I’m on a reading spree at the moment: devotions, leadership, history, personal development, science, fiction, the Good Book- it feels good to be back. College did well to kill the love of reading that childhood did well to nurture. Continue reading
When the extension lead burnt out this morning so did something inside me.
Within five minutes I knew that the world could be made right again as long as I made sure that the water boiler for the tea wasn’t plugged into the same socket as the sound system next time, as long as I told each person how to hold the microphone correctly so that it wouldn’t make funny noises again, as long as I made sure that the contrast between the font and the background on the PowerPoint was high enough to read on the little projector screen, as long as each person knew exactly what to do and when, and we finished when we said we would, and nobody interrupted at any point to share some love or encouragement for the long, weary hours between now and next week.
“When everything lives up to my expectations all will be right with the world again”, I reasoned. (or at least right with my little part of the world) Continue reading
It’s the one thing I miss when I’m away from Ireland. As much as I love the sunshiny heat that soaks into your bones overseas, when I come home I can’t wait for the rain. Continue reading
Tonight one neuron collided with another in my brain opening up a couple of old wounds plus one or two new ones all clamouring for attention. Thankful for an empty house, I put my current favourite lament song on repeat and took some time to grieve.
As a Mercy-oriented person, worship is one place where I am free to fully unpack all of the feelings I haven’t had time to deal with and bring them to my Father in their raw, unfiltered glory. In coming undone before Him, He somehow brings all the pieces together to form a new composition.
I wonder why modern worship music shies away from laments. Continue reading
I am no coffee snob. I don’t turn my nose up at instant coffee. Arguments over Starbucks versus Costa versus hipster little one-off shops are lost on me. Don’t get me wrong- I like a gorgeous freshly-ground coffee but more than that I love a good story.
It is the story of my friend sourcing farmers in her homeland to import coffee to London and start her own cafe in Fulham that inspires me to support her venture.
It is the story of a similar project in Ethiopia that produces 500g bags of coffee (beans/ground) for €20 here- with €16 of that €20 staying in Ethiopia- that intrigues me (my brother’s friend bought a bag for each of his family members for Christmas this year).
It is the friendships I get to build with the staff of the coffee shop around the corner from our church that sees me ordering there early on a Sunday morning.
Today, I got to be part of another story when my Mum brought me to 115 Georges Street Lower, Dun Laoghaire. Continue reading
Last night I hung on live news reports about a truck driving into a Christmas market in Berlin and waited for my Berlin friends to mark themselves as “safe” on Facebook. Today, even with assurances of my friends’ well-being, I went grocery shopping but forgot to take my wallet with me. Continue reading
You explode with questions,
Spitting and swarming,
But answers don’t soothe,
Don’t touch the depths.
They make them sting,
Salt on skin torn straight
Through to shredded heart:
My darling, you’re bleeding out,
I can see.
I can see. You look at me,
Me, the face of all that’s wrong. Continue reading