On Tuesday evening I was leaving Urlaur Church after Mass and noticed a lovely sunset so went as quickly as I could to Urlaur Abbey and Lake. Most of these photos are from that journey! There’s another from the following evening, taken in Naomh Mobhi Cemetery, Kilmovee. Just thought I’d share!
In fairness, the title betrays my preference or prejudice, depending which way you look at it! I’d like to think Faith, but you can decide ….
On Friday I went to St Nathy’s College Hall to visit a Trade Exhibition of local businesses. Part of the #LetsConnect initiative, it was organised by the local branch of the Bank of Ireland and was, it has to be said, a very impressive display. Everything, almost without exception, under the roof was the work of local businesses and the goods and services displayed were all within easy access. The array was vast – sports from GAA to Cricket, electronics from light bulbs to high end technology, food, builders’ suppliers, fitted kitchens, car service and sales (I could go for a plug there but I won’t!!!), dress-making, model building, security, community services and much, much more. As I say, a very impressive display and I was glad to be there.
Mickey Harte, the Tyrone Manager, was the guest speaker and spoke of the need to support the local and recognise the gifts within our own community. He spoke too of there being no point getting too caught up in the rat-race of life and concluded, the problem with “rat-races” is that a rat always wins!! Good one Mickey:)
Anyway, back to the Sacred Heart. On Thursday last I went into one of those local shops and its from there I take these few lines.
It was Padraig Mulligan’s Shop, though the name over the door, like the shop itself, belongs to another generation, J Mulligan. Jimmy and his brother Paddy had two hardware shops in town and I remember both from my own childhood. There wasn’t much you could want that would not be found in either or both. I remember their funerals as well, the two brothers died within a day of each other, may they rest in peace.
Back to Padraig’s. I went in to pay for paint. Padraig was dealing with some customers – a man and his wife whose little boy ran round the shop with a wild abandon that I admired and envied at the same time. I’m not sure where he was in the world of imagination but Disney World would have had to work hard and pull out all the stops to compete. He ran past me several times, his speed and tone suggesting that my presence was of little if any relevance in his world. I couldn’t blame him for that. His mother’s call to come back was heard, responded to but short lived. As soon as she and her husband spoke again with Padraig, his circuit recommenced. He was enthralled by the place.
I decided to do the circuit too but at a slower pace. I’m not suggesting the boy and I saw the same things or at least saw them in the same way but I could see where his sense of adventure found its roots.
The first thing I saw was a new Circle Saw. The blade was thankfully covered with its safety shield but I thought how weary I’d be of using a Circle Saw. Another’s tool for sure. I thought nonetheless isn’t it great you could get that here. I saw a variety of lamps, some solar powered, others rechargeable, more for decoration and others for the day to day living of life. There were lovely galvanised buckets and I thought of getting one – and will – but not that day. There was cutlery, dinner services, cups, mugs, travel adapters, USB charges, bluetooth headphones, speakers, smartphone cases, there were paints for indoors and outdoors and all you’d need for their application. fireguards, fire sets, telephones, radios and countless more items. In the middle of them all, minding its own business you could say, was a new picture of The Sacred Heart. I smiled and thought you must feel at home here. More than smile, I rejoiced that in the midst of all that was on sale and considered necessary to stock was “the little bit of religion”. As necessary as any item in the shop. Of course if you bought it, the tools needed for hanging it could be found there too.
There’s also a bar in the shop. It sits quietly to the back and those who sit in it tend towards quietness as well. The man that serves the drink is now giving advice on paint and his advice is momentarily interrupted. There’s a man at the door who looks the worse of having had a bit too much to drink. I hear Padraig telling him; “The supplier didn’t come yet and I’m not sure he’ll be here this evening”. What could the man want that was not available in this shop? He wanted what the man behind the counter felt he did not need – a bottle of vodka. Again, I thought of the Sacred Heart in the midst of circle saws and clocks and felt He’d be happy to hear that response “insofar as you did it for one of these, you did it for me”.
The man left the shop, I’m sure, more than a little disappointed but likely to a safer place and in time to an appreciation that the bottle and he were better kept apart. I left the shop, glad of the local that is community and grateful that faith, like tradition, is handed through the generations.
I listened to two TED Talks yesterday. As one who overdoes the “comma”, I am glad I’m not submitting anything to the New Yorker Magazine!! Mary Norris, Copy Editor with the New Yorker, is a tough cookie when it comes to grammar.
The second talk, by Ann Curzan, deals with changing times in the English Language, with new words and slang and ultimately comes down on the side of the true importance of a language being found in the ability to understand one another. Now that makes sense!
I haven’t posted in a few days so thought I’d include these two talks here. I hope you enjoy them.
See what you think.
[ted id=2479]
[ted id=2022]
Not the most original joke I’ve ever managed but that’s the truth of it. These days I’ve been up in Down. To be more exact, I’ve been in Dromantine, near Newry, the home of the SMA Missionary Society and a Conference Centre.
My reason for being here is a Diocesan Priests’ Retreat and I’ve been meeting with some of the priests of the Diocese of Clogher. The days have been very enjoyable. There’s a lovely energy around meeting and talking with a group of priests and, in that meeting, I am reminded what made me want to be a priest in the first place – that sense of decent men, doing their best. Of course, life has taught me that it’s not always that simple but the truth remains, priests are doing their best to be their best.
Anyway, I don’t want to write about that just now. I’m just in from a walk (The Darkness Into Light must have spurred me on!!). I don’t know how far I walked but it was pleasant. I didn’t really talk to anyone along the way – apart from the odd wave and hello – but tried to notice what was around me.
A few images – among them four dogs in a field. Their owner was totally in charge and almost got them to pose for me. Cattle in another field walked towards me to see who was passing the road. Near a house I noticed a small model house built into the garden. I wondered was it done at some stage for a child of the house and if so, is that child still there or long gone. Either way, the structure is there and looked well. I spotted the sign for Dromantine and in smaller letters “African Missions” and thought of countless young men from all over Ireland who travelled here not knowing really where “here” was but just in response to what they believed was a call to Missionary Priesthood. I spotted lovely colours along the way, a lamp – not yet lit – that will when needed cast light into darkness. Lastly, the lake in the shadow of Dromantine and two little ducks, doing what ducks do so well – afloat and at ease in each other’s company.
See what you think …
Today is Ascension Day – when we recall Jesus’ leaving this earth’s surface to be drawn into the Heavens. It’s a moment of separation and a moment of promise.
In recent days we have heard much talk about the Boeing 767 making its way around the West Coast of Ireland from its home in Shannon, Co. Clare to its new home in Enniscrone, Co. Sligo. The story has captured people’s imaginations and, quite literally, thousands of people watched its journey.
The story had its genesis in the mind of a local man, David McGowan, who saw the plane being transformed from a parked and empty shell to become a home where people could camp, enjoy Co. Sligo and explore the West of Ireland. The idea took root, form and shape and is well on the way now to being realised.
As the plane made its way along the West Coast, carried on a barge brought in from Southampton the thing that struck me most was the “clipped” wings. The plane could never fly again. I imagine its engines too have been decommissioned but even if they’re not, without wings, there’s no more flying for #planesailing or #767Enniscrone as it became known on Twitter.
That image of wings sits well with today’s Feast Day. Wings of prayer. Wings of Old and New Testament, wings of Faith that allow us rise above our doubts and darkness to see what may have become blurred and find what may have been lost.
As the plane made its final journey into Enniscrone last night, there was a waiting involved – waiting for the “high tide” that would allow the plane be “beached”. I’ve no doubt there was gratitude for that high tide and you’d like to think David and all there, found time to say “thanks be to God” for the wonders of nature and the stirrings of the sea. That gratitude is at the heart of all we are meant to be about in life.
So, the question of the day, for me anyway, looks to gratitude and to those for whom we must be grateful. People and situations, God and Faith that is the “wind beneath our wings” and allows us soar above our doubts, worries and pains to find peace for the moment and strength for the journey.
Gratitude for wings unclipped … gratitude for the wind beneath them …. gratitude for stories that can still capture our imagination. Gratitude for Jesus’ ministry on Earth, his Ascension and promise to send us, as he has done, the Holy Spirit. The Holy Spirit who ensures good ideas become lived reality …..
and the song to go with it ….
