A Good Run is Better Than a Bad Stand: August 2011

It's our last night here, and I'm experiencing some pretty intense grief- I feel almost like I did when I went back to work after my maternity leave with Tess. I'm not overly sorry to leave Dublin, mind you. For better or worse, I was ready to leave the city pretty much as soon as we arrived- something Dublin apparently figured out and decided to avenge. Remember our wildly perfect last night in the north? Tonight was not that night. We barely managed to find a place to eat that would allow kids after 5 and didn't require a reservation, they forgot to give me back my credit card in a store (which I failed to notice) on the one night of this month long trip that ensures I'll never see it again, and finally, on the walk back from the Luas, a bird let fly all over me. Dublin, message received. I'm glad to leave you to the many who adore you.

But Ireland as a whole is a different matter.

It is in part the country itself, with it's outrageous, breath-taking beauty, deep history, rich mythology, lovely people and good beer. Especially in the North and the Republic's Northwest, I could spend a year just wandering around with my mouth agape and my heart cracked wide open.

But it's also this time I've had with my family. Here we were able to spend time together without worrying about the house or the bills (too much) or the disastrous state of US politics or the demands of my church or Michael's school or all the suffering in the world that usually overwhelms me.

I'm reminded of early Christian ascetics such as the Desert Fathers of Egypt or St. Kevin right here in Ireland, who cut themselves off from the world. They retreated from society not because they imagined they were better than the rest, but because they found themselves too weak to stand against the tide of society's ills. I don't think I'm too weak, just too sad, sometimes. It's been really nice not always being lost in grief. It frees up lots of energy to do other things- like hang out with my kids and husband and actually fully pay attention to them and be open to the wonder and beauty around me.

Alas for me, much as I'd like to retreat like the ascetics, I ultimately believe we're called not to step out in order to be faithful but rather to step all the way in. So I can't try to convince Michael to move to Donegal or Sligo, though the thought has crossed my mind numerous times.

And, there is an old Irish proverb that says "what fills the eye fills the heart." Much as I grieve leaving, I leave with a very full heart. And that will carry me into these next days.

And as for you, my friends and family who have shared this trip with me, as a parting gift, below is a review of just a few of the most lovely images from our time here, offered in the hopes that you too might find your hearts filled.
Allow me to leave you this one last time with an old Irish Blessing:

Deep peace of the running wave to you

Deep peace of the flowing air to you

Deep peace of the quiet earth to you

Deep peace of the shining stars to you

Deep peace to you.