December 12, 2010

I am either a fool or a skeptic but I am not sure which.

January 17, 2011

This battle inside is driving me nuts! For the most part hope was winning today but skepticism seems to be having the final say for the day.

Did you mean for this to be so torturous, Father, or did we do it to ourselves?

The Hypocrisy Of Christian Teachers, Preachers And Leaders

It is easy to understand why Christian teachers, preachers and leaders are often called hypocrites. We dare to teach the characteristics of Christ, knowing we will not always exemplify them. We seek to share His message of love aware that selfishness can still become our guide in weaker moments. We long to lead others to the path of Salvation but are forever unable to provide it ourselves.

There is a paradox of ego to contend with. We need confidence that Christ called us to teach and lead yet be free of prideful ego. We need to bow humbly before Christ but stand before the assembled. We need to believe we can deliver a message that may be hard to swallow, all the while knowing it is not our strength that will get us there. Though we need to prepare for the teaching we must allow the Spirit the freedom to deliver it and while an element of performance may be required at times to hold attention, everything must be saturated in truth and honesty or it is meaningless.

It takes courage to admit weakness. In a sense, the only way we can be worthy to share such a message is to admit that we are not worthy of it at all. The only way to not be a hypocrite is to admit that, in this sense, we are. We dare to teach about something we fail at for the glory of God.

How do we not question our ability to do this? How do we not feel like frauds in those moments when even the smallest doubt comes knocking on the doors of our hearts?

As leaders it is terrifying to be aware that personal faltering can affect another’s faith. We have all heard stories of churches being mortally wounded, of believers abandoning hope of a loving Savior upon news of a leader’s moral transgressions. When the messenger is mistaken for the message faith can be easily lost.

We teachers, preachers and leaders cannot provide the salvation, but we can help find the One who can. We are far from perfect and though Christ is in us, we do not always behave that way. Please do not let that deter you who are seeking because any who claim otherwise will only disappoint you. 

June 6, 2007

Yes, change needs to take place and I am waiting for the opportunity to present itself. I am waiting for it to show up, introduce itself and all I have to do is bath in the splendor of it! I want it to be easy.

But I know it won't be. I expect nothing to be. In fact, I anticipate the opposite.

May 20, 2007

And so, Shelley, what is your life meant to be about? What are you about? Get ready for the journey.

In April of 2006 my church dedicated a week to 24/7 prayer. As the week came to an end the church bulletin published a prayer I anonymously entered into the blog as I took on a 4am prayer time. (I was surprised to get to church and have some who know me better know instantly it was me who wrote it!) Here is some of my prayer:

My King, my Lord, my Papa. As I sit here now, tonight, as it is dark and rainy outside I try to remember how much darker it was before I knew you. I always knew you were there, even before I had been told about you – remember how I used to cry in my hidden closet when the darkness became too much to bear as a small child?

Faith is not the easy way. How many times in our pain have we, as Christians been tempted to turn our backs? It is such a human thing to do. When we perceive your better judgment as broken promises we want to turn from you. Even though I know that giving up my faith would be as easy as stopping breathing, there are days when I want to threaten to leave so that you would stop me and beg me not to go, proving I am still loved.

But for those who only see broken promises, who see you as a vengeful and vicious god, I pray Father, that you would grant us gentle hands and understanding so that we might help show the way back.

So often we seek to fix brokenness. Sometimes we just need to start with the patience of Job’s friends who sat in silence with him for days. How often do we just need a place to come to lay our hearts down and know that we are loved enough to just have silent support? How often does emotion overtake any words until there is just silent brokenness? Sometimes we need to simply sit silently at the foot of the cross with those who are broken and those who are lost…

It would be easier...

At the end of the day it would be easier not to care. It would be easier to have a “sensible” nine-to-five job that gets left behind while you head home. It would be easier to focus on making money, buying a house and creating a sense of security. That’s a goal that is achievable. It would be easier…

It isn’t an easy life. It’s not black and white. It’s messy and it can hurt like hell. But tell me: how do you see a hurting life, have a chance to make a difference and instead let go because it’s hard?

I will tell you I have the best job in the world. And I will mean it. I will mean it even when I am banging my heart up against a wall. I will mean it when the person I am trying to reach is spitting in my face. I will mean it at the end of the day when my mind won’t stop trying to figure out how to help someone who pretends they don’t want it. I will mean it because there is no way I could face myself at the end of the day knowing I might be able to make a difference in a life and I chose instead to care for no one but myself.

It isn’t easy but I didn’t sign on for easy. It hurts but I didn’t sign on for comfort. I could have chosen to follow theatre, photography, retail management. But I didn’t. We get one chance at life. One opportunity. We get to choose how we are going to spend a lifetime. It is easy enough to make a million excuses as to why we should focus on ourselves but when it comes to the end is that how you want to be remembered? Is that what you want your life to be about?

Perhaps it has been written over and over again so many times that it has lost meaning to you but consider Emily Dickinson’s words:

If I can stop one heart from breaking, I shall not live in vain; If I can ease one life the aching, Or cool one pain, Or help one fainting robin Into his nest again, I shall not live in vain.

I will not lie – there is a side of me that gets to the end of some days and wishes that there were someone there to cater to me. There is at times a self-seeking voice that suggests that things should be different, that I deserve more, that I am entitled to something because I was willing to care. But that is not the voice of love. It is the voice of one seeking to stop me in my tracks and guide me away from a willingness to love others toward a life focused on getting for my own gain. There is a catch though: I know a life lived for myself alone is meaningless next to the knowledge that I have gotten to be a part of so many stories, so many lives. It might be temporarily appeasing to spoil myself with small indulgences but I refuse to get to the end of this life with many toys and much wealth knowing that I did not leave this world a better place.

It is not easy to keep your focus from slipping back onto yourself once you return home alone at the end of the day after giving your all for those that God brings for you to love. It is not easy to watch those you worked so hard to love go down a path that can bring them to destruction. But what an honor to know that there is a good chance that the hand they will reach for once the chips have fallen could be yours; that you can help them find a place back on to solid ground; that you could be Christ’s love to those feeling so desperately alone.

Please help me to remember why I do what I do when my selfishness tempts me to walk away. I had a great friend who walked such a path of love and light during her days here and as she knew she was dying she reminded me every time she saw me in those last days that I, indeed, have the greatest job in the world. May my voice echo hers as I reach the end. May I know I did not live in vain.

“Oh God, to have reached the point of death only to find that you have never lived at all.” ~ Thoreau

Lonely Requests

I have come to realize that the times I am most lonely seem to be the times I am most disappointed in myself, the times I am most separated from myself. I am well aware that when I go fall asleep to myself I am unable to fully connect with others and I separate myself too from the most intimate relationship anyone will ever have, my Lord, my Savior, my Papa. Thus, in my loneliness as I ask for a hand to hold so I don’t have to do the hard work of remembering to love myself, I should be asking instead for the hand I am making the request of. How God must hurt as we come before Him, pouring out our sorrow, asking for petty things that lie outside of the immense gifts He so desires to bestow upon us. We might marvel at the banquet He has laid out for us but we prefer instead to turn our backs to nibble on the crumbs from our own pockets as if He were unaware of our actions. The sad thing is not that He is aware of such actions but that we can live in such a state that we, ourselves, are not.

New Life

See this photo at deviantart.com

There are seasons in life where passion is lacking; when everything is meaningless and lacking in joy. The question returns again and again, 

“Is this all there is?” I find my soul screaming in agony, “THERE HAS TO BE MORE TO LIFE THAN THIS!”

 All is grey. Nothing offers joy. Movement is a chore and breathing a curse. The weight of every thought drags my heart along the pavement and home seems so very far away, out of my reach or mere consideration.

See this photo at deviantart.com

But ever so slowly my soul begins to shed its skin again. It begins to awaken to itself and stir life amongst the ashes. I start to breathe new life and the Spirit again begins dancing within me. 

Passion is rebirthed and starts to inspire life. Each cell ignites the next and a fire begins to crackle. A winter’s worth of clutter slowly falls away and I can hear whispered promises of new life, creation and motivation. Eyes once hazy with sorrow and weariness widen at beauty that fades into winter’s background. So much stirs within me that it threatens to erupt into convulsions of sound, movement and utter joy. 

See this photo at deviantart.com

Life is again new, exciting and inspiring and I can’t help but wonder what happened to extinguish such passion during darker seasons of my life. How can I feel such passion, such life only to deteriorate into such depths of lifelessness? I can feel so alive and close to myself only to become a stranger residing within a shell of whom I once was.

See this photo at deviantart.com

In seasons of utter life I attempt to collect pieces of the passion to hold within my core so that in the deadened days of my soul’s deep winter I can warm myself in the glow of passion’s song, holding snippets of faded photographs of who I am, who I was made to be and how I am meant to live.

Inspire me, Papa. Lead me to Yourself and the wonders of all You created me to be. I am Yours.

Although I am not sure I would claim it as a hard and fast rule, I would rather be a fool than a coward!

http://browse.deviantart.com/?q=lonely&order=9&offset=72#/d1r4hk1

"There will never be a time when there is not distance between you and those you lead. We find that many of God’s leaders, including Jesus himself, spent much time in lonely places and living lonely lives. Even leaders surrounded by crowds need to accept that leadership is lonely because those crowds usually include fans and foes but few friends. Because leaders build community, oftentimes they find themselves on the outside looking in when it comes to having true peers and true community." -- Pastor Mark Driscoll

And the Door Opens...

September 7, 1998
So tomorrow I leave for Rosebud. This changes my whole life.

(Mah ha! Little did I know!!)

September 10, 1998
So here I am in Rosebud. A wonderful family have been keeping us housed, fed and loved. So... hmmm...I feel odd but I am not sure just why. See perhaps it would be the same if I were in any new place or it could be the community faith. It's a religious town and home. I love the closeness of the town - the love that radiates and the respect. Is it the religion that scares me? Am I afraid of what I believe? Or of losing that?
I do want to know about the Bible - I mean knowledge is something that I crave right now. I do believe in God, in my own way. I do see him as a creator and someone who watches over me and loves me. We all need something to believe in. I am afraid of losing a piece of me; of what I believe. So much of it confuses me. But now that I look into my heart to see what I believe - I'm not even sure what it is. I shouldn't be ashamed - I have done nothing wrong but here I feel as if I have. I feel like people can zoom right in to the center of me and see that I am different. They can't and even if they could (and I am up front about it anyways) no one would think less of me. I love the people.
This is such a huge decision to make but whatever it is it will all work out as it should. I believe in destiny. But just what is destiny? It's everything going as it was all planned in some great wondrous way. Therefore I will have faith. I believe in God and I, in my own way, pray. I believe in angels watching over me. I know nothing of Jesus and the Bible. This is what I have to go from. Here I have the opportunity to learn about theater in a small, close theater, away from 'structured', 'traditional' ways. I have the chance to be part of such a wonderful community for awhile and learn about something of which I know nothing. My job is to take in everything and filter it through me to come up with my own beliefs and choose my life and where I need to be. I don't have to accept all I hear but I should look at what's out there, right?
The girl here with me seems to think that she belongs here and I don't because she is indeed a Christian and I was never even baptized (nor can I even spell it!) and have a different knowledge of life. How can that be true? It's never been there for me to accept or reject. No one has a right to judge another, religious or not.
I need time to think. I'll make my decision back home in Calgary.

I have been considering the various roles within the Trinity as of late. A class I was taking in school, which sadly I have come to realize I will be unable to complete successfully at this moment, presented to me an encouragement to look at each part separately.  I am someone who can be okay with accepting something without fully understanding all of the parts that make up the whole. I do not need to know what makes my Jeep go, I just want to know that the magic will happen when I turn the key and it will take me from place to place (not that I expect the Trinity to serve me the same way!!). When it comes to faith, I have always been a believer. I have not always had the head knowledge that has come from discipline since accepting the title ‘Christian’ but I was always aware that there was something bigger than myself that was watching over me, loving me. The idea of God having three parts was fine with me and I accepted it as I do the various characteristics within myself. I know I can have a silly side that can give way to a serious, down-to-business side; a girly, classy, dressed-up and polite side that can also swing a hammer, play in the dirt and ride a motorcycle. I can be tough and walk through hell with someone yet turn to tears during a Hallmark commercial. These might appear to have opposite characteristics, but all are present within me. Why can’t God have three components?

            Lately though, I have been seeking to look at the various aspects of God. I am aware that we all teach from the bias of our own views and understandings and I want to seek understanding as free as I can get from other’s biases. This is a difficult thing because I have found that the more I learn about different theologians and how much of the Christian religion has been decided upon during various meetings of church leaders the more I ponder how watered down our idea of God has gotten. I recognize that God still speaks into his children, especially those who are seeking the truth of who God is but I know we humans are a screwed up bunch of beings who commonly misunderstand what is being said. When I consider different roles of each part of the Trinity that I have learned over the years so many questions exist that I doubt will ever really be answered until I sit with the Almighty when I go Home in the end.  Today I thought I would consider what the Trinity looks like to me.  What follows is not ‘Biblical’. I do not suppose it to be ‘truth’. It is what I feel inside my being that I lean on from my own intuition and I am well aware that I cannot create truth!

            Although it is often taught that Jesus takes our prayers and commissions them to the Father on our behalf, I, personally, feel that I can just pray to my Papa. Although I see Papa as the encompassing of all three persons of the Trinity, I also see it as being the Father, which the Spirit and Son stem from.

When I feel the need to personify the Father I see him as an old man and I imagine meeting with him in the kitchen of an old house. It is not a house I have known here on earth, but if is old and familiar and carries a sense of home that I don’t currently know. The walls hold memories of generations of families sharing life together and remind me that I was loved before I was born. For although they came long before me and may have never met me, the ones did who built the house did so for me.

So often our image of wisdom connects with people who have lived a long time and have plenty of life behind them. Papa, the old man in my ‘kitchen’, does not take on any of the characteristics I can think of to connect him with any of my family. You see I never knew my father’s father; he died before my parents were married. My mother’s father passed away when I was nine and I was not very close to him while he was alive. I have few memories of him. My own father has never played a very big role in my life. He did not seem to have much interest in being a father and it has only been recently that he has appeared to have any interest in knowing who I am (something I am thankful for). I don’t know what it is to have a father in earthly terms. My personification of the Father stems, I am sure, from more of what I would desire to have in a father than what I have known.

            We sit in the sun-warmed kitchen of my imagined home and chat and laugh while eating toast with jam and fresh brewed coffee. The kitchen is old, but clean. The chairs have metal legs and plastic-covered seats and backs and match the table. Though they are fifty years old they are in incredible shape. The toaster is just as old but pops toast cooked to perfection, the dial not touched in decades. There is always a bowl of fruit on the counter and although I doubt I have ever seen anyone eat it there is an ever-present partially used jar of marmalade jam that has been recently purchased.

            Papa is always wearing a pair of slacks and a cardigan sweater. When he’s in the house he also wears a pair of slippers with grips on the bottom. His hair is, of course, grey and balding on top without any attempt at a comb-over and he wears a pair of unobtrusive wire-framed glasses. He is always fully-shaven. One could see that Papa was strong and worked with his hands. Although he appears to be thin there is still a strength to him and his health is never in question. He sits with one leg crossed over the other and is comfortable with the silence. Though he has much wisdom to offer he will listen as long as I need him to, allowing me to ramble on. I am one to let my words get away on me and can fill a room with chatter if someone were to offer the time. I know I have the freedom to in this kitchen but at the same time know I really don’t have to say a thing and he will already know everything there is to say.

            Sometimes we go for walks in my mind. We would head out, down the dirt road from the house. The light is always golden and the air always fresh and life giving. It is always the perfect temperature for walking. There is no sense of rush or direction, just a comfortable moseying of people happy to be in each other’s company. Every so often he will catch my hand when I need to be reminded that he will always have my back and offer me a place to return to no matter what. He often laughs with me, patting me on the back while he throws his head back in the joy of the moment. I know he will always be honest with me and offer me advice. He knows when I need to just walk together in silence but is also skilled at riding my stubbornness, catching the wake at the exact point I am willing to uncover my ears and hear his wisdom. Papa is a gentleman and will allow me to hide at times but loves me enough to be stern in his gentle, grandfatherly, not-to-be-missed way when needed. He will find me when I need to be held and stand close by and smile when I head back into the world to live my life for him. Although I can choose to head home to meet him in the kitchen, he does not live in the house or on the quiet dirt road and is instead with me always.

            Jesus lived in flesh and reminds me he know what it is to be human. Although he is build from the same cloth as Papa he is a younger version of him if you will. He is with me always and acts as a brother, a friend and a coach. He goes for runs with me, cheering me on. I take him for rides whenever I get in the Jeep or ride my bike. Jesus walks with me always and points out what I should pay attention to and not miss. He goes before me and seeks out the path I should follow, showing me what I need to look out for. He doesn’t lose his temper when I bypass his good advice nor does he belittle me when I condemn myself and suggest he can tell me, “I told you so.” He never does, though and instead forgives me and takes my hand, offering me the courage to forgive myself as well.

            When I can’t sleep I know he is sitting on the edge of my bed, holding my hand. He understands the broken places I still don’t inside of me and reminds me we are all broken and the pain will cease. For every tear I have cried he sat beside me crying a thousand more. In my seasons of darkness when I felt overcome by life he would quietly remain next to me as I begged him to leave me. So often we expect God to have human characteristics. He knows that when feeling unworthy of love we sometimes try to push others away to see if they are willing to fight for us; to see if they will give us the worth we can not find for ourselves at the moment. He does stay. Always. To him, I am always worthy even if I cannot understand why.

He reminds me of who I want to be and how I promised to live my life when I am acting out of my less-than ideal self. He nudges me when I lean on self-seeking temptations and sits with me in my misery when I am disappointed with myself. When I lack courage he becomes bigger to take on my fears. When I am weak he will take the reins offering the strength to continue. In my moments of selfishness when I deem to judge others as less than myself he reminds me that I have no right to attempt to usurp that role from the Father. He gently puts me back in my place alongside the rest of his children, reminding me he loves them, too.

Jesus was the embodiment of love and continues to play that role in my life. He shows me how to live my life in worship and guides me to the places he desires for me to live that out. I know he loves the Father and desires to share that love with me. We work together in serving the Father by loving and serving those around us. He teaches me how to love and walk alongside others, offering what strength I can for their journey.

The Spirit is a dancer. It is a mystical combination of emotion, beauty and color being carried on a breeze that binds me together with the Father and Son. It invites me to live within the combination of the Trinity. I breathe it in and allow it to move through me: healing my brokenness, revealing my truths and offering peace and calm when I am stressed and impatient. It whispers my name when I have lost focus and sends shivers through me when I connect with another in a moment of God’s truth.

The Spirit is a blanket when my heart breaks and reminds me it is Christ’s tears I am crying when the pain of the world breaks my heart. It stretches beyond myself to others, allowing us to connect on a deeper level than I can understand. It is the water that gentle encourages my soul to grow and become. It encourages me to create, to dance, to run, to laugh.

It leads me to return again and again to Papa’s kitchen, reconnecting with the core of my being. The Spirit sings songs to me that are familiar yet distant. It paints pictures of how life could be and how Papa wishes it were. It simultaneously binds me to the truth of where I come from while freeing me from the past that cannot control me. It is a familiar mystery that I cannot not know nor fully explain or understand. 

And I am okay with that. 

The believer can only perfect his faith on the ocean of nihilism, temptation and doubt; he has been assigned the ocean of uncertainty as the only possible site for his faith. On the other hand the believer is not to be understood undialectically as a mere man without faith.

Just as we have already recognized that the believer does not live immune to doubt but is always threatened by the plunge into the void, so now we can discern the entangled nature of human destinies and say that even the non-believer does not represent a rounded and closed existence. However vigorously he may assert that he has long left behind him supernatural temptations and weaknesses and now accepts only what is immediately certain he will never be free of secret uncertainty.

Just as the believer is choked by the salt water of doubt constantly washed into his mouth by the ocean of uncertainty, so the non-believer is troubled by doubts about his unbelief, about the real totality of the world which he has made up his mind to explain as a self-contained whole. He can never be absolutely certain of the autonomy of what he has seen and interpreted as a whole; he remains threatened by the question whether the belief is not after all the reality which it claims to be.

Just as the believer knows himself to be constantly threatened by unbelief which he must experience as a continual temptation, so for the unbeliever faith remains a temptation and so a threat to his permanently closed world.

            - Joseph Ratzinger, Intro to Christianity 

There is a sorrow that comes in spring time that is out of place in my world. It is a time of excitement and warmth, of rebirth and newness and yet I feel so homesick for something that I can not find nor explain. It is something that feels so deeply a part of me that I should somehow know what it I am looking for, mourning over and seeking to find. 

This emptiness calls to old memories stored deep within me and I wrap them around myself like a security blanket that still holds the scent of people and places so far from the present. Some memories hold no faces or specific situations, but rather emotions and auras of times past. They whisper to me and I long for places and times I rarely find myself thinking about. 

In spring I find I tend to curl up inside of myself for awhile and seek to slip awake to be alone with my thoughts. It is not a  time of hopelessness and deep sadness but a time of detached melancholy that does not over take nor diminish my enthusiasm for life. In the spring something calls to me and I have no choice to seek whatever it is. There is a loneliness within it, but one that does not cause me to feel without love and support. 

I feel like I am trying to catch my shadow, but have never seen what it looks like. I can grasp at it but never catch it. I know that in time this season will end and the longing will again lay dormant inside of me again but for now I long to climb inside memories of long late night spring walks, lazy days laying in the warm summer sun and evenings around cozy fires that I wished would never end. 

Sometimes I feel like I dropped pieces of myself along the roadside when I wasn't paying attention and if I could just find the way back I could pick them up and begin to feel whole again. 

A Return to Ireland - Chapter one (Chapter 2 to follow in hopefully less than 5 months!!)

I realize I left those of you who follow my life journeys hanging for a long time there (in fact I know one of my 'follower' left completely!). We did survive Ireland and the crazy skinny, super fast roads!! By the time we left I felt like I could take on race car driving and that our wide, flat, straight, Canadian road would never look the same to me!

It really was the trip of a lifetime and both of us would go back in a heartbeat!!

I abandoned blogging in favor if editing and posting the 1300 photos I took! I also had less alone time to write with my traveling partner along. (You'd never believe it, but we got along the entire the time, laughing most of the way!!)

So! In Ireland I left you in Blarney. Allow me now to continue our journey as I look back fondly after all these months!

Barney, Co. Cork

My Ma and I wondered around after dinner chatting, wondering where the castle itself was. It was a nice evening and although it would have been nice to stop for a drink, the only pub we found was filled to the roof with loud twenty-somethings (those crazy young'ins!) so we headed back to our fancy hotel built into an old woolen mill and our cozy separate rooms (hey, we love each other, but need to build in breathing space so we can continue to love each other!!)

The next morning we headed off to find this castle. You would never believe it, but this huge castle was a five minute walk from our hotel! It is magically nestled into the trees and is not even noticeable from town square! As you head along the manicured lawn with it's little creek, flowers and big green trees, it emerges as if out of nowhere.

We ended up following a terrified woman up the tiny steps to the top of the castle cheering her on the whole way, stopping to indulge the curious child longing to explore the rooms and hiding places. It seemed as though any of the monuments that were being preserved as historical sites lacked a sense of magic that the more abandoned sited held, but between the grounds and story behind this castle it still managed to capture the heart the same way.

The Blarney Stone itself was hidden at the top of the castle along the top wall, in such a place that those wishing to kiss it and receive it's promise of the gift of eloquence are forced to lay on their backs and lower themselves with the help of a spotter to lift their lips of it. It is said that an old witch that lived in the forest around the castle reveled the secret of the hiding spot of this famous stone, sought after by many. We

made the climb and although Mom did lower herself down there to blow the stone a kiss, I was content to simply wave. I figure I am eloquent enough already ;)

The grounds themselves were a great adventure to explore! In fact there was one point when I was a little ahead on the path and

stopped to take a picture and Mom, enamored with all she was seeing smashed right into me! The path was even several feet wide! I know this does not seem like a terribly humorous tale but I guarantee when Mom reads this post she will fall over laughing all over again!!

This is the type of land that I an sure inspired the tales of Merlin and King Arthur! It has caves and crevices that it is believed that druids and ancient Celts worshiped and performed ceremonies. It has enormous plants, waterfalls and wildly gnarly trees that inspire imaginations! It was definitely one of my favorite places on our trip!

Cobh

After we pulled ourselves away from the castle we decided to take a 'short' drive (make that a frustrating and difficult) drive through (the busy and frustrating traffic) of Cork to the port city of Cobh, known for a while as Queensland.

This would have been the port our (and everyone else's) relatives departed from. We barely snuck into the interruptive center before it closed, which turned out to be mostly a disappointment. One thing that sticks out for me is how it tells of the Titanic departing from it's shores and that there was a great tragedy, but fails to mention what actually happened!! We were able to understand better the reasons behind people's choices to leave this beautiful land. Between 1848 and 1950 2.5 million of the six million Irish people who emigrated to North America departed from this port. My ancestors were amongst the first to leave around 1850 with approximately 1000 others. Their journey would have taken nine months and they were required to bring their own food.

Remember that in those days there are no stabilization mechanisms on these boats. It would have been a long, very difficult voyage! As we flew home in our (in comparison) cozy airliner, with (in comparison) warm, catered meals we reminded ourselves of what our ancestors had to endure so we could grow up in North America!

Cobh was a beautiful place with it's brightly colored houses and huge cathedral style church, but we were tired and hungry so we found a place to eat (which was always a challenge in Ireland with my food issues!!) and pushed to get back to Blarney without having to conquer the roads in the dark (I allowed Mom to drive ;) She did great!)

Journal entry June 23, 2008

Temptation often carries me unnoticing through the doors of religion where I abandon self and intimate relationship and slip into the motions of pseudo-faith. Here I attempt to build a relationship constructed through what I perceive as being ‘correct’ forms of ‘devotion’ rather than heart-cry passion. Here I put on who I wish I could be in these moments rather than who God created me to be. Such a motion spits in the face of a Creator who desires me to be someone so different from who I might put on to present to him. He longs for me to come approach Him from the center of where am I without hiding, without excuses, without fluffing myself up to impress Him or putting on a character to dazzle Him. He wants the devotion and heart of the woman He made me to be. He wants me to come to Him with my hands open, willing to be taught and

trained; molded and shaped.

Raise your chin, child. Lift up your shoulders. Breathe deep the breath of God and build your confidence of who you are: a daughter of the King. He made you to be someone amazing! Accept the challenge to really live!

Over A Week later...

Back in Dublin

Oh, my! It has been a while! SO... I did head back to Dublin and got terribly lost in the city - no street signs and no where to pull over and figure out where in the heck ya are! The thing is even if you could pull over if you don't know where you are, you can't figure out how to get to where you want to be!! I wandered around for 2 hours and finally returned the car - a welcome relief!

The next few days flew by! I wandered around by day and checked out a few sites in Dublin and took it easy and in the evenings I volunteered at the Absolut Fringe. Mainly I stood around telling people where the bathrooms were or took tickets, but it was cool to be able to hang out with other volunteers and have some people to chat with. I saw only one show the whole way though and wish I didn't - it was crude and not my taste in the least. The rest of the audience seemed to enjoy it. Of the other nights I worked I caught little bits and pieces and had a great time. I stayed at a little guesthouse on South Great George St just outside of Temple Bar - close enough for everything to be handy and far enough to be more on the quiet side.

A New Adventure

I picked up mom from the airport on Thursday where we also picked up our new rental car - a grey Nissan Micra. The best part - it is automatic! We headed off to an area not too far away just north of Dublin called Sutton Cross for the night and then on Friday we caught the main road around Dublin and headed south into County Wicklow. 

Glendalough (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Glendalough)

Here you find the remains of a Early Medieval monastic settlement founded in the 6th century by St Kevin, a hermit priest, and destroyed in 1398 by English troops. It has a high tower, grave yard and churches. We have found that farther from Dublin things are easier to find. It probably also helps that I am not both driver and navigator and that I am getting more used to Irish roads! It is a cool, but popular site so there are plenty of people visiting. It is a beautiful and moving place.

Old Castlemacadam Church

We were heading toward Woodenbridge where we were staying and right after we passed through Avoca there was this old unmarked church covered in ivy. I turned the car around made a (rather fast and unexpected) turn into the little driveway next to the outside wall and we drove up to the top of the drive was only to find the gate locked tight. I was quite disappointed but took a few shots around the gate. As we left we found another little gate, pulled over again and found this one unlocked. This place was magic! There was an unreal sense of awe and sacredness. It was full of peace and wonder. I could have stayed here for hours breathing in the magic. 

This is by far my favorite place so far in Ireland! I searched for a long time on line before finding any information on the church or even the name of the little town it is in. I found that this parish was Protestant and was founded in 1720. 

St. Mary Church - Gowran

We left Woodenbridge heading toward Thomastown when we passed though Gowran in County Kilkenny and saw another set of ruins that were calling to us. It was another sudden turn into what I thought would lead into a parking lot. I was wrong! It lead to another locked gate! This one, however was so tight and would mean either backing into a busy street of a 12 point turn. We choose the 12-point turn and much laughter! We found an open gate and headed in. There is no way to capture the magic of this church! It was terribly elaborate and beautiful! It was collegiate church and was built in the late 13^th century on the site of an earlier monastery. In the 19^th century the tower was added on between the two structures. It is still in use today as is the surviving building. 

Jerpoint Abbey – Thomastown

This abbey in County Kilkenny is open to the public and has been partially restored. Although most of the structure is in its original state it lacked the sense of awe and sacredness that the previous 2 did. It is believed to be founded in 1160 by Donal MacGillapatrick, King of Ossory and was colonized by Cisterian monks in 1180. The abbey was dissolved in 1540 and all 1880 acres of land held were presented to the earl of Ormonde. 

Sunday

I can’t believe that it was just yesterday that we passed through Gowran and Jerpoint! It seems like so few things that we have done, but traveling between places and then stepping into the past through the left over ruins takes a lot out of a person! We stayed in a nice, but terribly loud room in Colmel in County Tipperary. We stopped into the hotel pub for a drink but lounged too long and missed the opportunity to have dinner there and so were forced to eat at the fast food joint across the street. This morning we got up and headed off for Cashel to see the abbey there.

Rock of Cashel (http://www.sacred-destinations.com/ireland/rock-of-cashel)

AKA: St. Patrick’s Rock, Cashel of Kings.

Cashel means stone fortress. History suggests that this site was first build as a defense post in the 4^th or 5^th century and was the seat of the High Kings of Munster. Most of the current buildings date back to the 12^th and 13^th centuries.

It has also been believed that St. Patrick visited this site in the 5^th century and converted Aenghus, the reining king at the time to Christinaity. As the story goes, Patrick accidently stabbed the king in the foot with his crosier during the process. The king, unfamiliar with Christina ways, thought it was part of the initiation rite and simple bore the pain.

Mitchelstown Caves (http://www.mitchelstowncave.com/)

While at the hotel in Clonmel we got a guide for the area and mom found an add for these caves that were once an underground river. They were unreal! Naturally, it was dark and moist, but the work of the water over thousands of years can be unreal! The stalagmites and stalactites were beautiful. The guide showing us through said that the acoustics were great and that concerts had actually been held down there in the past! When she asked for a volunteer to check them out I couldn’t resist and belted out the intro to ‘Someone to Watch Over Me’.

Backyard Castle

The road to the cave was a tight squeeze! You didn’t want to meet someone long it, that’s for sure! As it was a ways in, I thought perhaps we should keep in the same direction on the way out regardless of where it took us. Along the road we noticed the remains of a castle (this is so common in Ireland that sometimes it just ends up being a random building forgotten in a field!). As we got closer we saw that it was simply sitting in the back yard of a house! Mom went to the door and asked if we could see the castle and the lady kindly let us wander through her yard and under the (possibly electric) fence to gander at the remains. It was Burncourt Castle and was built in 1641 by Sir Richard Everard. Unfortunately it was burned down by Cromwell in 1650. Everard was hanged by Ireton a year later and so the castle has laid in ruins ever since! An old rhyme says, ‘it was seven years in building, seven years living in it and fifteen days it was burning’.

Sunday is Parade Day!

After our back yard journey, we headed to Ballyporeen for something to eat. It was so dead that we asked a few fellows outside a pub where the best place to eat was and their answer was simply the next town over! We headed back to the car just as an old car parade pulled through town past us! We laughed and watched the cars go by and headed for the next town when we passed another parade: a tractor parade!! It was all the tractors in the area following each other through the countryside!!

Thai Food in Ireland

Tonight we are in the home of our ancestors: County Cork. We are staying at the Blarney Stone Mill Hotel and tomorrow we will head to the Castle to (perhaps) kiss the stone (I am not sure I can do it – do you how many people have kissed that bloody rock! Ew!). We headed to Blarney town square for dinner and came across as Thai food restaurant! We both love Thai and so headed in for the best meal we have had while on the island!

And so now it is past my bedtime and I need to hit the hay!Good night all! Blessings to you all! Keep following us as we head across the south to the west coast!

- shel