Faith, Hope and the Greatest of these is Love

Hello, to my loved ones,

both near and far

When Irish Eyes are smiling...Some things the heart remembers best .

I am lucky to be Irish, and to have been raised by an Irish immigrant who instilled in me a love for her homeland and heritage. My childhood was filled with the influences of listening to a constant Irish brogue, Irish music and even sometimes a step dance or two. Although I was not able to "hop the pond" like many of my first cousins often did during the summers, my attachment to family and my heritage is no less because of it.

I woke up late this morning, because I was enjoying a dream about visiting Ireland. This vivid dream was based on memories that I have from spending five weeks at my grandmother's cottage when I was nine. Although I have never returned, my memories are as colorful and clear in my dreams now, as they were when I was nine.

As an adult, I have been able to revisit these stories each year with my students. As the Religion teacher in a Catholic Elementary school for the last 11 years I couldn't even imagine letting St. Patrick's Day go by unannounced. Usually, my middle school students copy down the words to the song "O Danny Boy" in their Religion notebooks. We discuss the meaning of "immortal souls" . We also discuss the links between generations in families and how love influences this. Memories often enhance these familial links. Then, after listening to "O Danny Boy", I tell them a true story.

I had been teaching Religion to fidgety, middle school students for a few years, with the St. Patrick's Day routine always the same: notes, music... the bell rings.....student's gone. I wasn't sure I was making any in roads with their minds or souls, considering I was competing with their ipod music, and most were indifferent to an immigrant's plight anyway. But the young teacher across the hall, was from Australia and her unique accent did interest them. One Easter break, she and another teacher decided to take a fly/drive vacation to Ireland. She asked me if I wanted anything from her trip. I said 'no', but if she happened to go to a certain Irish village, named Clifden, would she consider visiting my grandmother's cemetery as it was less than a mile out of the town. I told her of an Aunt that was now widowed and lived next door to Granny's cottage, that I had visited as a child. And I gave her my grandfather's name, my mother's maiden name, my name and my aunt's name.

The teachers found their way to the ancient village town. The young, Australian teacher taught across the hall from me in school, and often heard my Irish lessons. So, they decided to see if they could find the cemetery. Elsje later told me, that when she found the gravesite of both my grandparents, and other family members, the words to "O Danny Boy" came 'to life' for her. She now felt a new connection to her own family, in a spiritual way. For without faith, what is there to hope for? They said an "Ave" for me at Granny's grave and continued on the road to her now vacant cottage. Then, they went to next house, was where my Aunt still lived. They were welcomed - unannounced- and shared tea and lunch with my Aunt Chrissy, whom I had only seen twice in my lifetime. May God rest her soul, as she is now buried in the same cemetery.

I later shared this new episode with the next class of St. Patrick's day students. And I discovered the following additional story. Although it is not mine to share, I think it reflects many of the storytelling qualities I relish. Although this particular song, may be true to another family, the sadness of separation is deeply felt in the lyrics. The Circle of life is there. The belief that we will be together again, in faith, is there.

But most of all, to me, the song reflects familial love, and how that bond can not be broken, not even in death. I feel that deeply. And am grateful for the faith instilled in me by my family. And I hope I have witnessed that same faith to my family. And with all of that, and a wish for eternal life: I wish all of you a Happy St. Patrick's Day, 2010.

Love, Smileyblueyes

Please honor me and those who went before me, by listening to this:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gsOA-5H_L2g&feature=related

Leprechauns and Shamrocks

St. Patrick's Day

is my favorite holiday. I love the music,

the stories, the wearin' of the green,

and hearing Irish brogues. I grew up

hearing the music of that language

from my mother who emigrated to

the states from Ireland at the age of 16.

I was taught Irish ballads, Irish step

dancing, the "Stack O' Barley" (a dance),

how to make Irish Soda Bread, and inherited a little

Blarney in the area of language and storytelling.

I grew up doodling little green shamrocks. I was taught

that St. Patrick converted the (pagan) Celts from their

sorcery by using this little wildflower that covers the

landscape with many shades of green. I, myself, came

to minimally understand that the Blessed Trinity was

three persons in one God, by looking at a shamrock.

And if St. Patrick could chase all the snakes out of

Ireland, what other super hero could a person need

in their life? Of course, there were leprechauns and

banshees, but these mythical creatures lived in the

land of faeries. And we could always search for them

at the end of the rainbow where they could find a

pot of gold. Wouldn't that be nice for all of us in

today's economy?

One story I do tell is about my own family.

I speak about how I was lucky enough to travel to

Ireland with my mother and sister, the summer I

turned 9 years old. This was my Mother's first

home visit, since her emigration to the USA,

14 years earlier. The five weeks I spent on

my grandmother's farm were simple days filled

with new sights, sounds, and smells. There were

barn animals,with all of their delights. There

was a peat stove that cooked the family meals,

and warmed the afternoon "tea". There was

even a 'wishing' well like in the story of

Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs. I have

so many memories from that one experience.

But the one I share at this time of year, has

to do with Faith and Family. During the five weeks

I was there, my sister, Irene and I, didn't have any

toys to play with. So, my Grandmother gave us

each a tablespoon to explore with. And explore

we did! And when it was almost time to leave,

Irene and I hid our spoons and a few small

treasures in the stone wall that separated

the chicken courtyard from the path to the

outer property where the larger animals grazed.

We did not mention this to my Grandmother,

at the time. I was nine, and Irene was seven

years old when we left Ireland.

When I was eighteen, my Grandparents came

to this country for a month long visit, and I was

able to visit with them, for a day. My Granny

said nothing about the spoons. So I asked if

she had ever found them. "No" she said.

Then, when I was in my early thirties, they came

again to visit. This time, Granny called me aside,

and asked me if I remembered where in the wall the

spoons were hidden. I said, "Yes!" and she told me

that she and Dody (my Grandfather) were repairing

the wall, and came across the spoons Irene and I

hid so many years before. They made the decision

to leave that part of the wall as it was, so Irene

and I could return one day to find our treasures.

I was married then, and had two small children.

I had always intended to go back.

But.......

As Granny and I were saying our goodbye's, I

remembered that she was now 86 years old. I

knew I would probably not see her anytime soon.

But she asked me to return for the spoons and

to sharea cup of tea. And I promised I would.

At the door, when we went to hug goodbye,

I noticed she was wearing a Miraculous Medal

of our Blessed Mother, with blue enamel.

Understand, this was a woman I loved,

but had only seen for a total of about forty

days in my entire lifetime! As we hugged I said,

"Oh! You love her too!"

(referencing a devotion to Mary, the Mother of God,

and the medal's promises). Granny said,

"Yes, and the next time we meet,

it will be in heaven with her,

and we will have that cup of tea!"

Within the next two years, I had another

baby, and Granny died, in Ireland, in the home

I had visited. My sister, and my Mother returned

to Ireland for the funeral. Irene went back to

find the spoons...they were there....as Granny

had promised. So, Irene left them there for me.

I am much older now, and have still not found my

way back to Ireland, but two teacher friends' were

making a vacation trip there a few years ago. I gave

them directions to "Granny's house" and the cemetery

where Granny and Dody are buried, in Connemara

Clifden, Galway. To my surprise, they actually found

their way to the house. They found the neighboring

house, where my Aunt Chrissy welcomed them, and

fed them lunch ~ and a cup of tea. Angela and Elsje

found their way to the cemetery and they visited the

graves of my beloved relatives. And while there, there

remembered the words I had been teaching Religion

Classes in an Irish song called "Danny Boy". (listen below)

With Faith, these words say it all.

Without Faith....What is there?

Happy St. Patrick's Day!

Danny Boy

Oh Danny boy, the pipes, the pipes are calling

From glen to glen, and down the mountain side

The summer's gone, and all the flowers are dying

'Tis you, 'tis yo must go and I must bide.

But come ye back when summer's in the meadow

Or when the valley's hushed and white with snow

'Tis I'll be here in sunshine or in shadow

Oh Danny boy, oh Danny boy, I love you so.

And if you come, when all the flowers are dying

And I am dead, as dead I well may be

You'll come and find the place where I am lying

And kneel and say an "Ave" there for me.

And I shall hear, tho' soft you tread above me

And all my dreams will warm and sweeter be

If you'll not fail to tell me that you love me

I'll simply sleep in peace until you come to me.

I'll simply sleep in peace until you come to me.