It’s a warm spring day,
as hot as summer,
and we drive to Mourne Park,
near Kilkeel
to go for a walk.

Sun-hats on as we step out
into a hot, dusty car park.
A short walk
along a concrete road
past calves snoozing in the sun
before stepping into the welcome shade
of woodland.
Pools of sunlight
and dappled shade.
The hyacinth scent of bluebells
and the raspberry fragrance
of Douglas Firs
has us sniffing air like Bisto kids
as we walk along.

The Whitewater River
slips slowly by,
pouring gently
over massive granite boulders
as a fish leaps
into the air.
Glassy, timeless waters!

A local rambler stops to chat,
recounting sightings
from decades of visiting Mourne Park –
a family of badgers
slipping down to the Whitewater
for a drink,
fox cubs playing
with their mother,
and a secret butterfly-filled path.

Mourne Park is her very own
little slice of Heaven,
this lady tells us.
A place where she feels
very close to nature
and very close to God.
From the mountain top
she loves to watch the lighthouse
which reminds her
that God is by her side,
constantly.

I think of the wee red sanctuary lamp
in the chapel,
my own constant reminder
that God is home
and I sense that, in this local lady,
I have found a kindred spirit.

We dander back to our car,
savouring the birdsong
that fills the air
and marvelling
at the quiet, peaceful beauty
in this very special place.

Today we spent a glorious spring day
in Mourne Park
and I’m convinced that,
when we were there,
God was very, very near!

© Claire Murray, 1st May 2025

We’re down in Newcastle
for the week.
Just the first day done so far
and we’re having a ball!

Stunning views of Slieve Donard
(and a red squirrel!)
from the living room window
as we eat breakfast.

A wee dander to Tollymore
along quiet country roads
lined with wild flowers
of pink and purple,
white and yellow.
Coffee in the sun
before we dander home again.

An afternoon walk in the sunshine
along Murlough beach
relishing the cool breeze,
gazing out at a shimmering, blue sea
and smiling at doggy-antics
along the strand.

An evening walk
along a bridle path
brings its own discoveries –
a freshly-excavated badger set,
leaping lambs, scurrying bunnies
and even a peacock or two!

All the while,
surrounded by birdsong
(no motorway traffic here!)

Best of all is the prospect
of doing it all again tomorrow
(please God!)
as we don’t have to go home again
for a whole week!

Life is tough, Lord.
Thank You for this wee break
from life’s trials.
Thank You for precious family time.
Thank You for the luxury
of a whole week together
in Newcastle.
(Yay!!!)

© Claire Murray, April 2025

As a wee boy
Daddy used to gallop along
on his imaginary horse,
wearing an imaginary hat,
slapping his thigh
as he rode along.
He was a cowboy!

Along William Street
and around the Derry Walls
he would gallop,
occasionally pointing
his imaginary gun
to shoot baddies –
“Bang, bang! You’re dead!”

Don’t they say
“show me the child at seven
and I’ll show you the man”?
Well, Daddy never grew out
of cowboys
and, even at the ripe old age of 91,
he would occasionally take
a sideways gallop
down the corridor
while singing The Lone Ranger song.

But even the best cowboy
sometimes comes off his horse
and Daddy came tumbling down,
mid-gallop.

A few minutes later,
there he stood –
puzzled, crest-fallen
and nursing a very sore finger.

Poor Daddy!

Gentle (and somewhat bemused)
doctors and nurses
patched up Daddy’s finger
(ouch!)
and Daddy was dispatched back home
in a taxi.

No cowboy-gallops in the corridor
this time!

Thank You, Lord,
for looking after Daddy.
Thank You for strong bones
that withstood such a fall.
Thank You for a caring doctor
who fixed Daddy’s finger
with special tape and glue,
taking time to listen to Daddy
as he jollied him along
to distract him
from the pain.

Thank You for caring taxi drivers
who made us feel
that Daddy was more
than simply another fare.

This morning,
Daddy is, once again,
bright as a button,
despite his aches and pains.
And although I have a sneaking suspicion
that his cowboy days are over,
Daddy seems to be very contented
(sure doesn’t he have
a real shiner of a black eye
to show off to his friends?)

© Claire Murray, 10th April 2025

It’s Lent, and this year
Paul and I are making a visit
to the chapel every week
for about half an hour
to spend time in prayer
before the tabernacle.

Warm air greets us
as we push open the door
(it’s cosy in here!)

Once we’re kneeling in our seat
I look at the sanctuary.
Along the back wall,
slap-bang in the middle,
is a golden tabernacle.
A massive crucifix
hangs above it.

My eyes are drawn up
to the crucifix
and one word comes to mind –
Jesus.
My eyes are then drawn
to the tabernacle
and, again, one word comes to mind –
Jesus.
My eyes flick up to the crucifix –
Jesus
and back down to the tabernacle –
Jesus.

I look up – Jesus
and I look down – Jesus.
Somehow, I can’t take my eyes away
from the crucifix and the tabernacle –
Jesus … Jesus,
Jesus … Jesus.

Jesus is really here,
in this tabernacle,
in the form of a tiny wafer,
the size of a fifty-pence piece.
Isn’t that just awesome?
(and I mean that literally!)

I find myself wondering …
I came here today
with the attitude
that I was almost doing God a favour
by coming here.
But I can’t help feeling
that I got this oh, so wrong.
it’s Jesus, Almighty God,
who is doing me a favour
by always being present
here, in the tabernacle –
always present here
for me.

And as we leave the chapel
some time later,
I find that I’m already looking forward
to making our next visit.

© Claire Murray, 18th March 2025

Lord,
there’s a beautiful sky
outside
and it looks like
a lovely day.

Thank You for the gift
of a bright spring morning.

Thank You for the gift
of retirement
which enables us
to enjoy this morning’s beauty
at our leisure.

Thank You for the gift
of faith
which enables us
to enjoy such splendour
with You by our side.

Thank You for the gift
of good priests
who are leading us
in our faith.

Thank You for the gift
of today.
May we spend it wisely,
drawing closer to You.

© Claire Murray, 30th January 2023

Reshma has spent
five long and lonely months
in hospital
receiving treatment
for leukaemia.
And recently,
I’ve been asking Takashi Nagai
to pray for her.

Takashi Nagai was diagnosed
with leukaemia
as a result of extensive work
with X-Rays.
Takashi survived the atom bomb
which was dropped on Nagasaki
and which his wife, sadly,
did not survive.
In the aftermath of that atom bomb,
Takashi willingly exposed himself
to deadly radiation
as he worked in the city ruins
to help survivors
and to make detailed observations
on the effects of radiation.

Takashi, who was a man of deep faith,
went on to become
a Holy Man of Nagasaki
as he inspired people
all round the world
with his attitude
of generosity
and Christian forgiveness.

Each day now
I ask Takashi Nagai
to pray for Reshma –
for healing and strength
as she battles her leukaemia.

I’m convinced
that I’m asking the right person
to intercede for Reshma
because if anyone can understand
Reshma’s physical and emotional pain,
it’s Takashi Nagai.

(I wonder some day
if they’ll make him a saint?)

© Claire Murray, 13th March 2025

I remember
coming in from playing
when I was wee –
face streaked with mud,
knees mucky,
clothes boggin’,
eyes dancing!

Brilliant fun!

As an adult,
my days of playing outside
are well and truly over
and yet today,
when I came in from the garden,
it felt a bit like being wee again –
face streaked with mud,
knees mucky,
clothes boggin’
and, I suspect,
eyes dancing!

We had been busy in the garden,
you see.
Bulbs to plant,
holes to dig,
moss to scrape away,
paths to brush,
leaves to rake
and twigs to tie into bundles
(for the wee creepy-crawlies!)

Busy … mucky … fun!!!

Thank you, Lord,
for a happy, fun afternoon
in our garden
that brought back memories
of those mucky, fun,
carefree days
of childhood.

(Aren’t gardens great?)

© Claire Murray, January 2025