Today is my last day/night in Killarney. I’ve loved being here. I had originally planned to leave and go up to Galway half way through the week. I’m so glad that I changed my mind and stayed here longer. Today was just a day to wander and enjoy the town. Remember the other day I mentioned how I think the Irish don’t live in houses, but live in magical little cottages that are right out of our fairytale book stories. I was never able to get a good picture of what I was talking about as we whisked by so many of them on the road in a bus. Today, I was able to capture a great picture of what I mean and then I was in a gift shop. See the following photos! The middle picture is a 1834 cottage that has been turned into The Tea Room on the edge of Killarney National Park. LOL
What is really great about The Tea Room is that they are using the restaurant to train people with Down Syndrome on how to be servers. I loved having lunch there today - a ham and cheese toastie.
Each day I’d gone on a tour or bus to head out of town, we passed St Mary’s Cathedral, which is different from St. Mary’s Church (both in Killarney). I finally had time to walk to it and explore. I timed it perfectly to “crash” a wedding (on a Thursday at 1pm?)
Wedding Bells
I’ll tackle the first two in the same story. On an earlier day in the week I stopped at a cafe called Mug and Bean which had an inner wall of glass that they shared with the local grocery store. I was drinking my morning coffee when the automatic doors at the grocery store opened to allow a customer to exit. Before they closed, a bird wandered in. It flew around in the foyer of the grocery store for a short while trying to find it’s way out. The longer it was inside the more desperate it seemed to want out. A male executive with a tie and name tag came out with a female clerk who had been at the first register. He opened the automatic doors by walking in front of them and then tried to shoo the bird out the door. Unfortunately, the doors closed before the bird got near them or once was just about to go out when the door closed, causing the bird to panic even more and fly further away (but still within the foyer). The female clerk tried to tell the man that they should somehow get the doors to stay open. He continued to use his method of walking in front of the door and shooing the bird. The female made her suggestion three times. Finally, she got a cart and put it between both sets of sliding, automatic doors. The doors stayed open and the bird flew out. Watching this scene unfold and having the time to process it on multiple levels here are some of my “take-aways”. Sometimes - like the bird - we wander into situations where we feel trapped and can’t get out regardless of how hard we try on our own and need others to assist us. Sometimes - like the man and woman - we need to step up and help those that are in need. Although best intentions are nice, they may not be as useful in helping as intended. Think clearly about how you can help in various situations without making the situation worse. And finally, I hear this so many times from my female friends/colleagues and have witnessed it firsthand in absolute confusion. It is beyond time that we (men) stopped negating or ignoring the gifts and voices of women. In the above story, the second time the woman said it, I said under my breath “he should listen to her…she’s right.” When he still didn’t listen and she said it the third time, I began shaking my head. Thankfully, she just went and did it. What’s sad about this is that within the hour of this happening a female friend texted me about a stress dream she’d just had about no one listening to her and said, “story of my life.” To all the women in my life and to my female colleagues - you will ALWAYS have a listening ear from me and we will work on whatever needs to be worked on together as equal partners.
Before coming on this journey and taking this time of Sabbatical, one of my members challenged me with what I was doing. The member couldn’t understand how my theme: Breaking Bread with our Ancestors: our connection to food, faith, family, was in the least bit related to my job at church. The member wondered why I wasn’t going to spend more time on retreat, in prayer, going to some monastery and spending my time in seclusion or something like that. I appreciated the comment and challenge but don’t always know how to respond immediately until I have time to think about it and process it.
A lot of time I just instinctively know what I need and what is best. A time of Sabbatical is to renew your passion and time in ministry, to take a deeper step into what “brings you joy and makes your heart sing” which is the way a grant application put it.
I’ve laid out my Sabbatical pretty clearly and I’m extremely excited about the way it is shaping out, what I’m reading and studying, doing and experiencing. Certainly, I could have done all of that at home without physically traveling thousands of miles away. But then there were these signs at St Mary’s Church…
I have dedicated my life to this work of being a minister, of leading others to a deeper commitment of the faith, of desiring those who question the mystery of God to grasp some new understanding. Prior to this time away, looking at it in a practical manner, I was beginning to be distressed that I still had another 10 years in ministry before retirement. Yes, I know that this pandemic was rough on everyone. But, I’ve not admitted the deep depression that it created in me. I was ready to be done. The abandoned/ruined Abbey and the growing flowers have become a metaphor for me. The Church (with a capital C) has been through difficulties in the past. There have been times in Church history where the message of the gospel has been all but obliterated from the daily life of the people. We are in one of those times. It can get depressing, but there is still work to do. I’m looking at my own ministry as less like an abandoned/ruined Abbey before my Sabbatical and now more like the determination it requires to be a flower growing out of the wall.
No comments:
Post a Comment