Earlier this month I visited the home of a little girl who was very ill and who, sadly, has since died. May she be at peace.
I’d met her and her family a number of times in recent years but had not been to her home before. I felt (and still do) sad for her parents and family but was very taken by the girl’s obvious connection with those around her and, I am totally convinced, with God. As I drove away from her home, trying to make sense of what was going on for this family (and incapable of doing so), a song was playing on the radio. It was the Ronan Collins Show and I’d never heard the song before. I didn’t even realise I was listening to it, to be honest, as my thoughts were in the house and with the family I had just left. Then I heard the chorus:
How can something so fragile leave us helpless We all feel helpless once in a while How can something so fragile leave us humble We all need humble once in a while.
It described exactly what I was feeling – helpless and humble. I wished that I could do more for this girl and her family – we all did – and much was done to try to help but at day’s end we were, all of us, helpless. This little girl humbled me to the core because I knew she experienced a connection with God and with Our Lady that was very personal to her. She had visited with her family many of the Shrines and Pilgrimage Sites that are part of our faith. She had brought from them a comfort that seems to have run very deep. It’s certain that, even in her tender years, she knew more of God’s love for her than many of us and that she found there a strength that she may or may not have put into words.
The song is called “Dragonflies” and I know virtually nothing about them. I’ve wondered though. I checked a little and see now that dragonflies live most of their lives beneath the water in a sort of tadpole state. In the summer they emerge from the water, fully formed and glorious in colour, complex in make-up, and extremely agile. Their lifespan in this state is very short-lived and they disappear, in many cases, almost as quickly as they arrived.
The songwriter ponders their journey, uniqueness and the difference they make. (Today I noticed a story on line that the distinctive movement of dragonflies’ wings can destroy bacteria and that scientists are trying to develop a way of replicating this movement so that bacteria can be broken down before it causes harm). The song, to me, is saying that the dragonfly is noticed, special and forever cherished. Though small and fragile, it makes a massive contribution to our world.
That’s what I want to say about Doireann – the little girl – that’s what I want to say to her parents, sister, grandparents and friends. Yes she humbled us, yes she made us feel helpless but in her six years she made a real difference. Like the dragonfly, most of those years she was a little girl, living primarily under the surface and in the watch of her family and those who loved her most. In sickness, she rose to the surface, and made all of us realise how special and treasured – how unique and gifted – her life. She made a real difference and we are better people because she lived.
The song, by Eddi Reader, is included below. The child, Doireann, is in our hearts. The need to remember her family and to remember her continues.
A lost summer’s day, a lifetime away What do you find Slow turning sun, with somewhere to run On your mind Not the flash that you saw That was gone in the wink of an eye As soon as we’re here, we disappear, like dragonflies.
Their miracle blue can never tell you How it came to be Each different kind, accidental designed Before you and me And we ask the whole of our lives maybe there’s no why As soon as we’re here, we disappear, like dragonflies.
How can something so fragile leave us helpless We all feel helpless once in a while How can something so fragile leave us humble We all need humble once in a while.
Did you think of this That each of us know in our hearts we must go And that’s what beauty is And just as the dream you were in dissolved in the morning sky As soon as we’re here, we disappear, like dragonflies.
How can something so fragile leave us helpless We all feel helpless once in a while How can something so fragile leave us humble We all feel humble once in a while.
And now nature can sing such beautiful wings Did you think of this That each of us know in our hearts we must go And that’s what beauty is And just as the dream you were in dissolved in the morning sky As soon as we’re here, we disappear, like dragonflies.
Today we celebrate the Feast of The Presentation in the Temple. I think it’s a lovely Feast Day that sees a young couple responding to tradition whereby their forty day old baby is presented to The Lord. When in Hounduras towards the end of last year with Trocaire, I witnessed something of this at a Sunday Mass when a young couple presented their baby at the Offertory of the Mass and the priest received the baby into his arms, turned towards the Altar and raised the baby on high. The congregation applauded the moment and the parents beamed with happiness. Later we were told the baby was forty days old and that this is tradition too for families there.
Little boy with his parents and the priest after Sunday Mass in Honduras (November 2016)
We bless candles in the churches today. These will be used in our churches during the coming year. People bring candles for blessing too. Some they leave in the church for use there and others they bring home so that there will be “blessed” candles in their homes. Again a lovely tradition.
“Candlemus Day” Kilmovee Parish Church
One of the things I like about this Feast Day is the coming together of generations for that is very much at the heart of the Gospel account. The baby carried by Joseph and Mary, a young couple, are approached by Simeon and Anna, two of the oldest people in the Temple at that moment and a conversation begins. It is a conversation rooted in faith for the old man, Simeon, had been told he’d not die without laying his eyes on “The Christ”. He knew his moment had come and felt drawn to this little family grouping. So too, Anna, who at the age of eighty-four spent all her waking hours in the Temple at prayer. It’s lovely the way they can blend as one around Christ. It always strikes me that the church on any given Sunday is a place where the generations meet under one roof to be together, gathered in faith.
Yesterday we had something of this in our schools when grandparents came along to spend time with their children’s children during Catholic Schools Week. Again, a lovely and memorable moment for all.
Part of “Grandparents’ Gathering” in Kilmovee N.S. Catholic Schools Week 2017
Today we value the generations, respect them, learn from them and, in all that, seek to come to know and recognise Christ.
During the week I spoke with parents of Confirmation Children in a neighbouring parish. I was happy to have the chance to do this as it made me think about our own schools in the parish and the children who are preparing there for the Sacrament of Confirmation. I thought a bit about what I might say to these parents and tried to get an image to put before them.
The notion of crossroads came to mind. For a while I thought it might describe where the boys and girls are at in life and that it’s a place of decision-making. I felt parents would, of course, have a role in that process and help the children to figure out the best road to take. I wanted to make the point that there was a call to be changed by the Sacrament of Confirmation and the outpouring of the Gifts and Fruits of the Holy Spirit and that staying the same wasn’t really an option. I spent a bit of time thinking about this and came to the conclusion that “crossroads” is not the right image. For at a crossroads we have the option of just travelling on the same road, maybe even without much thought or reflection. Even if it’s the wrong road we could easily just travel on our way and not make any real or meaningful change to the journey.
I had second thoughts about the crossroads but still wanted some image that might stay with people and that took account of the “faith” journey the boys and girls are part of. My mind wandered to another intersection we encounter on our travels – the “T” Junction.
It struck me that the T-Junction is a better image because when we reach it, a choice has to be made. At first I thought there were two choices; Left or Right but then realised that there are, in fact, three. We could also choose to go back the road we’ve already travelled and go no further along the way. I would see this as very regrettable. The only way to continue on the journey is to YIELD and make a decision for Left or Right. I believe that is very much a daily choice for all of us and one that teenagers as they celebrate the Sacrament of Confirmation are approaching in a very real way. The decision, you’d hope, is for the RIGHT! The right path, right choices, preferring right to wrong, good to bad and safe to harmful. All we should be about as adults is rooted in offering encouragement that the right path is taken. Even if, for a while, we travel “left” or in the wrong direction the hope remains that the Holy Spirit, the “SAT-NAV” that is our inner and guiding voice will say “Make U-Turn when possible”. That’s the hope but we need to equip people to hear this voice and be able to recognise and follow it.
I had an image and wanted one word that the parents might bring home with them. The word that came to mind is SHARE and I decided to apply a thought or phrase to each letter. We are entering Catholic Schools Week and maybe the word is appropriate to more than just the parents of Confirmation children but, in some way, to all of us as we seek to SHARE the faith with others and help people (ourselves too) to make the right choice at the T-Junction.
S (Show interest)
H (Help with projects)
A (Accompany to church and in prayer)
R (Recall your own stories of faith and traditions from your home)
“The Crib” complete – the Kings have arrived. Twelfth Night
As a child, I remember going to Sligo with my parents on Christmas Eve. We’d go in the afternoon, spend a few hours in Sligo and call to Cloonamahon (then a Passionist Monastery near Collooney) or maybe to the Friary or Cathedral in Sligo and go to Confessions. We’d have a bite to eat as well and I remember these days as being very special.
On our way home, my mother (God rest her) would comment on the candles in the windows of houses. They weren’t electric nor were they “bridges” but single candles burning in the windows of houses. The darkness of the night made them all the more present and my mother would tell us these candles were put there to pave the way for the welcoming of Jesus. Santa Claus was everything to us, as children, but the candles weren’t for him – they were for the Holy Family and meant to guide their way to the Bethlehem Stable. She’d talk about candles in her own home in Cloonloo and the memories she had of them. The candles burned through the night and just for two nights during Christmas; Christmas Eve and the “twelfth night”. On both occasions, people on a journey it seems, needed help to trace their path. People were more than willing to help them. It’s a good memory.
Nowadays candles burn in the windows throughout Christmas and maybe even longer. The wick and wax are replaced by electric “Candle Arches” or LED tee lights. The idea is there but it’s not exactly the same. There’s something about the candle – burning itself away to give light where otherwise there would only be darkness. There’s something too about just lighting on Christmas Eve and the Twelfth Night. Something linking journey with our homes and our homes with people on journey.
We’re at the “twelfth night” now – tomorrow Christmas comes to an end. Somehow we seem to miss this point year after year that, though the Season ends, its purpose remains. The birth of a child marks the end of a pregnancy and months of waiting and hoping that all will be well. It’s not an end though for the life of the child becomes the focus, and the child becoming a boy or girl and in time, man or woman, is the full story. We’d never imagine leaving the baby a baby – even if we wanted to, we couldn’t for life brings with it growth.
So too, the Spiritual Life. We move away from the crib tonight but we journey into the Ministry of Jesus and find again, hear again, his Call to be better people because He lives.
Earlier this Christmas Eve I received a text from a friend – a classmate – saying that he wasn’t sending Christmas Cards this year but wanted to wish me peace and blessings at this special time. I called him back and asked if he was getting mean in his old age. I continued to slag him for a little while and then he said, “you mustn’t have heard that my mother died”. I hadn’t. He went on to say she died the beginning of December. I felt more sorry than embarrassed because I knew he wasn’t trying to embarrass me. He told me his mother had been diagnosed with cancer and died shortly after the diagnosis was given. Needless to say, I was sorry for him.
I told him I’d not heard and of course he knew that because, had I heard, I’d have been there for him over those December days. The reality was the news never reached my ears and I was sorry about that too.
As I prepared for Christmas Eve Mass I thought about Ray, his mother Rosie and how easy it is not to hear news. Gossip is all around us and seems to blow easily on the wind – easily and dangerously – but often the news we need to hear passes by unheard or untold. I wondered does God feel that way sometimes, not least around Christmas and wonder how it is that this Story, this very Sacred story, can remain unheard and untold?
That’s the thought I brought to Mass with me just now and shared with a very full church. I was so happy to see so many people there and wanted them to hear the NEWS that Christ is born but not to remain a baby. He needs to become a Man alongside us and we need to hear his news, some not always easy to hear or understand but news nonetheless that calls us to be better people – decent people.
It’s the choice of this Season in many ways. To hear and be shaped by the news or to settle for gossip. I know which we’re called to and I know how easily we can ignore or park that call. I felt the church tonight was filled with people who want to hear the story and came, in many ways, in response to it but how quickly we can forget and go back to our old ways. We need to be people of the Good News, tuned in to what is real and important in life, otherwise we miss opportunities to be better people, to be with people when they most need us.
Share the news. Avoid the gossip ….
Happy Christmas and thanks, thanks for being my friends. I’m sorry if I missed any important events in your lives and wasn’t there … keep in touch, keep in focus, keep the News, the GOOD news in circulation, even when it might be difficult to hear, understand or accept. If we need to hear it, let it be heard.
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