I’m a 15 year old American girl—made of pure angst, quick vexation, and deeply entrenched embarrassment for my general existence—and I am in France with my family. We’ve traveled to Lourdes, a stunning spot at the bottom of the French Pyrenees. It is home to a holy site, the origin of a spring said to have been brought forth for St. Bernadette by an apparition of the Virgin Mary. Pilgrims from around the world come to bathe in these purportedly healing waters, and now we number among them…