Nothing focuses the mind
quite like fear
and sometimes I think
that my best praying is done
when I’m in the dentist’s chair.

I lie back in the chair
and close my eyes
choosing not to see
any inordinately long needle
that my dentist might need.
And I begin to pray.

I pray that if I need injections
the needle may not hit a nerve
this time.

I pray that this may not be painful
and that, if it is painful,
that it may be bearable.

I pray that I may not groan
(a dental assistant once held my hand
when I groaned …
and I just died of embarrassment!)

I pray for the Holy Spirit
to guide the hands of the dentist
as he deftly manipulates the drill.

I pray and I pray.
Nothing distracts me –
no thoughts about work
or plans for tonight’s dinner.
This is highly concentrated prayer.

At last, my ordeal is over
and I rise from the dentist’s chair
with a quick, relieved,
“Thank you, Lord!”
only realising now, when I relax,
how tense I have been.

But I can’t help thinking –
isn’t it a pity
that it seems to take the dentist’s chair
for me to give my full attention
to My God?

© Claire Murray, 16th December 2015

God has given to each one of us
the gift of free will.
We are free, each day,
to choose good
or evil,
to live lives of love
or selfishness,
to live with God
or without God.

God has given us
the gift to choose.

As a parent
I have watched
as each one of my children in turn
has made a massive discovery –
that I can’t really make them
do anything.

Essentially,
they have discovered free will.

To be honest
I tried to hide it from them
for as long as possible.
But now
I have three young adults in my home
instead of three young children.

As I watch each of them
making important life choices
I feel helpless.
Their lives are in their own hands now
and I am finding it hard
to let go.

And I wonder
if this is how God feels
as He watches with love
as each one of us chooses
to choose Him
or reject Him.

Today
I pray specially
for my grown-up children –
that they may use the gift of free will
wisely.

© Claire Murray, 6/12/15

Picture this –
I ask a friend
for a cup of coffee
and they obligingly say,
“Yes, no problem!”
I wait patiently

Time passes
and I continue to wait,
impatiently.

Eventually
I give up,
realising that this cup of coffee
simply isn’t going to happen.
I’m surprised and disappointed –
I was so sure
that I could count on my friend.

Then one day
out of the blue
my friend reappears
with that long-awaited cup of coffee.
Seeing my look of surprise
he explains, saying,
“Sorry that took so long –
that coffee tree took longer to grow
than I expected!”

Lord,
when I get impatient with you
remind me
that with you,
there is no such thing
as instant coffee!

© Claire Murray, 3/12/15

Mammy used to make
home-made soup
when I was wee.

There always seemed to be
a flurry of activity at the start
as leeks were sliced,
celery was snipped
and barley-o was rinsed.
Then, a huge saucepan of soup
would be set on the wee ring
of our gas cooker.
There it would stay,
for what seemed like ages,
until the soup was, eventually,
ready.

It always seemed to take forever!

This morning
I’ve been thinking about
a special intention.
I’ve been praying about it
intensely
for the past few months.

Initially
there was a flurry of activity
and definite signs of progress.
But recently
it’s all gone quiet
and I can sense the people concerned
starting to lose heart.

And as I think about this,
into my head pops the image
of a huge saucepan of soup,
being gently heated
on wee, back ring
of our gas cooker.

I sense My God reassuring me,
telling me,
“It’s okay, Claire –
I’ve got this.
It’s all under control!”

I relax,
grateful for this gentle reminder
that this special intention
is safely in My God’s hands
and that all will be well.
It’s just going to take longer
than I had first expected –
just like the huge saucepans
of home-made soup
that Mammy used to make.

© Claire Murray, 5/11/15

I remember hearing years ago
about a woman who had gone into
an exclusive department store in Dublin.
Dissatisfied with the level of service
that she was receiving there
this wealthy woman exclaimed indignantly
“Do you know who I am?
I’m Mrs Terry Wogan!”

All week
I have had a sense of My God
whispering to me,
“Do you know who I am?

I know why this is happening.

For months now
I’ve been praying hard
about a special intention.
It hasn’t been resolved
and just seems to go on
… and on
… and on.
Sometimes I feel that my faith
is beginning to flag
and that I’m giving up,
in this instance,
on My God.

My God knows this
and He is challenging me,
saying to me,
“OK – you say that I am God.
Now tell me
what that actually means to you.”

I sense
that I am being challenged
to stop paying lip-service
to My God’s ability to intervene,
to truly believe
and to trust.

And so today
on the feast of Christ the King
I start afresh, saying
“Lord, your will be done.
Give Paul and me
the strength to cope with your will
whatever it may be.”

And as I pray,
I sense my faith regaining its buoyancy
and I find peace

© Claire Murray, 23/11/15

Lord,
I reach the crest of Black Mountain
as I drive to Mass.
In the distance I see
the peaks of the Mournes
slightly greyed-out
by mist in the distance.
They are a welcome sight
which I haven’t seen for several days

And yet all that time, Lord,
the Mournes have been there,
large as life.
It’s not that the Mournes disappeared –
it’s simply that darkness and mist
have prevented me from seeing them.

Lord,
sometimes in life
I feel as if you have disappeared.
I don’t seem to sense your presence
and I feel a little bit lost.

At those times
remind me
that, like the Mournes,
you have not vanished –
something in my life
is simply preventing me
from seeing you.

At those times
remind me
to keep faith.
Remind me
to keep looking for you .
Remind me
that in time
the darkness in my life will lift
and I will see you again –
immense, eternal,
all-powerful and inexorable –
or, to put it simply,
My God.

© Claire Murray, 25/10/15

On a mild, still, autumn morning
I feel uncertain
as to how the day will unfold
and, as I cycle into work,
I feel anxious.

I glance over the railings
when I reach the Albert Bridge
and I am surprised to see the Lagan,
with scarcely a ripple,
stretching all the way down
to Queen’s Bridge.

Reflected in it
I see the El Divino night club,
the Hilton Hotel
and the Sirocco Chimney.
I’m amazed to see
such an unexpected expanse
of peace and calm.

I sense Jesus at my shoulder,
saying, “Claire,
do not let your heart be troubled.
Trust in God
and trust in me.”

Instantly
a sense of joy replaces
my feelings of anxiety
and I cycle happily on into work,
at peace.

© Claire Murray, 28/9/1