Always a Chance!

Posted on 23 May, 2012 by Claire Murray

Living out in the country,
every time that I drive anywhere
there’s always a chance
that I’ll see something of interest –
a fox and her cub,
a heron patiently poised by the river,
a moorhen darting out in front of me,
a mouse racing across the road.
Usually I see nothing of particular interest –
but there’s always a chance!

As Pentecost approaches each year
I remember how the Holy Spirit
filled the disciples with such joy
that they couldn’t contain their excitement.
The Holy Spirit transformed them,
snuffed out the fear that had subdued them,
shook the very house to its foundations!

As Pentecost approaches, I wonder
whether the Holy Spirit will transform me,
heal me,
help me to overcome my fears,
help me to become all that My God has intended
that I could be?

And so this Pentecost I wait
with a sense of anticipation …
… because there’s always a chance!

Scattered

Posted on 13 May, 2012 by Claire Murray

As a teenager I dismounted my bike
on a calm summer’s day
down by the shore
between Burt and Inch Island.

The sun was reflected on the still water,
forming a perfect, white circle,
almost like a giant Communion host.
A slight breeze blew up
and brushed against the surface of the water,
gently shattering the sun’s reflection,
scattering it into thousands of pieces
across the rippling surface.
The sun’s reflection was gone.

As an adult, life happens each day,
busy and demanding,
pulling me
in a thousand different directions.
Like the sun’s reflection in the water at Burt,
I too feel scattered, spread too thin,
distractedly trying to be
in two places at once!
I feel drained.

In prayer, I still myself.
I try to calm the waters of my life,
which are sometimes gently rippling,
other times stormy.
And as peace slowly comes,
all of those tiny fragments of me
gradually piece themselves together
until I am at last made whole again,
at peace
in the presence of My God.

And at Burt, on calm summer days,
the wind dies down,
the water is still
and for a brief while
the sun is reflected again,
whole,
against the dark water.

Gift From God

Posted on 12 May, 2012 by Claire Murray

A busy Saturday morning was planned
but an engagement was cancelled
so we packed a quick picnic,
jumped in the car
and headed off to Portglenone
in search of bluebells.

Bluebell season was just beginning
and the hillsides of Portglenone
were deep purple,
swathed in bluebells
that had recently opened.

Because it was so early in the season
we almost had the forest to ourselves
and it felt as if we were getting
a sneak preview.

As we wandered along paths and tracks
with bluebells on all sides,
I savoured being surrounded by purple,
my favourite colour.
Worries and cares about home and work
simply slipped away.
I relaxed and felt a deep sense of peace.

As we dandered along,
I felt that My God was bestowing on me
a wonderful gift –
the beauty of his bluebells and
this unexpected time with my family.
My God was giving to me
a break from all of my concerns.
He was giving to me an oasis of calm
in my hectic life.
I felt My God saying,
“Claire, all of this is my gift to you!
Enjoy it!”

So that’s what I did!
I basked in beauty of this purple haven,
in the company of my family
and I felt truly blessed!

Teach Me to Sing Without Fear?

Posted on 11 May, 2012 by Claire Murray

I am tiny,
only about six years’ old.
I stand before Jesus,
looking up at him.
I tug at his garment.

Jesus looks down,
sees me there,
smiles
and gets down on his knees
so that he’s right at my level.

I look into his twinkling eyes
and say,
“Will you teach me to sing
without fear?”

Jesus grins and says,
“Of course!
And don’t worry,
it’s just like learning to ride a bike!”

The Day Everything Changed?

Posted on 9 May, 2012 by Claire Murray

Lord,
is today going to be the day
when everything changed?

I had been confident,
reassured by the high success rate
of this procedure.
But last night I remembered something
that Dolores said to me recently,
“Danny hasn’t been himself for months”
and doubt crept in.

I have watched a small, red spot
grow into a large, weeping sore.
I find myself wondering
what lurks beneath the surface.
I’m concerned.

Lord,
today Danny will catch a glimpse
of his cancer,
will get his first hint
of how much of his body
it has laid claim to.
It’s scary!

Lord,
bless Danny today.
Give him the courage
to take a long, hard look
at his physical self
and to accept
what he is shown there.
Give him the strength
to fight for what can be won,
to accept what he cannot change
and to place himself, in trust,
in your loving hands.

Meanwhile I sit and wait,
wondering whether today will be the day
when everything changed.

Act of Love

Posted on 5 May, 2012 by Claire Murray

Today I watched my youngest daughter, Niamh,
perform a wonderful act of love –
she ate the stew that I had prepared for dinner.

Dinner had not quite gone according to plan.
I had made stew, a favourite of mine.
But while I tucked in my family members,
one by one, conceded defeat,
made their excuses,
pushed their bowls of stew over to me
and left the table.
Eventually only Niamh and I remained.

Four bowls of stew were now in front of me,
and I was disappointed to see my favourite dinner
going to waste.
Then I brightened as I thought,
“At least the cat can get the mince!”

Niamh, meanwhile struggled on,
though I could see this was difficult for her.
She looked up, caught me looking at her
and said, defensively, “I’m eating my mince!”

Immediately I thought,
“Niamh’s eating the cat’s dinner!”
and I exploded,
laughing so hard that it hurt
and I could hardly breathe.
I scribbled out a quick note
to explain my unexpected behaviour.

That was the end of the stew.
It was a truly memorable dinner
because of the hilarity that it caused.
But it was also memorable
because of Niamh’s dogged determination
to eat a dinner that she detested
to spare my feelings.

It really was
a wonderful act of love.

My Daddy

Posted on 5 May, 2012 by Claire Murray

My Daddy has big, blue eyes,
big, bushy eyebrows
and big soft hands.
My Daddy is a big softie.

When I’m going to Derry
My Daddy buys in
my favourite sticky buns
from Doherty’s bakery.
My Daddy brings me to Fiorentini’s
for banana splits.
My Daddy instructs me
not to work too hard
or too late.

As a first year student at Thornhill
I was convinced
that My Daddy had the most important job
of all of the Daddies in my class.
I proudly told my class mates
that every year
My Daddy picked the Christmas tree for Derry
that would stand outside the Guildhall.
I was so proud of him!

But the most important thing
about My Daddy
is that My Daddy loves me
and makes me feel special.
In the love that My Daddy has for me
I catch a brief glimpse of the love
that My God has for me
and I feel truly blessed.

No matter how grown-up I am,
or how many responsibilities I undertake in life,
in My Daddy’s eyes,
I’m still his wee girl,
his Wee Dote.

When I say the words, “My Daddy”,
I always say them with pride
and with love.

In Conversation With God

Spiritual Reflections by Claire Murray

Monthly Archives: May 2012