Not Speaking to Saint Anthony

When I was wee,
only about five years old,
I lost my favourite book –
Harold Hare.

I was really disappointed
but Mammy knew
exactly what to do.
“Say a wee prayer
to Saint Anthony”, she said.

And so I did.
I prayed and I prayed
and I searched the house
from top to bottom.

The book was nowhere
to be found.

So it was that,
at a very young age,
I decided
that I wasn’t speaking
to Saint Anthony.

Over the years
I lost many things
(including my favourite
red bicycle)
and over the years
I was advised many times
to pray to Saint Anthony.

But I didn’t pray to Saint Anthony –
I wasn’t speaking to him, you see.

Then, in my student days,
I lost something
and a friend suggested
that I pray to Saint Anthony.
I explained
that wasn’t going to happen
and I told my friend why.

My friend surprised me by saying,
“Maybe your book was stolen.
Saint Anthony can’t return things
that have been stolen.”
And when I thought back,
that made sense.
There had been a suspicion
at the time
that someone had stolen the book.

So now, when I lose anything at all,
I say a wee prayer
to Saint Anthony.
He’s very good at finding things
(and he’s very forgiving –
phew!)

© Claire Murray, 28th February 2022

Organ Music

We are blessed to have organ music
at the Latin Mass
on Sundays.
Today, before the consecration,
the organ begins to play –
and what music we hear!

The church is filled
with light-hearted music
as joyful as little children
at play in the sunshine.

Tears prick my eyes
at this music of happiness and celebration.
This is music to lift the heart
and proclaim great news –
that something wonderful, amazing,
something utterly awesome,
is about to take place
right here
on the altar.

Then – s i l e n c e

The server rings the bell
for the consecration
and we all wait for that moment
when our priest will hold
in his hands
the sacred body and blood
of Jesus.

Almighty God
made present here
for each one of us –
no wonder the organ
was celebrating!

© Claire Murray, 15th February 2022

Giving God His Place

It’s a First Saturday morning
and I’m at a solemn Latin Mass.
Yet again
what strikes me about the Mass
is the reverence and humility
of the priests and servers
on the sanctuary.

The priests and servers genuflect
every … single … time
that they pass
in front of the altar.
They all kneel in reverence
while the bread and wine
are transformed
into the body and blood
of Our Lord.

The book containing
the Word of God
is carried slowly, carefully
and reverently.
A priest then meekly holds the book
as it rests
on his bowed head
while the Gospel is proclaimed
in song.

On top of all of that
everything and everyone
who is taking part
in the holy sacrifice of the Mass
is blessed
and incensed.

As I stand in line for Communion
I ponder
the respect and reverence,
the meekness and humility,
the blessing and the incense.

I have a sense of being in the presence
of something sacred,
something extraordinary,
something truly mind-blowing.

A sense of being in the presence
of God Almighty.

A sense that
at this Latin Mass
the priests are,
above all else,
simply trying to give God
His place.

© Claire Murray

Blossoms and Bluebells

It’s May-time.

Across the street
the black pavement has been
transformed
by the delicate petals of cherry blossom
that cover it
like a pink, old-fashioned,
tufted bedspread.

Further up the street
pink drifts form
along the kerb
as the wind blows.

At the top of our street
purple clumps of bluebells
are poised
and, in our garden,
bluebells have popped up
in every conceivable corner.

Blossoms and bluebells –
so beautiful …
and so special.

You see,
this is the time of year
when it’s Danny anniversary.
In Danny’s final days
cherry blossoms and bluebells
were everywhere!

Today’s blossoms and bluebells
remind me of Danny –
a man of ginger hair,
green fingers
and gentle nature.

May he rest in peace.

© Claire Murray, 4th May 2022