Precious Family Time

Lord,
we’ve only two days
of our holiday left,
only two more days
of precious family time together
before we return
to the hustle and bustle
of ordinary daily family life
in Dundrod.
I find myself wondering
about your precious family time
when you were wee.

Was it time spent with Joseph
in the workshop,
feeling so grown up and important
as you swept sawdust
and long, golden wood shavings into piles?
Then eating a meal together afterwards
and swelling with pride
as Joseph mentioned to your Mammy
what a great help you had been
and how he couldn’t have done
all of that work
without you
and then adding
that he could see in you
the makings of a fine, young man
while your Mammy looked at you
with love and smiles
in her brown eyes?

A small family,
working hard
together,
sharing a meal
together,
sitting in companionable silence
together
in a tiny house
full of family
and full of love.
Precious family time!

© Claire Murray

Green Fingers

Danny had green fingers.
When he died
he left behind
not only a glorious garden
filled with flowers, shrubs and trees
but he also left behind
dozens of pots and planters
filled with cuttings, seedlings,
tiny slips of plants
and even cactuses!
Danny gave to each of these plants
the exact same thing –
the opportunity to grow.
“Sure give it a chance”,
he would say about an ailing plant,
“you never know what it will do!”

Danny tended to these wee plants
and, indeed, many of them thrived
under his patient and loving care.

I was reminded of Danny
today at Mass
when we all heard the story
of the fig tree
that produced no fruit
for the third year in a row.
The fig tree’s owner
wanted to dig it out
but the gardener pleaded its cause –
“Give it another year
and I’ll tend it …
Maybe it will bear fruit then.”

That gardener sounded so like Danny!
And I take heart from that.
I can’t help thinking that
My God tends to me
in my times of failure
with tenderness, patience and care
just like Danny did
with his green fingers
as he gently tended
to each of his wee plants.

© Claire Murray, 28th February 2016
(Luke 13: 1-9)

Healing the Deaf Man (Mark 7: 31-37)

Lord,

friends of a deaf man
brought him to you in faith,
hoping that you would heal him.

You were surrounded by people
but you led the deaf man to a place
where you could be alone.
This was not to be a spectacle
to amaze or impress.
This was to be between
You, Your Daddy and the deaf man.

In the privacy of that place
You laid hands on the deaf man,
touched his ears and tongue in blessing
and prayed.
You asked the deaf man
to keep this to himself
and You left.

Today, I feel you calling me
in the same way.
You ask me to take time
out of my hectic life
to spend in prayer
with You.

You welcome me
as the wounded person that I am
and you invite me
into a relationship with you
that is personal
and intimate.
You offer me the opportunity to become
all that you have always intended
that I can be.

Like the deaf man,
You call me to leave the world,
to spend intimate, healing time with you.
Then you invite me
to return to the world. © Claire Murray

Untouchable (Matthew, 9: 18-26)

The woman stood at the edge of the square. It was a busy day, a market day, and people hustled and bustled around the sellers. In a far corner of the square a crowd had formed. People had gathered to hear the travelling preacher, Jesus. The woman could see people thronging around Jesus, pushing to get to the front. There were rumours that Jesus could heal people by laying hands on them. That’s why the woman had come; that was probably why many of the other people had come too. But Jesus’s friends were there to stop the crowd from getting too close. The woman watched as a lucky few were selected by his friends and were allowed to approach Jesus. Jesus appeared to listen to them, gaze at them, bless them and lay hands on them. Across the square, the woman groaned, longing to speak to Jesus, to be blessed by Jesus and to be healed by Jesus. But the woman couldn’t even get close enough to hear what Jesus had to say; in Jewish society, she was an outcast.

The woman had been ill for a long time. For twelve years her life’s blood had been draining out of her in a slow trickle that was unstoppable. This loss of blood had left her pale, weak and lethargic. Expensive, fruitless visits to doctors had left her penniless. Each night as she fell asleep she prayed to her God to help her, to somehow make this bleeding stop. Each day she awoke to find herself lying, again, in her own blood and her heart would sink.

The woman was unable to provide for herself and was forced to depend on the charity of others; that was embarrassing. Each day she felt herself judged and condemned by people who considered her condition to be a punishment from God; that was humiliating. Worst of all were the feelings of rejection and isolation that came from being an outcast. People avoided her since to touch her would mean that they would become unclean themselves. No-one had held her hand or laid a comforting hand on her arm in many years; she was untouchable.

Yet throughout the twelve years the woman had never lost hope. From an early age she had been told about God’s love – how God had known her before she had even begun to exist – about how God loved her as a mother loves her child – about how God guided her with leading strings of love. She had given up trying to understand why God had given her this illness but she remained convinced that it was part of God’s plan for her and that he would heal her. The woman had heard stories about Jesus: he had cured a blind man; he had cured a man who had been lame; he had cured a man who had been possessed. Surely if he could cure them, he could cure her … if she could only get close enough?

A flurry of activity broke out in the corner of the market place where Jesus was. A well-dressed man strode in. He bowed before Jesus and appeared to be talking to him. From a distance he looked like an official, although that seemed unlikely; an official wouldn’t defer to a travelling preacher. Puzzling over this the woman continued to watch as the official hurried away, followed by Jesus and his friends. The crowd rushed along afterwards, apparently excited by whatever had been said by the official.

The woman looked over at the crowd that now followed Jesus. People appeared to be excited, calling out to each other and gesticulating. The crowd had been distracted by the official. Maybe people wouldn’t notice her if she came along too? Maybe if she followed the crowd she might be able to get close to Jesus since his friends appeared to be as distracted as everyone else? If she could just get close enough, she might be able to reach out to touch him. If she could even get close enough to touch his tunic, maybe Jesus could heal her. He had healed those other people and she had prayed so hard for so long! This seemed like a heaven-sent opportunity to get right up beside Jesus! This was her one chance and the woman felt compelled to seize it!

The woman joined the crowd and glanced around. No-one appeared to have noticed her. As Jesus hurried along, the woman stretched her hand past jostling people and, as she did so, Jesus’s tunic brushed against it. The woman gasped and stopped in her tracks; the crowd surged past. The woman stared after Jesus, amazed. She felt different! Her lethargy had lifted and without needing to examine herself the woman knew that her bleeding had finally stopped! Just as that realization struck her, Jesus turned round and looked directly at her. He knew! He knew that she had touched his tunic and that she was healed. Looking the woman in the eye Jesus called out to her, “Don’t be afraid; your faith has saved you!” Then Jesus turned away and hurried off after the official.

The woman remained standing in the market place, staring after Jesus. Her heart soared; her days of being untouchable were over!

(c) Claire Murray

Happy In His Own Skin

Today I found myself wondering,
“What if I had been with Andrew, the apostle,
the first day that he had met Jesus
and Jesus had invited me, along with Andrew,
to see where He lived?
What sort of home would I have seen?
What sort of man would I have seen?”

In my mind’s eye I pictured
a tidy bed,
in the corner of a family room,
strictly functional,
none of life’s trappings beside it.

And in that room I pictured a man
who was quiet and self-assured.
Here was a man
who was happy in His own skin,
at ease with Himself,
at ease with those around Him
and at peace with God.

And I thought to myself,
“I have so much to learn!”
Jesus looked at me, smiled and said,
“You’ll be okay; I’m a good teacher!”

(c) Claire Murray

One Man’s Story – Working in the Vineyard ((Matthew 20: 1-16)

I left my house before daybreak,
slipped out before my wife awoke,
left her and the children for the day
and walked in darkness to the market.
Others had got there before me,
eager like me for a day’s work,
a day’s food on the table.

The landowners arrived,
only a handful of them
and there were so many of us!
We crowded up around them,
jostling to get to the front.
The landowners barely looked at us.
They pointed to a lucky few
who followed them eagerly,
relieved at having been chosen.
They had the luxury
of a hard day’s work in the heat
with the promise of a fair wage
to sustain them.
The rest of us moved away in disappointment,
found a place to sit down,
ready to wait just in case
someone would hire us.

The sun rose higher in the sky.
The landowners returned.
We rose to our feet eagerly
and again crowded around the landowners
who again picked out some of us
but not me.
There was no work for the rest of us.

Heat and dust and silence now
in the hottest part of the day.
The lucky ones find some shade.
We think of our families at home,
my beautiful wife wondering
if I have been lucky,
whether we will eat
at the end of this long day.
Nobody leaves.
We have nowhere else to go.

A third time the landowners enter
and we all rush forward,
desperate for work.
I try to look strong, keen.
I push my way to the front,
trying to be seen by the landowners.
But there are so many of us
and so few of them.
I am not chosen.
My heart sinks.
What are the chances
of me finding work now?
And if I do, I’ll receive so little for it.
I remain in the market place.
Even if I get a few coins,
enough just to take the edge off our hunger …

It’s a long, dry day in the heat.
Another time the landowners arrive and leave
without me.
I remain in the market place, disconsolate.
I’m aware that there’s a slim chance
that someone might choose me
to run an errand
or to work for even a few hours.
I stay because of that chance
and for another reason –
I can’t face going home
to see the disappointment
in my wife’s eyes,
the unspoken worry,
the hunger of my children.
I had such high hopes this morning
and they have all come to nothing.

Suddenly, unexpectedly,
at the eleventh hour
one of the landowners strides
into the market place.
I see him first and run to him.
He nods at me and sends me over
to one of his men.
Such relief!
I’ll get something.
It won’t be much
but it’s better than nothing!
A few other lucky ones are selected
and we follow the landowner.

I arrive at the vineyard
and am directed to the fields.
The work is hard
but nowhere near as hard
as the long, anxious wait
in the market place.
I become absorbed in the work
and the hour passes quickly.
A bell sounds on the farm
and all of the workers assemble
to be paid.

To my surprise the landowner calls up
all of the last arrivals first.
I don’t know what to expect,
but I don’t expect much!
The first man goes up
and to everyone’s astonishment
he receives a whole denarius!
A whole denarius for an hour’s work!
He’s delighted
and a sense of anticipation spreads
through the crowd.
The next worker goes up.
He, too, receives a denarius.
My turn now –
and I joyfully receive a whole denarius!

I can’t believe this!
I’m so relieved!
I can go home now
and present this to my wife
who will slip out and buy food
for our wee family.
I leave the vineyard and start the journey home.
I’m delighted and puzzled.
I was only there for one hour
and the landowner gave me so much.
I didn’t deserve that. I really didn’t!
I’ve never met anyone
who treated people like that before.
What an unusual man that landowner is!
I can’t wait to go home
and tell my wife all about this.

(c) Claire Murray