our moments of sorrow, struggle, and uncertainty.
Just as Our Lady of Le Leche offered milk to her Son to comfort and calm Him, she now offers it to us. Let us come to her with childlike hearts, seeking nourishment and solace on our flights from the evils of this world.
Our Lady of Le Leche, pray for us!
Grace Bellon is a wife, mom, and high school theology teacher who has spent years walking with young people as they wrestle with faith, identity, and the ache for something more. She writes from the heart of a classroom, the hustle of family life, and the quiet corners where the Lord speaks most tenderly. She believes in miracles, mercy, and the delicate art of balancing home-cooked meals with takeout nights. Her sweetest joys are found in the company of one man who keeps her coffee cup full, her children who keep her laundry baskets fuller, and the Eucharist which fills her heart and soul.
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