MARCH ON MARCH!

 

It has been a year since we went into lockdown and what started as a very strange phenomenon in the beginning has become rather ‘normal’ to me. It is strange how we adapt. Of course I still think of the ‘good old days’ when we could just go gallivanting across continents and oceans. But being a homebody as well, I have no lack of wonderful things to do at home. Believe it or not, I go to bed at night excited about what I am going to do tomorrow! And I am happy that we travelled much when we could travel.

Now that the days are longer, there are so many fun things to do in the garden as well. While the outside weather may vary from rain to hailstones, the inside temperature of the green house and polytunnel remains rather constant and that is a real bonus. Extra touches like Peter Rabbit hoeing, koi fish flags flying and metal hens that lay eggs make everything very me.

So we have St Patrick’s Day just round the corner – March 17 to be exact. Just like last year, there are no parades or mass gatherings. For me, it will be just like any other day, but I will still put up the flag and highlight my hair green for the fun of it and probably give the stove a rest and get a takeaway in tricolour. When I first started gardening, the teacher said I should plant first earlies (potatoes) by 17 March. Obedient student that I am, I have done so and they have sprouted.

I enjoy reading myths and legends of the land, and we can learn a thing or two from St Patrick, the man himself.

1.     Forgiveness

Patrick was kidnapped at the age of 16 and forced to work as a slave in Ireland. Imagine the trauma and the terror and the continual attempts to escape. Escape he did and the strange thing is instead of harbouring anger and unforgiveness towards those who stole 6 years of his freedom, he chose to ‘come and walk among the Irish’. He wrote,

 

I saw a man coming, as it were from Ireland. His name was Victoricus, and he carried many letters, and he gave me one of them. I read the heading: “The Voice of the Irish”. As I began the letter, I imagined in that moment that I heard the voice of those very people who were near the wood of Foclut, which is beside the western sea—and they cried out, as with one voice: “We appeal to you, to come and walk among us.

Marianne Williamson says: Unforgiveness is like drinking poison yourself and waiting for the other person to die

 

2.     Stepping out

Patrick stepped out of his comfort zone. He could have chosen to remain in his safe and cozy home after his escape but he did not.  There is this innate fear or resistance to try new things. For as long as we are in lockdown, zoom is about the best gift ever for human interaction. Truth be told I never liked it initially, much less host a session. By now I’m virtually travelling across counties and countries via Zoom or Teams App and attending Spring classes or talks:– Craft  (Tipp and Galway) Dance (Kerry) Religion (Limerick) and Archaeology (Middle East)

3.     Team work makes the dream work

Patrick couldn’t have done it without his core group or supporters. He would have given up, burnt out even. Many establishments have collapsed and businesses have gone bankrupt during these times. In our home, Mike and I are a team – united in common interests, understanding and remembering that we are both human, warts and all. Communication is key because things unsaid and issues that are unresolved will never go away. And we are both unfinished canvasses and that’s wonderful as well because there is so much to learn and appreciate.

4.     It costs little to care

St Patrick was also a shepherd to the flock in Ireland, which grew exponentially in his lifetime and beyond. He was an evangelist, a missionary, and a pastor. For me at this time especially a phone call, a card, a present, a text or a prayer makes all the difference to a stranger, an acquaintance, a friend or a family member.

May the Strength of God guide us.
May the Power of God preserve us.
May the Wisdom of God instruct us.
May the Hand of God protect us.
May the Way of God direct us.
May the Shield of God defend us.
May the Angels of God guard us.
Against the snares of the evil one.

-        St Patrick, 433CE

 

TELL YOUR HEART TO BEAT AGAIN

I had a big cactus plant that I grew from a pup. It required very little care, just sunshine and a bit of water now and again. It was healthy and sturdy and it sat nicely on the shelf until I accidentally knocked it one day and it fell. Seeing no harm done, I put it back into the pot and didn't pay much attention to it.

Days passed and I noticed that something was wrong with it. It was literally shrinking before my eyes.

I did an internet search to find out the possible reasons for this malady and I learnt, a tad to late, how to nurture a fallen cactus to full health. Seemingly you will need to examine the wound, excise the rot and apply sulphur powder which is a natural fungicide to the wound.

I took the cactus out of the pot to inspect it and noticed that by then the rot had become so bad, it had given up the ghost.

What had just happened? A fine stately specimen had been reduced to sad pulp, only fit for the compost heap.

There is so much similarity between this wounded thorny object and a human heart.

I was listening to the song 'Tell your heart to beat again' by Danny Gokey and found out the story that inspired the song.

The story goes that a heart surgeon in Ohio once removed a patient's heart to repair it. It was a successful operation but ironically the heart wouldn't beat. Before giving up altogether, the surgeon knelt down beside the unconscious patient and spoke to her:

“Mrs. Johnson, this is your doctor. We have fixed your heart—we have repaired it. There’s nothing wrong with your heart. Mrs. Johnson, if you can hear me, I need you to tell your heart to beat again.”

I can't help thinking of the cactus where the insides were so messed up,  it was beyond living. But if I had intervened earlier, it could have lived.

How many times have we let disease and bad experiences and hurtful memories eat into our insides?

We don't realise that over the years, if not dealt with, the decay gets worse. 

We think that if we don't remember them, they won't affect us. We think that if we avoid dealing with them, we will escape the consequences. It only takes an incident, a song, a word, a deed, even something that happens to someone else - to trigger the pain - and all those memories will crash upon us, just as if they happened yesterday. Very vivid with all the details we thought we had forgotten. Sometimes we don't even realise that they have been there still, after all these years.

Dawna Hetzler the author of 'Walls of a Warrior' says, ' We have to be intentional and want restoration. Begin the journey of forgiveness, prepare to love again, slow yet steady. Believe again. Sing a new song.'

And Mrs. Johnson had to tell her heart to beat again.

She lives still.