More hareing about in Dublin

Here I am in the Natural History museum!

Best...breakfast...ever!

We made it here at last, after being chucked out by the parkie yesterday at closing time, 30 seconds after we arrived. It's the playground in St Stephen's Green, and we had it to ourselves this morning!

Dublin

Today we were on the tourist trail in Dublin. Onto a red sightseeing bus and off round town we went. Here are some grainy phone photos from the Royal Hospital/Museum of Modern Art in Kilmainham, which has some beautiful, tranquil gardens. We had them to ourselves for a reason we discovered a little later...

It is marvellous to get away. I think Lee is frustrated we're not doing more, seeing more, but the lads are enjoying their simple little kinder-things: cuddly toys hiding in their suitcases, bouncing around in the 'otel, playgrounds. You can keep your Caravaggio's (we saw the (breath-) Taking of Christ in the National Gallery as well as Zurbarán's childlike Virgin Mary) and your gracious Georgian architecture, give us €3 yoyos and pressing lift buttons anyday.

Big Hare!

Mission accomplished. Toot asleep in buggy. Inside we go. Crotchety toddlers and museums don't mix, do they? But aaah, we needn't have worried. The museum was closed due to renovations.

We still enjoyed the outdoor exhibits though, such as the 'boulders' above and 'Back of Snowman', as well as seeing a dog being trained to jump over its owners arm (!) amidst an installation of snowdrops arranged in a long strip down the hill.

I was just thinking today how empty my life would be if I didn't believe in God. It's not the first time I've thought that of course, but it really hit me this evening as I read more of Fr Benedict J Groeschel's wonderful book The Saints in My Life. I am coming to the end of it, but don't want it to end, which is always a good sign of a book, I think! I had been savouring a little of it each night as I shared some special quiet time with the baby Toot, which itself has recently come to an end. Seventeen months wasn't bad, I suppose, but it's always difficult to let the closeness of breastfeeding go.

Anyway, the book reminded me of the immense richness of our Roman Catholic faith and conversely the emptiness that a lack of belief in God would bring to one's life.

If there were no God, no life after death, no heaven, then, to take just one example, that would mean no saints. No friends or advocates to help us here on earth, intercede for us, lead us closer to God, help us get to heaven.

When I talk about saints, I don't just mean Saints, the capital letter people whose feasts we celebrate throughout the year. I mean people that you and I have known or met in our own lives, who now enjoy being in the presence of God. People like the fella in the photo, Fr Timmy Walsh, the wonderful Augustinian priest we knew and loved in Fethard. He popped into my head recently on the feast of St Timothy. I was feeling troubled and imagined I was talking to him, asking his advice. Truthfully, I felt like I was actually talking to him and his reply comforted and helped me, just as he would have while he was alive. Of course, now that he is in heaven, he can do even more to help people.

Someone I plan to get to know a bit better...

today is the feast day of St Ita, who established a community not far from where we lived. More to follow....

In the midst of a grotty, mess-filled house, with visitors on the way and frustration giving way to panic, I came across these guys. Can you see? Roo has put a little blanket on the donkey's back, unbeknownst to me.
I'm trying very hard to keep focussed on the really important thing. This little action has helped for this particular moment.

don't you just love it?

as mentioned in my previous post.... the amazing, the incredible, the fantastic inflatable Nativity scene! Lee thinks it is really tasteless, but it made me and the lads laugh, especially Toot, who was in fits of giggles as Poonch repeatedly knocked the sheep over. Roo is just out of shot, patting one of the Three Kings, possibly because that was the part he played in the school Nativity play this year.

A little glimpse...

into the stable.  Every year the village of Adare recreates a live Crib with real people and real animals. 
Last year we planned to take part, but the weather meant that it was cancelled.  This year it went ahead and we enjoyed pretending we were in Bethlehem. On the way there we saw an amazing inflatable Nativity!

Really struggling to keep this in mind...

Pondering the most important things !

...and finding it hard to believe that this time last year, the tree was decorated, the house was tidy with food for our guests and I had a 4 month old baby to tend to.

Happy Baptism anniversary, little Toot!

Feeling just a bit overwhelmed this year with everything that still needs to be done.

A Helping Hand on Tuesday

As my little crochet hook twirled and looped this morning in my fabulous class at Lena's, I was a bit ashamed of the state of my hands.
Freezing rain and biting winds have conspired with frequent handwashing in the most limescale-ridden water known to man to make them look and feel like those of a Victorian washerwoman. Or perhaps those of St Martha looked similar too?
In any case, I have promised my lámha a dollop of handcream whenever they get wet from now on.
Thank you Lee for minding the bookles. x

St Nicholas Tuesday

Another busy Tuesday worthy of the Biblical Martha today. As you can see our little candle has the delightful company of some Playmobil people this evening.
We have been celebrating the feast of the real Santa Claus since early this morning when we discovered mince pie crumbs, new slippers and chocolate in the living room. Of course the lads are only too pleased to honour such a generous saint but I was a bit worried as to how Roo's classmates would respond to his visiting our house so 'early'. Sometimes homeschooling really appeals to me... But I don't think he had too much explaining to do.
By the way, the Irish for Santa/ St Nicholas is San Nioclás which sounds like san nee claws, so it's easy to see how the 3rd century Bishop of Myra's name evolved over time although how he ended up in the North Pole and acquired a Mrs Claus is a bit harder to explain!

Novena prayer

Here is the Christmas novena prayer:

Hail and blessed be the hour and the moment

in which the Son of God

was born of the most pure Virgin Mary,

at midnight, in Bethlehem, in piercing cold.

In that hour, vouchsafe, O my God!

to hear my prayer and grant my desires,

through the merits of Our Saviour Jesus Christ,

and of His Blessed Mother.

Amen.

Christmas Novena reminder for me and you!

Mum just phoned to remind me about St Andrew's Day and the beginning of the Christmas Novena. Funny, I was just looking for the post I wrote about it two years ago when she rang.

Praying the beautiful prayer fifteen times a day between now and Christmas helps to re-focus your mind on what this time of year is really about. It's easy to get stressed around now and for example, our trip to Tesco this morning was a more crowded one than usual. The lads were very well-behaved and certainly earned their big generous slice of cake from Pauline, braving the cold with her yummy creations in the market outside.

Martha Tuesday

Just coming to the end of another busy Tuesday here. It only occurred to me today that it is appropriate for me that Tuesday is the day earmarked for the novena to St Martha, because they have been very full and hectic the last couple of weeks and Martha is remembered for being that wan in da Bible who was really consumed with her domestic tasks, so much so that she neglected to spend time listening to Jesus.

The Novena prayer and the little candle that I light reminds me to pray. It can be so easy to lose sight of what is really important, especially at this time of year.

Here is the prayer in case you'd like to join in:

I ask you St Martha, by your intercession to help me in overcoming my difficulties and to teach me to become great in the Kingdom of Heaven by becoming as humble as you in this world.

O St Martha, I resort to you and to your petition and faith.

I offer up to you this light which I shall burn every Tuesday for nine Tuesdays.

Comfort me in all my difficulties through the great favour you enjoyed when our Saviour lodged in your house.

I beseech you to have definite pity in regard to the favour I ask (mention it).

Intercede for my family that we may always be provided for in all our necessities.

I ask you St Martha to overcome the dragon which you cast at your feet.

Say one Our Father and three Hail Marys and light a candle every Tuesday (and tell other people about it;)

This post from Maria Stops Abortion sums up exactly how I felt when I read about the 'tragic' abortion 'mix-up' in Australia. There's no doubt there is a huge tragedy here. The parents and clinicians involved are suffering greatly and need lots of support and prayers. But how messed-up (actually feel like using a much stronger description) is our society that the media fails to see how aborting the so-called 'sick' child would be just as much a tragedy? And what about the 'healthy' children that are aborted deliberately every day? Presumably their deaths wouldn't be considered tragic by the media either? The fact is, abortion is always a tragedy, whether intentional or not.

I don't normally blog about these things, I try to keep things positive and avoid posting when I am angry or sad. I know though that we need to speak up about these things. And this evening I was so stunned by the way this was reported and the language used I couldn't contain it.