and companions on the road

Flax was laid in a field to dry and had to be bleached before it was beautiful white linen. The flax flower is the new symbol of the Northern Ireland Assembly because they had to choose something neutral that represented Northern Ireland’s shared history and shared future. The children at Ballygolan could identify Ian Paisley as First Minister, but had no idea who Martin McGuinness was. Teachers everywhere have that student who they just don’t know what else to do about. “Clon” means a hill with sheep and “drum” means hill. I think that pretty much every name of a place in Northern Ireland comes from the same list, they just pick two pieces and put them together. Ballycultra, Ballygomartin, Clonard, Dundrum, Dungiven, Drumallis, just to name a few. During the gun running of the first period of the Troubles in the early 1900’s, the port of Larne was used as a drop point for gun smuggling. My haircut, that cosmetic sacrifice, was something that I shared with the ladies of the Coffee Morning and they felt that it really connected me with them. A woman who used to be a childrens’ nurse felt that it was a particularly special moment and she grew closer to me by sharing that with me. Faith journeys meet at strange moments and you suddenly realize that you are treading on the holy ground of someone’s walk with God. You realize the blessing of the intimate joy in hearing that story and it makes you walk a little more softly in reverent awe of God’s glory. It’s okay to say you don’t feel like doing something and it’s okay to want to have your decision respected. My great idea to write something in glue and then cover it with tiny sequins was not a great idea, but I didn’t realize it until my fingers were stuck together with glue. My friend Anne makes me laugh when I need it most and I want to be just like her when I’m 70. Sometimes I’m overwhelmed by the thought of being back in the classroom again and others I feel like I might jump out of my skin if I have to wait much longer to be teaching. The schools didn’t teach Irish history and two people I spoke to this week said everything they know about Ireland they had to learn from books they read on their own. Cookstown has the widest main street in Ireland. I wish I could still swing on monkey bars and jump rope for more than 5 minutes.

These are just a few of the things I’ve learned about myself and the place I live this week. A few, and as I was recalling each I was overwhelmed by the volumes swimming in my head and heart, the things I’ve absorbed and gained just in a few days time. How will I share all that I have learned, seen, and done this year? How will I communicate it in such a way that will do this year justice? How will I use words to paint a picture that conveys what is in my mind? It is huge to me to think of returning home and scary to think of the resposibility of sharing my year. But I feel an urgency and an excitement at the same time, because I have such a confidence in what God can do. God can extract from my experience that exact thing that should be shared with the exact listener or receiver. I know he can do it and I thank him for the times this year that I was the listener or receiver.

When I came to Belfast, I told your stories. I related to people by telling them of how you had given me the strength and courage, building me up so I could take this journey. When I come home I can’t wait to tell you their stories, of how they loved me and folded me to their hearts, teaching me more than I ever could have imagined about myself and the love of God.

When I lived in South Carolina, I talked like a South Carolinian, I thought like a South Carolinian and I reasoned like a South Carolinian. Now that I have lived abroad and loved another city I weave the ways of childhood into my present attitude. For when we see only our own community we know only our part, but when we see the world we know our part in it more fully, opening ourselves to the fullness of God knowing us through the love of others, his children.