Mammy told us many things
when we were wee.
Some of these
I have discounted over time
(such as our family being descended
from the kings of Derry and Donegal!)
Others, I have held onto.
Such as Mammy’s instruction
regarding moths –
“Never kill a moth
because it could be
a handsome prince
in disguise.”

To this day,
I never knowingly kill a moth
(even though I know for a fact
that it’s not a handsome prince!)

So today,
when I spotted a tiny moth
in our bathroom,
I rushed to get a plastic cup
to rescue him.
But as I moved towards him,
cup in hand,
the moth leapt about two inches
into the air
before falling down motionless
on the window sill.

“Oh dear!”
I thought to myself,
“I’ve given him a heart-attack!”

Saddened,
I placed the plastic cup
over the wee moth
and left the bathroom.
Ten minutes later
I checked the bathroom.
There was no sign of life
but I just couldn’t bring myself
to squish the wee moth.

Imagine my surprise
a short time later
when I went into the bathroom
and the moth was no longer
on the windowsill –
he was at the very top
of the plastic cup
on the inside!

He was alive after all!

Within a few minutes
the wee moth had been released
into the front garden.

Yay!!!

Later on
I find myself thinking
about the wee moth …

That wee moth was beautiful.
He was created by God
Who blessed it with the nature
to play dead when in danger.
and Who went to all the trouble
of creating a wile, wile wee heart
inside that tiny body.

I find myself thinking …
if God cares that much
about a wee, tiny moth,
how much more does He care
about each one of us?

And I also find myself thinking …
that wee moth surprised me
enormously …
how much more
will God surprise me,
if only I give Him the chance?

Isn’t God is truly wonderful ?
(far better than a handsome prince,
for sure!)

© Claire Murray, 2nd January 2026

Have you ever wondered
whether there is a patron saint
of D-I-Y ?

I wonder about it …

When I’m standing
at the foot of a ladder
while Paul repairs a gutter,
patches-up a porch
or repairs roof cement
I wonder … and I pray.

When Paul is sawing wood,
drilling holes,
building a log store
or fitting cladding to a wall …
I wonder … and I pray.

When Paul is painting a ceiling
high above the stairs,
when he is fitting smoke alarms
or laying loft insulation …
I wonder … and I pray.

I’m never quite sure
who to pray to
because I’ve never heard
of a patron saint of D-I-Y .
But I pray to Saint Joseph.
He was a carpenter, you see,
and if anyone knows
all about D-I-Y,
surely it’s a carpenter!

St Joseph, patron saint of D-I-Y …
I think that has a certain ring to it!
(Don’t you???)

© Claire Murray, 18th November 2025

Heart of Jesus

Buenos Aires, 1996.

A desecrated host
which has been found in the chapel
has been placed reverently
in a glass of holy water
to dissolve.
This glass is then locked safely away
in the tabernacle.

A week later
the glass no longer contains
a host –
it contains, instead,
a piece of flesh.

Three years later
the flesh remains in the glass.
It has not decayed
at all.

A sample is sent away
to a forensic pathologist
for examination.
This man is unaware of the background
of this piece of flesh.
His conclusion?
This is flesh
taken from the heart of a living person
whose body was under severe stress
at the time.
Its blood group is AB.

This is the same blood group
as Our Blessed Lord.

While this has never been declared
to be a miracle,
it is very much in my mind
as I kneel in adoration
before the Blessed Sacrament.

Not only is Jesus on the altar
in the form of body, blood,
soul and divinity
(as if that isn’t enough!)
but this is the very HEART of Jesus!

This blows my mind.

The Blessed Sacrament on the altar
feels infinitely more precious now
and I find myself praying
the words of an old hymn:

“Heart of Jesus, Heart of Jesus,
burning with love for me,
inflame my heart,
inflame my heart
with love,
with love for Thee.”

These words express perfectly
what I wish to say.
I need to add only one word –
Amen!

© Claire Murray, 11th November 2025

A wee clump of grass grew
in a crack in a kerbstone
alongside a busy road
in Belfast.
A wee dome of green spikiness,
only inches tall,
in the midst of bitmac, tarmac
and kerbing.

A wee green dome of beauty,
really!
I loved to see
this wee clump of grass
on my evening walks.

Then along came
an Irish summer.
First of all, the rain –
torrential and flooding,
half-burying the wee clump of grass
in mud.
Followed by a drought –
weeks without water
that caused the wee clump of grass
to wilt.
But the finishing touch came
courtesy of Belfast City Council
when one of its road sweepers
swept my wee clump of grass
into oblivion!

Oh, dear!

Now it’s autumn
with its gentle, warm
September breeze
and soft rain.
And guess what has returned?
My wee clump of grass,
all green, beautiful and spikey,
swaying slightly
as cars and articulated lorries
speed past!

Seeing it there makes me smile!

And it makes me wonder …
you know those times in life
when God doesn’t seem
to answer your prayer?
Could it be that sometimes
God isn’t saying, “No!”,
He’s simply saying,
“Not yet!”?

© Claire Murray, 13th October 2025

Lord,
someone spent fifteen years
studying the Shroud of Turin
and building a model
of You.

Shoulder-length hair
and a thick beard.
A nose that looks Roman …
or broken.
Gashes and slashes
in their hundreds
all over Your chest, back
legs and arms.
Gaping holes in Your feet,
knees bruised.

A body that was absolutely
tortured.

Fascinating
to see Your face,
horrifying
to see Your ravaged body,
humbling
because You did this for me.

And so I find myself
staring at this image of You
and I find myself to be
dumbfounded.

I did not deserve this.

© Claire Murray, July 2024

(https://www.catholicnewsagency.com/news/252551/the-first-hyper-realistic-body-of-christ-based-on-the-holy-shroud-is-on-exhibit-in-spain)

In my mid-forties
I remember drinking coffee with friends
at Belfast City Hall.
“In years to come”,
one friend commented,
“we’ll sit and drink coffee
while we discuss our ailments.”

“Not me!” I thought to myself.
(Growing old was definitely
for other people!)

Roll-on fifteen years
and those thoughts come back
to haunt me.

You see,
now that I’ve turned sixty,
aches and pains
have begun to appear.

Words of my mother-in-law, Dolores,
come to mind –
“Nobody ever thinks
that they’re going to get old!”
And Aunt Winnie, too –
“Growing old isn’t fun!”

Feeling somewhat humbled
by my aches and pains,
I settle down to pray
before going to bed.
“If this discomfort
is what You has planned for me, Lord,
then so be it.
In the meantime, Lord,
thank You for cod liver oil.”

The final part of my prayer
shocks me.
It can only mean one thing –
I’m definitely old!

Yikes!!!
(How did that happen?)

© Claire Murray, 2nd October 2025

We’re driving to the dump
and it’s not a pleasant drive –
supermarket warehouses,
demolished buildings,
huge building sites,
galvanised spiked railings,
graffiti.

All strictly functional.

Then we turn a corner
and to our surprise we see
a huge mound of earth
absolutely covered
in red poppies,
all swaying gently
in a light summer breeze.

I stare in amazement.
Poppies?
In this desolate place?

And yet there they are,
blowing and glowing
in the sunshine!

“Who on earth planted these?”
I wonder.

A few weeks later
I discover that flower seeds
can lie dormant
for decades
and then flower unexpectedly
when the ground is disturbed.

This all makes sense –
the poppies are a throw-back
to the days when this was all part
of the Bog Meadows
and some of the recent building work
has woken the seeds!

This gives me hope.
You see,
sometimes I worry
about seeds of a different kind
that I have sown –
seeds of faith
that were sown and nurtured
through the years,
only to disappear.

Maybe, like the poppy seeds,
they’re lying dormant,
waiting for the right conditions
to burst into bloom?

And so, as I remember
that beautiful mound
of swaying poppies
down by the dump,
I take heart
and I place my trust in God.

Time to be patient, I think!

© Claire Murray, 30th June 2025

Sometimes
life is a mess.
Maybe a mess
of our own making,
maybe a mess
of somebody else’s making.
But there’s no denying one thing –
it’s a mess!

I look at it
and think to myself,
“Where do I even begin
to start?”

Words of Imelda
spring to mind –
“Ask God to sort it out
and then leave Him
to get on with it!”

So that’s what I intend to do.
No fretting, no worrying,
no dwelling-on it,
no “what-if’s”.

I place this mess
in the hands of God
in faith and in love.

I have confidence in God
and I’ll do the few wee
bits and pieces
that I can

Then I’ll let God get on
with sorting this mess out.

© Claire Murray, 30th October 2024

Andrew’s got an important exam
today.
He’s been studying away,
night and day,
in preparation for it.
I’ve been praying for Andrew,
offering up Rosaries
and praying to Saint Joseph of Cupertino.

Now, it’s exam time.

I find myself in the chapel
where Adoration of the Blessed Sacrament
is taking place.

I kneel, bow my head
and tell Jesus
all about Andrew.
About Andrew as a small boy
in primary school uniform
at school morning Mass.
and about how hard Andrew works
and studies.
(I think Jesus knows all this anyway,
but sure there’s no harm
in reminding Him!)

I explain to Jesus
that right now,
at this very minute,
Andrew is in the middle
of a very difficult exam
and that he needs Jesus’s help.

All the while,
Jesus is up there
on the altar,
so, so close –
almost within touching-distance.

A sense that Jesus already knows
all about Andrew.
A sense that Jesus loves Andrew
from the top of his head
to the bottom of his toes.

And, as I genuflect
to leave the chapel,
a sense that I am leaving Andrew
in very good hands!

© Claire Murray, August 2025