As I try to deal with pain and hurt
in my own life
I am reminded of a comment made
by a neighbour of mine, Frances:
“We are the walking wounded.”

I look at all of the people
who surround me
and I am conscious
that every single one of them
is emotionally scarred by life.

We are all so much more fragile
than we care to believe
and when it comes to hiding our true selves
from other people
many of us give Oscar-worthy performances
every day of our lives.

What would we see
if the true selves behind the brave faces
were unveiled?

Would we see people struggling bravely each day,
crippled by raw wounds
that are the result
of unkindness, hatred,
envy, cruelty, grief
of maybe sheer thoughtlessness?
Would we see
that deep down,
at the centre of our being,
each of us yearns to be loved
simply for being ourselves?

I think of the walking wounded
and I remember
that life is easy for no-one,
regardless of how happy,
confident or self-assured
they may appear to be.
I think of the walking wounded
and my eyes are turned away
from my own pain and suffering
to the deeper wounds of others.

I think of the walking wounded
and I begin to see humanity
through the eyes of My God.

© Claire Murray

I believe that sometimes
God gives us the gift
of precious time,
a special moment in life
when, for a short while,
we are allowed to experience
perfection in some form –
in time spent in happiness
with someone dear to us,
in time spent in wonder
as we behold the beauty
of God’s creation,
in time simply spent at peace
as we rest in the presence of Our God.

These are “Wow!” moments.
In these precious moments
God allows each of us
to see some aspect of our life
transfigured,
bathed in the glory of Our God.
It’s as if, for that short time,
we walk hand in hand
with Our God
and we get to experience
the full potential
of that aspect of our life.
The memory of that moment
is a gift from God
to buoy us up
in darker times.

As I walked to work this week,
I got to see the Lagan
as I have never seen it before.
Wow!
God showcased the Waterfront Hall
and the surrounding area,
bathing it in autumn morning sunrise
and reflecting this perfection
in the still waters of the Lagan.
Somehow, to have seen such beauty only once
would have been totally inadequate!

This was a real “Wow!” moment for me
as I walked into work
and it will remain with me,
encouraging me,
in the long winter ahead.

© Claire Murray

As I walk home from work
on a rainy, grey October evening,
a whiff of chips from a passer-by
triggers a memory
from once upon a time
when I was a teenager
and I went to Benediction
for the first ever time.

I was on a personal quest for God
spurred on by one thing only –
fear.

Two girls in my class at school
were coming to class each day
holding pupils spellbound
by predictions made the night before
on a Ouija board.
I listened to these tales, fascinated
and frightened.

I had seen how scared
my two big brothers had been
when they had gone to see The Exorcist
as soon as they had turned 18.
School tales of a Ouija board
made Evil feel uncomfortably close.
I was disturbed.

Fear drove me
to walk with my sister, Brenda,
to our chapel at Carnhill
on a dark, winter’s evening
on a Saturday.

In the chapel, I found silence, peace
and reverence.
People paused to bow
and to kneel down on both knees
before entering their seats.
Even the priest seemed to be unworthy
to touch the Blessed Sacrament.
I watched, fascinated,
as the sacristan draped a cape
around the priest’s shoulders.
The priest then wrapped the ends of this cape
around his hands.

Only then, with his hands shielded,
did the priest use his hands
to raise the monstrance
and bless all of us
with the Blessed Sacrament.

In that evening’s Benediction
I sensed the immensity and power
of My God.
I felt a conviction
that My God was powerful enough
to protect me from Evil
and I felt reassured.

On our way home,
Brenda and I called into the chip shop and,
with a pound note that our Daddy had given us,
bought two bags of chips
and a bottle of Ice Cream Soda
to share with our Daddy
when we got home.

That night a tradition began
of Benediction and chips in our house
on a Saturday night.

Whoever would have thought
that Benediction and chips
would be such a perfect combination?

© Claire Murray, 21st October 2013

Our wee family spent
a truly glorious autumn weekend
taking leisurely walks
along quiet, golden, sandy beaches
as gentle waves lapped along the shore
at Fanad.
We clambered over massive granite slabs,
perched on boulders and sat,
squinting in the sunshine,
lazily watching encroaching waves
that crept closer and closer
to feet that dangled
over the Atlantic.

Bliss!!!

My alarm clock heralded the arrival
of a busy Monday morning.
A six o’clock start to the day,
lunches to be packed,
breakfast to be rushed,
school runs to be done
and, worst of all,
the prospect of a return to work!

As I walked to work
I felt as if I had come back to earth
with a bump!

I paused for a few minutes
behind the Waterfront Hall
and stood looking over the Lagan.
The Monday morning sun was rising,
creeping above a bank of clouds
and blazing gloriously.
It painted surrounding clouds
many shades of pink and peach
and stretched all the way down the Lagan
to where I stood, blinking.

I was filled with joy and sensed
My God saying to me, playfully,
“Claire,
This sunrise is my gift to you.
Enjoy it!
Fanad doesn’t have a monopoly on beauty,
You know!”
I continued my walk to walk
With a smile on my face!

© Claire Murray