Monthly Archives: April 2012

Benedictus

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I stand in the kitchen one evening
busily preparing the dinner
for my family.
In the background I can hear my new CD –
the debut album of The Priests.
Some of the songs I recognise
but many are unfamiliar to me.
I continue to prepare the dinner.

Another song begins.
I later learn that it is called “Benedictus”.
For some reason
I find myself drawn into this song,
which I have never heard before
and whose words I don’t understand.
The singing is gentle, reassuring, comforting.
I stop what I’m doing.

I feel as if I’m in another world
in which I am about eight years old,
with dark hair tied up in a pig tail.
I am curled up
in the corner of a dark red couch
before a blazing fire.

The room is cosy.
I feel welcome, safe and loved.
I am at rest.
I see no-one but I have a strong sense
of being in the presence of My God,
My Daddy
and I have a conviction
that I’m in God’s study,
that everything’s going to be alright.

The song ends
and I find myself back in the kitchen,
stunned
and I think, “Wow!”

Watch Benedictus on YouTube

© Claire Murray

Tiny Toddler

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Today a tiny toddler joyfully climbed out
from the confines of his buggy
in the grounds of Belfast City Hall.
This was his opportunity to explore!
He set off.

Wherever he went
his parents followed
at a slight distance,
keeping a watchful eye,
ready to give help if needed.

The green grass looked inviting
in the sunlight.
But there was a problem –
there was a step up to the grass
and this tiny toddler
wasn’t quite steady enough
to negotiate it on his own.

He stopped before the step,
looked down at it
and paused.
Then he raised his left hand in the air
and turned to his Mammy,
convinced that she was the solution
to his problem.

He was right!
His Mammy smiled,
took his hand
and helped him up the step.
In the same way
she helped him up another step
and another one …

In the faces of the parents
I saw pride, patience, pleasure,
delight and love.
In the tiny toddler
I saw curiosity, security, trust
and total confidence.

I was reminded that in my spiritual life
I need to become
like that tiny toddler,
trusting,
in the presence of My God,
My Daddy. © Claire Murray

Look, No Hands!

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Guess what I did today!
I cycled down leafy,
tree-lined Malone Park
with no hands!
Imagine!
Aren’t I great?
I’d been trying to do that for years
and had never been able to do it.

Why was today different
from all of the other days
when I tried and failed?
I don’t know.
All I know is that today
it felt right
and it felt like fun!

I can’t help feeling
that other goals in my life
that usually feel impossible
really aren’t impossible after all.
All I need to do
is to be patient,
trust in My God
and to keep on trying.

© Claire Murray

Giving Birth

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Claire,

Do you remember
when you were expecting
Pól Óg, Aoife and Niamh?
Do you remember
how you felt strongly
that it wasn’t a case of,
“I’m expecting a baby”,
but rather,
“We’re expecting a baby?”

Undeniably, you were the one
who bore each child
and who gave birth to each child.
But this was very much
a joint venture.
You never felt alone.
Do you remember
long hours in the labour ward,
when pain seemed to last
for an eternity?
Do you remember
when the pain got so intense
that you felt
that you could no longer bear it?

Do you remember
Paul by your side constantly,
his love for you more intense
than the pain you were enduring?
Do you remember Paul
holding your hand,
encouraging you,
praising you,
telling you how proud he was of you?

Do you remember
your conviction
that the throes of child birth
were easier for you to endure
than it was for Paul
to watch you suffer?
And don’t you still believe that?

Paul couldn’t endure the pain for you,
much as he longed to.
Yet his role in the birth of your children
was crucial;
his support was invaluable.
Paul participated intimately in the birth
of each of your children.
His role was not passive.

That’s how it is with me
when you invite me into your life.
I love you, I guide you,
I support you, I encourage you,
I delight in you, I am proud of you.
My role is not passive;
I become intimately involved in your life.

Remember,
you’re never on your own;
we’re in this together.

© Claire Murray

Unspoken Question

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Lord,

Yesterday,
for the first time in months,
I got to cycle past the Two Balls
that straddle the West Link.

As I approached these massive spheres
I felt a question begin to surface
in my mind
and I sensed you laughing,
calling out in a sing-song voice,
“Claire, I know
what you’re going to ask!”
I laughed and you continued,
“And the answer’s “Yes! Yes! Yes!”

I cycled on, delighted
at your joyful response
to my unspoken question
which had been,
“Lord,
is it possible for me
to not only sing without fear,
but to actually enjoy doing it?”

Lord,
you are just brimming over
with possibilities!

© Claire Murray

Easter Saturday at St Aengus’s

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Lord,
As I set out on my holiday on Easter Saturday,
I called into the chapel of St Aengus.
It’s an unusual wee chapel which is round in shape
and takes as its inspiration
the ancient round fort of Grianán of Aileach
which proudly crowns the hill at Burt.

The sun, shining through stained glass,
painted the walls in multi-coloured tones.
Light filtered through the steeple
that forms a peak in the roof,
gently illuminating the ceiling
with soft, white light.
In the sunlight, the chapel of St Aengus
was undeniably beautiful.

But something was missing –
You.
The tabernacle doors lay wide open,
displaying a gaping, black interior.
No sanctuary lamp adorned the altar.
The usual sense of peace found in this house of God
had been replaced
by a sense of emptiness, absence,
void and vacuum.
On this Easter Saturday,
the chapel of St Aengus looked beautiful
but felt bleak.

I look forward, on my return journey,
to paying another visit to the church of St Aengus.
This time, I anticipate a sense
of warmth and welcome,
prayer, peace and Presence.
I look forward to the comforting, red glow
of the sanctuary lamp
which will gently assure me,
“God is home again!
He has returned!
Welcome!”

(c) Claire Murray

Long Road

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Lord,
I have a bird’s eye view
of a long, long road
that stretches through valleys
and away up high,
into a range of mountains.

I have a sense
that I am on that road,
making my way,
on foot,
up the high slopes.
My progress is slow
and I find myself thinking,
“Oh, I’ve such a long way to go!”
I feel disappointed.

Then I sense
a light touch on my arm,
a shake of the head,
a smile
and the most gentle of remonstrations.

“Claire,
it’s not that you have got
a long way to go,
but that we’ve got
a long way to go.
Remember,
this is a journey that we make
together.”

© Claire Murray

Where Were They?

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Lord,
Where were they on that day?
When angry crowds
were whipped into a frenzy
by jealous religious leaders
and hoards of people
were baying for Your precious blood,
where were they?
All of those people
whom You healed?
The people whose lives You touched?
The crowds who hung
on Your every word?
Where were they on that day?

The ten lepers you cleansed?
The lame man by the pool
whom you made walk?
The paralysed man
lowered down through the roof?
The woman with the haemorrhage?
Tiny Nicodemus who scaled a tall tree
just to catch a glimpse of You?
The five thousand whom you fed?
Where were they on that day?

Were they among the crowd?
Did they get carried away
by mass hysteria?
Did they roar, “Crucify Him!”
or did they simply remain silent,
too terrified to speak
in an incensed and angry mob?

Yet what haunts me
is that I wonder
whether, in those circumstances,
I would have had the courage
to speak up for you myself?

© Claire Murray

All On Your Own

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Lord,
You knew what lay ahead of You –
humiliation, torture, agony
and eventually,
death.
In the meantime
You were trying to overcome
feelings of terror and trepidation.

You were being asked
to subject yourself
to a violent and brutal execution.
And did you ask Your Father
to let you opt out?
Well, You thought about it
but decided against it.
Instead, You decided
to make the ultimate sacrifice
for us.

But in Your humanity
You did ask for one thing,
one small thing –
company.
You asked your closet companions
to stay awake,
to watch for one hour
so that you wouldn’t have
to face this ordeal
all on Your own.

Even that small luxury
was denied to you
as your companions,
unaware of what lay ahead,
fell asleep one by one.
You were left to endure
a long night of terror, dread and distress
all on Your own.

Three times
you approached your companions
seeking the solace of friends.
Three times
you were disappointed
and You were forced to confront
the longest and most dreadful of nights
all on Your own.

(c) Claire Murray