Lord,
the wind has stopped howling.
Our home is intact,
the trees are still standing
and the drone of traffic has returned
to the motorway.
Life is returning to normal.

The storm has passed.

Pastel-coloured skies
of pink and blue
greet me this morning
when I come downstairs
and outside, all is still outside.

I feel a sense of relief
that the storm is over.

Thank You, Lord,
for protecting us
during the storm
and for allowing us
to come through it
unscathed.

May we savour today
the peace and calm
that surrounds us
and may the peace
that only You can bring
reign in our hearts.

© Claire Murray, 25th January 2025

In a quiet corner of Musgrave
where shadows linger
and squirrels scamper
lies a pine tree
which was blown down
in a storm
many years ago.

Lying hidden
in the peace and quiet
out of sight, out of mind
and forgotten …
it quietly continued to grow.

Branches on its upper side
reached for the sky
forming a line of slender pines
and only when a recent storm
felled neighbouring trees
did this little miracle
come into view.

I look at the tree,
fascinated,
and think to myself,
“Never say die!”

As Christians we are called
to always hope
and to never give-in
to despair.

Called to believe
in an almighty God
and called never to underestimate
His power.

Called to believe
that our God loves us deeply
and will stretch out His hand
to help us when we call.

Because of our trust in God
we, too, can choose
to never say die
no matter what befalls us in this life.
And we, too, can flourish in adversity,
just like that pine tree.

© Claire Murray, 30th December 2024

Icy roads prevent us
from travelling
and so we find ourselves
at home
instead of at our usual
First Saturday Mass
in Newry.

This provides the perfect opportunity
for us to fill our log store –
a daunting task
that involves wheel-barrowing
hundreds of logs
from a far corner
of the garden
and stacking them neatly
in our log store.

It requires careful planning
and a wile lot
of hard work!

We crunch across frosty grass,
our breath frosting
in the freezing air
as we savour the smell
of freshly-cut wood.
By lunch-time,
most of the logs are stacked
neatly and safely
(with a hollowed-out log
at the very top …
maybe a robin will nest there?)

Quite a feat of engineering!

Thank You, Lord,
for this icy morning
which kept us all at home
and left us free
to spend time as a wee family
working together
companionably and productively
to fill our log store.

(Time for hot drinks now, I think!)

© Claire Murray, 4th January 2025

When Daddy was eighteen years old
he went to Dublin
and over the course of a weekend
he discovered the delights
of O’Connell Street –
four ice-cream parlours!

Daddy enjoyed several
ice-cream sundaes
and concluded that,
in his expert opinion,
the best sundae of all
was one mysteriously called
“Melancholy Baby”.

Seventy-two years later,
Daddy still talks about
that Melancholy Baby!

One day
I have a wee chat
with Michael at Fiorentini’s
and a fortnight later
we all go to Fiorentini’s
where Michael serves up
Melancholy Babies
for Daddy and me.

Colourful layers of
ice-cream and fresh cream,
jelly and tinned fruit
with sprinkles and a parasol
on top
all beautifully-presented
in tall glasses.

Truly a treat to behold!

We both tuck-in
and some time later,
Daddy proudly polishes his off.

Wow – that was yummy!

Thank You, Lord,
for the kindness
of people like Michael
who are prepared to go
that extra mile
to help Daddy (now 90 years old)
relive happy memories
of long ago …

Melancholy Babies …
in O’Connell Street …
seventy-two years ago …
Boys-a-boys …
those were the days!

© Claire Murray, 18th January 2025

Paul and I are working hard
in the garden
on a cold winter’s day.

The conifers down the garden died
and sadly had to be cut down
making our garden feel
a bit more public
as cars, lorries and pedestrians
all pass by
on a busy main road.
But, thankfully,
we still have our hedge
which stretches,
all green and beautiful,
along the bottom of the garden.

But, it is what it is
and, right now,
there’s work to be done!

Hundreds of logs
lie in a heap
waiting to be wheel-barrowed
to a spot
where they can dry-out.
The work is tiring
and, as my Daddy often says,
“Hard work’s not easy
and easy work’s hard to find!”

When we finally stop
we are disappointed to see
that we’re not even
half-way through yet!

Something catches my eye
as I leave the garden
and, turning round,
I see a brightly-coloured rainbow,
huge and beautiful,
stretching across the sky.

Wow!

I remember
that the rainbow is a sign
of God’s covenant with man
and, as I try to remember
what exactly that covenant was,
words of Jesus
spring to mind –
“I am with you always.
Yes, till the end of time.”
And I have a sense
that Jesus has been with us
all that time
as we worked in the garden
and that He is with us right now
as we take this wee break.

You know,
we wouldn’t have seen that rainbow
if the conifers hadn’t been cut-down.
And, see that hedge?
It’ll grow,
and make our garden
a wee bit more private.

(Hmmm … I wonder …
will we get to see more rainbows
now that the conifers are gone?)

© Claire Murray, 20th December 2024

I left home
when I was eighteen
and when I returned
about a month later,
I said to Mammy
(with great indignation!)
“Mammy,
do you know how much food costs?”
“I could write a book about it!”
laughed Mammy.

I feel a wee bit like that today
as I sit down to pray
and attempt to explain to God
how difficult it is
to be a parent.
I can just imagine God
rolling His eyes,
shaking His head
and saying,
“I wrote a book about it!”

At least I know
that I have a sympathetic listener!

And so my morning prayer
continues.
I pray for the grace
to be a good parent
and I pray for
our three grown-up children –
may God keep each one of them
in His loving care.

© Claire Murray, 12th September, 2024

My Hand in Your Hand, Lord

I’ve got a splinter
in my finger.
Nothing strange about that,
you might think.
But this is a splinter
like no other
because it’s invisible!

Even with my magnifying glass
I can’t see the splinter
or a puncture mark.
But I know it’s there
because I can feel it.

People have kindly and patiently
examined my finger
and they, too, can find no sign
of the splinter.
(I reckon that they secretly suspect
that my splinter is imaginary
as well as invisible!)

Every morning I bless my splinter
with Holy Water.
And during the day
I swish my hand about in water
as much as possible,
hoping to wash it out
And, as I do so,
I offer up a quick prayer –
“My hand in Your hand, Lord!”

Working away in the garden
I wear two pairs of gloves
hoping to sweat out
this invisible splinter
and I offer up my quick prayer –
“My hand in Your hand, Lord!”

And so, I place my finger
and my invisible splinter
into God’s hands
every day.

(My splinter couldn’t be
in safer hands, now could it?)

© Claire Murray, 20th September 2024

Lord,
as I walk into the kitchen
this morning
I am just in time to see
a beautiful morning sky –
just before sunrise!
A real masterpiece,
a work of art,
by Your hand, I’m convinced!

Okay,
so there are scientific explanations
for why the sky
is painted pink.
But Who was it who created
the sun, the clouds, the wind,
the atmospheric conditions –
everything that had to combine
perfectly
for this morning glory to form?
You!

This morning masterpiece
reminds me of You.
It fills me with awe
and stops me in my tracks.

And so this morning, Lord,
I give thanks to You
for the awesome beauty
of today’s sunrise
which gladdens the hearts
of all who see it.

© Claire Murray, 21st January 2023

The sun is shining
so we pack a picnic
and head off to Cam Forest,
near Limavady.
We have a new gadget –
a wee, hand-held device
that displays maps
showing roads and paths.

So off we go on our walk
to explore!

Forest paths are lined
with wild flowers of all colours –
spires of pink,
tiny balls of purple,
wee stars of pink and mauve.
Flat heads of cow parsley
sway gently in the breeze
while black bees buzz
all around.

Dark green rushes
with rusty tufts
stand to attention.
Wild grasses shimmer in the sun
as the wind blows waves –
across an expanse of green, gold
and pink.
The last foxgloves of summer
are like pink beacons
in the shade.

A butterscotch-coloured frog,
the size of my thumbnail,
hops across the path
and, as we approach our car,
a hunting bird glides
through the trees.

Thank You, Lord,
for a day filled with peace, colour
and sunshine.
And thank You also
for that handy wee map device
that liberated us
to explore forest roads and paths
without fear of getting lost!

© Claire Murray, 29th July 2024

Last night
we went to Dundrum
after Fiachra’s work.

A picnic overlooking the sea
as we watch a lone man
rowing along the shore
while a glossy crow
eyes us hopefully
as we munch!

A dander along
a disused railway track
where bunnies abound.
Dark-coloured geese
flying in a “V” overhead.

Brilliant white egrets
standing still
by the water’s edge,
like miniature herons.

The forlorn baying
of a donkey
carries across the water
from the far shore.
Darkening slopes of Slieve Donard
in the distance
as light begins to fade.

Finally, driving home
towards a glowing, fiery sunset.

A relaxing evening
filled with beauty
and peace –
thank You, Lord!

© Claire Murray, 17th July 2024