words from wick

Ireland: Day 12

We woke to be reminded
We had not become divine
No matter how thin the Irish veil
We are branches, not the Vine

One more look at verdant shores
To breathe slow salty air
A morning tinged by packing up
And carefully prepare

Patience, joy, and peace abound
Where Spirit’s seed is growing
He is the living presence of
A faith beyond the knowing

Such fruit helps us greatly
When cramped in tight airplane
Or when even by family
Our ire may be enflamed

With hugs and blessing spoken
We said our last goodbyes
Then boarded fair Aer Lingus
As we leapt into the skies

We each have had experiences
Not expressed here in word
To think all could be captured
Would be a bit absurd

The Land of Saints and Scholars
Or in Latin, “Hibernia”
Has much to offer travelers
Yet is not a panacea

We’re thankful whether Ireland
Kentucky, or at home
The full presence of Love divine
And flourishing shalom

Is not something we only find
By traveling great lengths
But comes as we receive Him
And for that, we close with thanks.

We woke this morn before the dawn
To watch the sun emerge
God saw us gathering to observe
And decided to splurge

He used His total palette then
To draw our eyes in awe
Our photos cannot full contain
The beauty which we saw

A slow morning to all relax
Then Howth for fish and chips
Entertained there by harbor seal
Waving and doing back flips

Meandering the afternoon
We all felt strange sensation
Savoring each precious moment
Toward end of our vacation

The pulsing love of family
Beyond visiting friends
Thankful that beyond this trip
This warmth will never end

For just as Eire is nurtured
By her steady sun and rains
A fruitful family, rooted deep
In Jesus’ love, remains

We saunaed on the ocean
With a cold plunge there beside
Joined with many others near
Who’d come to greet the tide

Reluctantly to bed we went
Knowing our limitation
For tomorrow we would return
To our time zone and nation

Escaping early morning
While the fam enjoyed their slumber
We sought historic sanctuary
With only two in number

First it was at Christ Church
Where Vikings Christ adored
Now Strongbow here lies peacefully
As a proper English Lord

The crypt containing treasures
And mummified remains
(And also gift shop tchotchkes,
to the echoes of prayer refrains.)

Next, to old Whitefriar
We met Saint Valentine
Asking Jesus to bless our Love
With His own Love divine

For lunch, the house of Gallagher
For boxty, many ways
As Temple Bar was waking
From the drink of yesterdays

Then back to join as family
Where modern shops abound
To celebrate together
At all the deals we’d found

We smiled at Flying Tiger
And what else was euro trending
Then tasted Butler’s chocolate
Before our day was ending

(Here seems a good reminder
As each day to next flowed
Every time we drove somewhere
From wrong side of the road.)