Jeannie loved the car.
It had huge sentimental value
but Jeannie needed the money
so the car had to go.
Jeannie had buyers lined up
who seemed very interested
in the car
but Jeannie was afraid
of not getting a fair price
as she didn’t really know
that much about cars.

Oh, dear!

Her son, Andy, stepped into the breach,
saying he would be happy to meet the buyers
and negotiate a fair price with them.

Andy was true to his word
and, when the day came,
Jeannie simply introduced Andy
to the buyers
and Andy took over.

Jeannie watched.

Andy smiled, shook hands
and chatted in a relaxed manner
as he showed the buyers
around the car,
explaining all of the mechanical details
confidently and truthfully.
A short while later,
Andy shook hands with the buyers again,
money was counted out,
car keys were handed-over
and the buyers left with a wave
and a smile.

Jeannie watched all of this,
absolutely fascinated.
Could this amiable, self-assured,
business-like young man
really be her Andy?

Jeannie was seeing her Andy
in a whole new light
and she felt a glow of pride.
Wow!

Sometimes I wonder
what Our Lady and St Joseph thought
when they found Jesus in the temple
after losing Him three long days earlier.

What did Our Lady and St Joseph think
when they spied Jesus,
deep in conversation
with the Jewish teachers?
This didn’t look like an exchange
between adults and a child;
rather it was more like man-to-man
with everyone listening intently and respectfully,
and nodding
as a conversation took place
that was obviously stimulating
and thought-provoking.

Jesus looked so different
from the wee boy
who used to help Joseph
in the workshop
or run about the streets playing
with friends.

Looking at Jesus,
Our Lady and St Joseph must have felt
a huge sense of relief
that He had been found.

I suspect that they also felt
a glow of pride.

But might they also have felt
a hint of apprehension
as they wondered
what lay ahead for Jesus
as He prepared to enter
this adult world?

The highs and lows of parenthood –
something found in all families
(even the Holy Family!)

© Claire Murray, 25th March 2026

It’s that time of year again –
the time when we divide the plants
that return year after year.
We take a healthy, sturdy plant
and divide it into several
(or sometimes many!)
smaller plants.

That’s what we’re doing today –
dividing our Black Eyed Susan’s.
At the moment,
they’re just hefty, leafy clumps.
We pull and cut them apart
and, after a while,
dozens and dozens of tiny plants
lie on the grass,
ready to be planted.

Most of the plants
divide cleanly
but every now and again,
a wee plant gets damaged
and is lost.

When this happens
Paul is devastated –
every … single … time.

Dozens of wee plants
lie waiting to be planted.
Is one wee lost plant
really that important?
Well, it is to Paul
who laments the loss
of even the tiniest plant.

And that’s sort of how it is
with God.
He loves every single one of us
deeply.
No matter how old or weak
or insignificant we might be
in the eyes of others,
we are precious, loved and cherished
by God.
He wants each one of us
to be saved.

Each of our Black Eyed Susan’s,
so terribly important to Paul
and each one of us,
so precious to God.

I can’t help feeling
that dividing those plants
has given me a wee, tiny glimpse
into the infinite love
that God has for us.

Isn’t that amazing?

© Claire Murray, 11th March 2026

It’s raining … again.
There’s been so much rain recently.
“Is it ever going to stop?”
I ask my good friend, Josie.
“Wait to you see”, replies Josie,
“It’ll be great for the daffodils!”

And Daffodil Cottage pops
into my mind
(at least, that’s what I call it!)
It’s an old, deserted, stone cottage
with a red, corrugated iron roof
that stands on a hillside
just outside Dungiven.

Any paths or laneways
have long since disappeared
and now it stands, all alone,
at the top of a long field.

You know, I never even knew
that it was there …
until one day I drove past
in daffodil season
and spied hundreds of daffodils
growing in the field,
just in front of the wee house,
shining all golden
in the sunlight.

It really was quite a sight!

Amazing to think that every year,
the daffodils continue to bloom
so many years after being planted
by a keen gardener
who is long since gone.

Maybe after all this rain,
the daffodils will be
even more resplendent
than usual?

I do hope so!

(But I also offer up a quick prayer –
Please, Lord, let the rain end soon!)

© Claire Murray, 10th February 2026

In 1974, Philippe Petit
did the unthinkable –
he constructed a tight-rope
between the twin towers
of the World Trade Center.
Then, armed only with
a long balancing-rod,
he crossed the tight-rope,
moving back and forth,
between the towers
while fascinated New Yorkers
watched, transfixed
more than 1,000 feet below.

Such skill, such nerve,
such a feat!

I know a tight-rope walker.
Her name is Reshma
and she walks a tight-rope
every day.

This tight-rope is not one
carefully constructed
by Reshma
and it’s certainly not one
that she has chosen
but it’s one that she walks,
by necessity.

This is the tight-rope
of life.
It’s challenging, un-nerving
and uncertain.

And as she walks this tight-rope,
Reshma, too, has a balancing-rod –
her faith,
a faith that is deep
and strong as steel.

Armed with this faith,
Reshma walks her tight-rope,
keeping her eyes looking
straight-ahead –
at Jesus.

Reshma never takes her eyes
off Jesus
and Jesus never takes His eyes
off Reshma.

And no matter how exhausting,
excruciating, frustrating
her daily tight-rope walk may be,
one thing is certain –
Reshma is never alone.
She has Jesus before her
as her guide.

Reshma and Jesus walk this tight-rope
every single day
together.

Now that’s what I call
inspiring!

© Claire Murray, 29th January 2026

Shortly after being sent
on a training course
I received my first assignment –
an essay on theories of learning.

There followed an afternoon
of staring at a blank page
as I struggled to tackle
such an airy-fairy subject.

Then I remembered something –
a friend of mine had lent me
her notes for that same course.
Plan B began to form in my mind –
if I could read my friend’s essay,
I just might get an idea
of how to start writing
about this waffly topic!

With some sense of expectation
I opened my friend’s folder
only to find printed copies
of the lecturer’s notes,
identical to my own.
Not a single essay in sight!

I realised that I was well and truly
on my own –
there was no Plan B after all!

This all springs to mind
as I pray the Sorrowful Mysteries.
I’m thinking about
the Agony in the Garden,
you see.
Knowing His betrayal to be imminent,
Jesus has gone off on His own
to prepare Himself
for the torturous ordeal
that lies ahead.

As He prays,
Jesus’s anguish and torment
is so great
that even He resorts to
Plan B –
going to His closest friends
for comfort and reassurance.
Except …
when Jesus reaches His friends
He finds them all to be
fast asleep.

There is no Plan B
and Jesus is left to face His terrors
alone.

Life is so often like that –
Plan B simply isn’t
what it’s cracked-up to be
and we find ourselves
desolate and alone.

Except …
we’re not alone
because Jesus is always there
ready to help each one of us
with the challenges of life
if we only ask.

We can’t rely on Plan B –
but we can always rely on Plan God!

© Claire Murray, 3rd December 2023

I’ve twisted my ankle
and I’m not yet able
to go for long walks.
So, after a wee dander
along Tollymore’s tree-lined avenue,
I retire to the car
while Paul and Fiachra head off
for a proper walk!

Tea, followed by the Rosary –
that’s the plan!

Sitting in the back seat of the car,
feet up
and cup of tea in hand,
I glance up at the car-roof window
and I notice a blue winter sky,
so clear
and so beautiful!
I smile to myself.

Then, tea finished,
it’s time for the Rosary.

Opening my eyes
as I finish the Rosary,
I find a surprise.
There, framed in the car-roof window,
is a perfect white cross
in a blue sky.

Wow!

Planes flying overhead
have criss-crossed,
leaving this beautiful cross
in our car window
for me to see.
I feel truly blessed
to have seen it
and I sense God’s hand
at work.

A short time later,
Paul and Fiachra return,
eyes shining as they tell tales
of deer and red squirrels
in the forest.
I’m delighted for them
because they saw something
that was special.
But I’m aware
that I saw something special too –
that cross in the sky.

And I feel truly blessed!

© Claire Murray, December 2025

Mammy told us many things
when we were wee.
Some of these
I have discounted over time
(such as our family being descended
from the kings of Derry and Donegal!)
Others, I have held onto.
Such as Mammy’s instruction
regarding moths –
“Never kill a moth
because it could be
a handsome prince
in disguise.”

To this day,
I never knowingly kill a moth
(even though I know for a fact
that it’s not a handsome prince!)

So today,
when I spotted a tiny moth
in our bathroom,
I rushed to get a plastic cup
to rescue him.
But as I moved towards him,
cup in hand,
the moth leapt about two inches
into the air
before falling down motionless
on the window sill.

“Oh dear!”
I thought to myself,
“I’ve given him a heart-attack!”

Saddened,
I placed the plastic cup
over the wee moth
and left the bathroom.
Ten minutes later
I checked the bathroom.
There was no sign of life
but I just couldn’t bring myself
to squish the wee moth.

Imagine my surprise
a short time later
when I went into the bathroom
and the moth was no longer
on the windowsill –
he was at the very top
of the plastic cup
on the inside!

He was alive after all!

Within a few minutes
the wee moth had been released
into the front garden.

Yay!!!

Later on
I find myself thinking
about the wee moth …

That wee moth was beautiful.
He was created by God
Who blessed it with the nature
to play dead when in danger.
and Who went to all the trouble
of creating a wile, wile wee heart
inside that tiny body.

I find myself thinking …
if God cares that much
about a wee, tiny moth,
how much more does He care
about each one of us?

And I also find myself thinking …
that wee moth surprised me
enormously …
how much more
will God surprise me,
if only I give Him the chance?

Isn’t God is truly wonderful ?
(far better than a handsome prince,
for sure!)

© Claire Murray, 2nd January 2026