On a clear autumn evening
I stride out of work
and head straight towards the sunset
head held high
and smiling,
delighted to be able to enjoy
the luxury of a brisk walk.

Tonight,
my walk takes me along the West Link,
which is busy with traffic
at the beginning of rush-hour
in Belfast.

As I look around
cars and lorries rush past
hurrying to get home.
Everyone seems to be in such a hurry
in this busy city!

My attention is drawn away
from the rushing traffic beside me
and up towards the beauty
of a gradual autumn sunset
in which a peach sky
dotted with pink clouds
forms a perfect backdrop,
silhouetting the Balls on the Falls.

As I approach,
these huge mesh balls
appear to gradually
increase in size
until I stand close by,
marvelling
at these massive, intricate structures,
built by man
and marvelling also
at a beautiful autumn sunset
painted by My God.

This sight is so calming!

Sometimes
the works of art created by man
and the works of art created by My God
complement each other
so beautifully!

© Claire Murray, 3rd November 2014

Lord,
as I walk to work
I see Queen’s Bridge
reflected in the Lagan.
On this still, September morning
the reflection is eye-catching
but not perfect.
I sense you whisper to me,
“Claire, always remember
that for me,
you never have to be perfect;
you simply have to do your best.”

(c) Claire Murray, 2nd Sept 2104

Danny’s an old man now.
In his old age
Danny has shrunk a wee bit,
stooped a wee bit
and his flaming red hair has,
at long last,
turned sandy and grey.

Danny is dying of cancer.

Danny’s an intelligent man.
He worked out for himself
the various ways
that cancer might take him.
And when nurses revealed to the family
how the end might come for Danny,
the entire family was shocked …
… apart from Danny.

Danny predicted the news
and Danny accepted that news
some time ago
in silence.

Danny lives each day
at peace in himself
and in a quiet acceptance
that right now,
death is simply a part of his life.
Danny shrugs his shoulders
and quietly gets on
with the day to day business
of living.

I can see
that an important part
of Danny’s life
is the way in which
he faces death.

I can see
that Danny is old,
slightly stooped
and turning grey
but when I look at Danny
through eyes of faith,
I see that Danny is really
a giant among men.

© Claire Murray, 11th October 2013

When I was growing up
we had a canary called Dominic.
Dominic lived in his cage
and we used to hear wee birdy noises
coming from Dominic’s corner
of the living room:
cheeps and chirps;
scraping sounds
as Dominic sharpened his beak;
rhythmic squeaks
as Dominic swung
on his mirrored perch.
But for the most part,
Dominic was relatively quiet.

Occasionally,
as the family’s eyes were all glued to the TV
we would hear behind us
Dominic bursting into song,
singing his wee heart out.
Distracted by the TV programme,
we rarely turned round
but Dominic’s song of merriment
used to bring a smile
to all of our faces.

I am sometimes reminded
of Dominic’s song-bursts of merriment
when Fr David says Sunday morning Mass
at Hannahstown.
When the folk group starts
to sing the psalm
I find that I have to concentrate
on the music
but often, I hear a song-burst
from away down on the altar
and I know that it’s Fr David
singing the response of the psalm.
I sense that the folk group and Fr David
have united in song
and in prayer
and I’m aware
that we are all singing our hearts out
in praise of Our God.
And just like all of those years ago,
when Dominic used to burst into song,
the singing brings a smile to my face.

© Claire Murray, 23 February 2014

Looking back over a difficult year
I can see that my year
contained many challenges.
Sometimes I have struggled
and sometimes I have felt
deeply wounded.
And yet, looking back,
I can see the hand of My God at work.

Sometimes My God has led me
in a gentle manner
along a path that I must travel.
Other times My God has intervened
in a much harsher manner,
pruning away
at distractions in my life.
Sometimes that pruning has been severe,
causing me intense pain
and leaving me feeling distressed
and utterly bewildered.

Now I sense My God by my side,
shaking his head,
smiling sadly
and saying tenderly,
“Claire,
I had to prune you right back.
It was for your own good.”
My God then blesses me with a glimpse
of why this pruning
was so necessary.

Understanding dawns on me
and as I recognise the direction
that my life has since taken
I realise that, despite all of the pain,
the pruning was worth it.

© Claire Murray, 25th March 2014

I look behind me
and I see Black Mountain,
wreathed in lilac mist,
a picture of beauty, peace
and stillness.

That’s funny!
I didn’t see that
as I drove over Black Mountain this morning,
rushing on my way to work.
I saw grey mist,
a dull sky,
minutes passing on the clock;
that’s all!

Yet now, from a distance,
I see Black Mountain
from a whole new perspective.
I must remember
to step back more often,
take the long view
and trust that where I am
is exactly where I am meant to be
even when all that I can see around me
is mist.

© Claire Murray, 4th November 2011