A Week in the Connemara

We've just had a wonderful week away around Galway and the Connemara, on the West coast of Ireland. Breath-takingly beautiful, remote and raw, yet somehow welcoming and intimate. My soul, and I think my family's collective soul, rejoices!

I've posted a bunch of pictures on my facebook page, but here are a few memories to go with some of them...

The pic above is of Poppy, me and Megan (the slightly less 'enthusiastic' one) abandoned to the Atlantic wind at the end of the Sky Road, above Clifden. America, turn to the right and straight ahead. Just keep going...

And here's all of us, the day before, horse-trekking across bleak/beautiful hills, led by four children (health and safety? what's that?). Angel absolutely loved this and is now desperate to find horse-riding lessons somewhere. Ooops.

At the Atlantiquarium, once again it was fearless Angel who jumped at the opportunity to hold the starfish, and a huuuuuuuuge spider-crab. Ha ha

And this was the moment, as I stared at the huge fin whale skeleton hanging from the ceiling - the familiar spinal column and the neck vertebrae, the jointed 'arms' and 'fingers', even some of the skull and jawbone forms - when something I've wondered for many years seemed to click into place, there in front of me... the evolution of species in the attentive, loving hands of Creator God.

Gurteen Bay, backing onto Dog's Bay... the purest sand, the clearest (not to mention cold) Atlantic water, extraordinary cloud formations, glorious sunshine. Rock-pools and races through the surf. Walking with Emma, Swimming in the sea. This was my memorable moment.

Walking one of the Connemara National Park pathways... this was the Emerald Isle as I imagined it. Greener than the Lake District, but similar in so many other ways. Wonderful.

And then, a little further down the road, the view opened out onto Ireland's only fjord... and this has given us enough of a taste to want to get across to Norway and experience the awesome fjords there too.

Brigit's Garden (Jon , Rosi, Nicola - you have to check out the website, you'd love this), took us on magical tour of the Celtic seasons. We loved the celebration of nature, of creativity, the encouragement to be still and reflect, to consider the cycles and rhythms of life. For me, unexpectedly, this was a thin place...

"This is a time of death, and the promise of re-birth, a time of waiting and reflection... in the dark silence comes the whisper of new beginnings, the stirring of the seed beneath the ground. This is a place to be still, dream and prepare..."

We explored the pool for newts and diving beetles and blue dragonflies in the Samhain garden... we watched the swallows nesting in the thatched roundhouse... we whispered through the rocks under the Whispering Mound... we explored the woodland trails and the meadows... we danced (actually, we practised our salsa moves) in the Lughnasa garden... and the girls tied their wishes onto the wishing trees in the Bealtaine garden, before sitting on the bog-preserved wooden throne...

Angel stayed and read a lot of the wishes that other people had tied onto the trees - she seemed fascinated, and pointed out that Rosi and Jon had a prayer tree like these in their house.

In the car a bit later, while we were reflecting on our favourite bits of Brigit's Garden, I asked our girls if they thought wishes and prayers were different, or the same.
"I think they're different," said Megan. "Prayers are like when you're asking for something for someone else... and wishes are usually for yourself."
"I think they're similar," added Angel, "because God can hear wishes and God can hear prayers, and sometimes God makes wishes come true."

In Galway Cathedral, Poppy, Angel and I knelt together on the cold flagstones and lit a candle for a friend each, and then prayed one after another for them. Another of my favourite moments.

On the way out, a kind old man pressed some little 'Mary' pendants in our hands. "What's this for?" I asked innocently. "It's Mary, Mother of Our Lord," he smiled... it was worth asking just to hear the thick Irish accent say those words. "She'll watch over you." I must have looked a little bit puzzled by this, but he continued. "You can talk to Jesus over there," he pointed towards a pew-ed area. "It's OK," I smiled, "we've been doing that..."

...in Brigit's Garden, among the wishing trees and the standing stones ...swimming on my back in the freezing Atlantic sea ...gazing over green hills and out to the distant islands ...in the caves and the cafes ...beside the peat fire and beneath the fin whale skeleton ...I feel like my soul has been talking with Jesus all week. Or maybe just listening?

Cheers, Ireland...

Comments

[Carla]

Those photos are stunning! What an amazing break :) xc