I Love You in My Heart and Soul

Dolores adores her grandchildren
and is often heard saying to them,
“Sure don’t you know I love you
in my heart and soul?”
Dolores is in her element
when her grandchildren
are at her house.

Early this morning
I dropped Aoife off
at her Granny’s house.

After a while,
a barefooted, sleepy Dolores,
dressed in her pink dressing gown,
padded into the kitchen
where she spotted Aoife,
resplendent in peacock blue pyjamas,
standing, drinking tea.

Dolores’s face lit up
in a massive smile of welcome
and she happily sat herself down
at the kitchen table,
for a wee chat
with Aoife,
one of her favourite people
in the whole world.

The sheer and utter delight
that I saw on Dolores’s face
when she greeted Aoife this morning
reminded me of way
that Our God rejoices
in every single one of us
and considers each one of us
to be a cause for celebration,
someone truly remarkable, unique
and precious.

It reminded me
that in much the same way
that Dolores adores
each of her grandchildren,
Our God is saying to each one of us,
every day,
“Don’t you know that I love you
in my heart and soul?”

(c) Claire Murray

Carlsberg (John 21: 15 – 17)

Carlsberg adverts on TV
show two different outcomes
to an awkward social situation.
Outcome A is unpleasant.
Outcome B is nightmarish.

Fortunately in the world of Carlsberg
there’s always an Option C,
something totally off the wall
that transforms a social disaster
into a dream scenario.

One of the stories about Jesus
always left me feeling anxious;
the one where Jesus asked Peter,
three times,
if he loved him.

What on earth would I do
if Jesus asked me
whether I loved Him?
Would I have to explain, haltingly,
that while I found Him amazing
and even irresistible
I didn’t actually love Him?

I could see two possible outcomes
to this difficult situation.
Option A – Jesus would be cross with me.
Option B – Jesus would be deeply hurt.

I never should have underestimated Jesus.
I realise now that, like Carlsberg,
there was always going to be
an Option C,
something along the lines of this –
a smile, a hug and a reassurance
that Jesus loves me
just the way I am
and that loving God
would all be sorted out
in God’s own time.

Lord,
help me to remember
that with Jesus,
just like Carlsberg,
there’s always an Option C!

© Claire Murray

Tumour

Lord,
yesterday Danny’s dressing came undone
and I caught a glimpse
of a tumour,
that is red and angry.
It’s growing.

Yet, in that same instant,
I saw Danny smiling,
a man at peace with himself
who has come to terms
with an illness
that is slowly but surely
taking his life.

I can see your work there, Lord.
You have given Danny
and all of us
tremendous gifts –
the gift of acceptance
and the precious gift of time.

Lord,
stay with Danny, Dolores and Paul
as they face up to Danny’s illness.
Continue to walk with them
on their difficult journey.

© Claire Murray, 19th August 2013

Jewel in the Crown

Tullyrusk is a tough hill to cycle up
so I have developed a wee technique.
At a certain point on the hill
I stop
and I stand, panting
and looking at the crest of the hill
that rises before me.
I tell myself
that after this wee break
I’ll be grand.
After a couple of minutes
I hop back on my bike
and cycle on.

But today
I deviated from my plan.
I stopped at the usual place
but instead of looking uphill,
I looked down.

Wow!

Miles of fields and trees
swept all the way down
to a shimmering Lough Neagh
which glinted for miles
towards distant shores
in a view that was breath-taking.

I was flabbergasted.
How many times
had I stood, panting, on Tullyrusk Hill
concentrating on the hill ahead of me
and oblivious
to such beauty behind me?

Lord,
help me not to get so engrossed
in my daily work
and chores
and to remember to take a moment
to appreciate the majesty of your creation.
Remind me especially
to search for the beauty
in every person that I encounter
because people are
the jewel in the crown of your creation

© Claire Murray

Place in the World

One day,
at the end of my summer break,
I hop on my bike at Dundrod
and cycle off to a favourite spot of mine
at the foot of Corbally Road
by the shores of Lough Neagh.

It’s raining.

As I cycle,
raindrops pitter-patter on my helmet
and drip off the end of my nose.
My trainers are sodden
and by the time I reach my destination
my wet hands are too slippery
to open my flask of tea
and I am forced to knock on a stranger’s door
to ask for help.

Yet, as I sit on the damp grass,
drinking my precious cup of tea
and looking out over a grey Lough Neagh,
I feel a deep sense of peace and contentment.

I think of Paul,
tied up at work
in an office in Belfast
and I feel such a strong sense of togetherness
that for the first time
I understand
why people refer to their husband or wife
as their “other half”.

I sense Paul in my heart
and the presence of Our God
surrounding both of us
and I know that I have been blessed
to find my place in the world.

I hop back on my bike
and begin my cycle home
at peace with myself and with My God
and in love with Paul.

© Claire Murray

Mary Chapin Carpenter sings “Place in the World”

Harmony

Our society in Northern Ireland
is divided in many ways –
by income and occupation,
by age and health,
by where we live
and, of course,
by religion and politics.

But on Sunday evening,
a group of us came together
as part of the West Belfast Festival
to worship Our God
through music and song.

People came from many churches –
Catholic, Church of Ireland and Methodist.
People came from many parts of Belfast
with many singing styles
and playing many different instruments.
But most importantly,
people came together
with open minds
and with open hearts.

On Sunday evening,
at St Agnes’s church,
against a political background
of protests about flags and parades
a group of us came together
and set aside our differences
to focus on the faith that we have in common
and we united to sing in beautiful harmony
and to give praise to Our God.

© Claire Murray

Our True Nature

Lord,
at your Transfiguration
you let your whole self be seen –
the divine
in human form.

I wonder
how we would all see each other
if we were to be transfigured
so that our true nature
was revealed?

Would we see each other,
young and old,
as tiny children of Our God,
vulnerable
and needing Our God’s help?
Would we recognise in each other
the deep desire to be loved
just for who we are?

In those we love
and in those we struggle to love,
in those we respect
and in those we sometimes treat with contempt,
in those we willingly forgive
and in those against whom we bear grudges,
would we see the love of God
radiate as light
from those who embrace God?
Would we see the darkness
in those who strive so hard to deny
the tiny spark of God within?

Would we, at long last,
be able to find it in our hearts
to love each other
and ourselves?

© Claire Murray

Five Barley Loaves (Matthew 14: 13-21)

Last night Herod threw a huge party for his friends. It was the talk of the town this morning and they reckon that people will talk about that party for years to come. Everybody who was anybody was there. The climax of the evening was when Herod arranged for his latest girlfriend to be given the gift of her dreams – the head of John the Baptist. Apparently it was presented to her on a plate. Herod’s cronies thought it was all highly entertaining. Just thinking about it makes me feel sick. It makes all of us feel sick – that is, it makes all of us Jews feel sick. It’s hard enough to cope with those Romans stealing our country, taking our hard-earned money and imposing their own law on us, but for them to turn around and behead one of our prophets! I was outraged. We all were. We don’t expect much of the Romans, but they stooped to a new low when they murdered our prophet.

We, Jews, didn’t know what to do. What could we do against the might of the Roman army? Here we were, living in our “promised land” but we felt impotent. We felt hurt. We felt ground-down. We felt downtrodden. We felt oppressed. We felt powerless. We felt lost. Some of us felt as if God had turned his back on us.

That’s what was on everyone’s minds this morning. That’s what we were all talking about when we met. Then someone mentioned that a man called Jesus was in the district. They said that he was a cousin of John the Baptist. We decided to head off to see this man Jesus for ourselves, to hear what he had to say, because we didn’t know what else to do.

When we arrived, Jesus was just arriving in a boat. He seemed surprised to see the crowds that were waiting for him. Jesus looked tired but he got out of the boat and walked over to the crowds. I watched him, wondering whether Jesus would use this opportunity to give a rousing, political speech. But he didn’t. Jesus simply walked among the people, greeting them, chatting to them, listening to them and blessing them. After a while, Jesus sat down under a tree and people began to bring their sick to him. People didn’t seem to need to hear political speeches. They seemed to be content with Jesus simply spending time among them. There was a sense of peace here and a sense that now was a time for rest and healing for everyone. Time moved on but nobody seemed inclined to leave.

After a while Jesus’s close friends approached him and started to talk to him, pointing at the crowds as they spoke. “It’s getting late; it’s time to go,” we thought to ourselves. But Jesus didn’t seem inclined to leave either. He spoke briefly to his disciples. We saw them head off and speak to some people in the crowd. They returned to Jesus and appeared to hand him some bread. Jesus looked down at the collection of food, stood up, arms outstretched. “Friends,” he called out, “Let us pray”. We all stood and bowed our heads. “Father in heaven”, he continued, “I have before me five barley loaves and two fish. You know each one of us. You love us and you know our needs. Bless us now as we sit, as friends, for this meal. In your love, bless us with what we need.” Jesus and his friends then instructed us all to sit down in small groups.

Jesus’s friends then approached each of the groups and appeared to be distributing loaves and fish for people to share. And while people passed around this bread and fish, they unpacked their own food and shared it with those in their group. Then one group which had plenty of food passed bread over to one that had very little. People smiled their thanks and sat and chatted with others in their groups. Somehow a crowd of thousands of strangers transformed into small groups of people who were concerned for each other and who were willing to reach out, help each other and support each other. There was a sense of family, of belonging, of contentment that was almost tangible. When everyone had finished eating, Jesus’s friends gathered all of the left-overs. They filled twelve baskets! Imagine, twelve baskets from five barley loaves and two fish! Darkness began to fall and we all started to drift home.

When we walked to meet Jesus this morning, we saw ourselves as five thousand people oppressed by Romans. But as we walked home again in small groups made up of old friends and new companions, we saw ourselves as people of God. We now felt a sense of family, of community, of belonging. We had a sense of being loved and cared for and we had a sense of being safe in the hands of our God. In time to come, others will say that today was the day that Jesus fed the five thousand. But I think that Jesus did more than that; not only did he feed the five thousand, he healed the five thousand!

© Claire Murray