Green Fingers

Danny had green fingers.
When he died
he left behind
not only a glorious garden
filled with flowers, shrubs and trees
but he also left behind
dozens of pots and planters
filled with cuttings, seedlings,
tiny slips of plants
and even cactuses!
Danny gave to each of these plants
the exact same thing –
the opportunity to grow.
“Sure give it a chance”,
he would say about an ailing plant,
“you never know what it will do!”

Danny tended to these wee plants
and, indeed, many of them thrived
under his patient and loving care.

I was reminded of Danny
today at Mass
when we all heard the story
of the fig tree
that produced no fruit
for the third year in a row.
The fig tree’s owner
wanted to dig it out
but the gardener pleaded its cause –
“Give it another year
and I’ll tend it …
Maybe it will bear fruit then.”

That gardener sounded so like Danny!
And I take heart from that.
I can’t help thinking that
My God tends to me
in my times of failure
with tenderness, patience and care
just like Danny did
with his green fingers
as he gently tended
to each of his wee plants.

© Claire Murray, 28th February 2016
(Luke 13: 1-9)

Hanging On Your Every Word

Lord,
every day people surrounded you
hanging on your every word,
words of love.
Crowds followed you
wherever you went,
longing to be touched by you
and to be made whole again.

When you cured the man
lowered down through the roof
by his friends
and forgave his sins,
people listened.

When you healed the paralytic
in the temple on the Sabbath,
people watched.

When you chose to keep company
with the outcasts of society,
people talked.

Yet even as you were preparing
to give up your life
for these people,
you heard whispers and rumours
from Jewish officials
dotted among the crowds
and your heart sank.

You sighed
before cleverly answering questions
that had been carefully constructed
to entrap you.

You felt weary
as you contemplated
the humiliation and agony
that lay ahead
and that you would make no effort
to avoid.

Many listened with an open heart
to the words of love that you spoke
but a few others hung on your every word,
determined to twist your words of love
and to use them to leave you
hanging on a cross.

© Claire Murray

Breakfast at The Everglades

Breakfast at The Everglades
was truly magnificent,
a real feast!
I was spoilt for choice.
What should I try first?

Fresh fruit salad with red berries?
Natural yoghurt with hazelnuts?
Orange juice, apple juice or cranberry juice?
White bread, brown bread or wheaten bread?
Toasted or untoasted?
A croissant, American muffin or Danish pastry?
Cold meats or fish?

Such a delightful dilemma to start my day!
I was having a ball!

But Paul, my husband,
wasn’t feeling well.
All Paul wanted for breakfast
was a banana.
A female member of staff explained to me
there were none.

She looked concerned, thought for a moment
and then told me
that she had brought a banana with her for lunch
and that Paul was welcome to it.
She insisted.
Minutes later
a perfect banana was presented to Paul
with a smile.

I was deeply touched
by such kindness and concern
shown by a stranger.
The highlight for me
of that magnificent breakfast
was the generosity
of that member of staff.

But it makes me wonder
why am I so deeply impressed
by a caring stranger
who gave up her banana for Paul
and yet when I think of Jesus
who sacrificed his life for me
I am often unmoved?

(c) Claire Murray

Grey Ash Wednesday

Today, as I walked to work
I paused, as usual,
at the Waterfront Hall
to search for beauty
in the imperfect reflection of the sky
on the waters of the Lagan.

On its surface I usually see
a rising sun,
pastel coloured clouds,
street lights,
even birds in flight.

The beauty that I usually see there
offers me hope
that despite my flaws
my life will manage
to reflect for others
a beauty that comes from My God.

Today, as I looked for beauty
in the Lagan
on a grey, wet, windy
Ash Wednesday morning,
I found none.
I was deeply disappointed.

But as I gazed,
disconsolately,
at the Lagan,
I noticed a small, black shape
drawing a “V” in the water
as it moved steadily downstream.

A shining, black arc
rose from the water
and plunged under it again.
Just as I realised
that I was watching a seal,
it disappeared from view.

I laughed, reminded
not to lose heart
because even on a grey, wet, windy
Ash Wednesday morning,
there is beauty to be found
by those who take the time
to look for it.

© Claire Murray

Homes Under the Hammer

In a daytime TV show,
called Homes Under the Hammer,
a property investor buys a house
so that he can renovate it
and then sell it on again at a profit.

The houses bought
have many short-comings.
They are usually in poor decorative state
or worse,
in a poor state of repair.
Many require extensive renovation.

But where other people see
dilapidation, disrepair
and a huge amount of hard work,
the property investor sees
something entirely different –
potential.

He looks beyond the here and now
to his own personal vision
of what that house can become
once he has transformed it.

As I struggle through the chaos
of my daily life,
I am acutely aware
of my many short-comings.
I am deeply conscious that many times
I fail to reach my potential
and that I let myself down.
Worse than that,
I let others down.

Homes Under the Hammer reminds me
not to judge myself too harshly
and to see my life instead
as simply a work in progress,
just like the houses
in Homes Under the Hammer.

© Claire Murray