Monday, December 1, 2014

Irish Letter B

My husband and I took a trip to Ireland in September. I got very sick on the return trip and have been laid up, but I decided to try and participate in Alphabe-Thursday this round with my own little tales of Ireland.

This Letter B is also the second part of Letter A.   It just happened that way and it's not really going to be a continuing story but more of an exercise to write about the experience.

If you want to read the letter A first, you can find it here.



Be still and know…

 
That I am God?

 
That this is a moment out of time?

 
That this time and place and will never happen again?

 
Or perhaps it was all of the above.

 
We drove across a narrow, ancient stone bridge.

 
Around a bend in a road hedged with ferns and fuschia. 

 
And attempted to pull into the parking lot of the tiny, ancient stone church nestled into the small glen of verdant greenery that was the rural Irish countryside.

 
Mr. Jenny was driving.

 
On the ‘wrong’ side of the road.  Our middle Grandlittle was sitting white-knuckled in the back seat of our rented van.
 
We took no pictures that evening.   This is just another picture of Mr. Jenny and our middle Grandlittle.

 
The parking lot was crammed.

 
Light spilled from the open arched doorway of the old church illuminating a group of gathered Irish churchgoers.

 
Mr. Jenny was not being reverent.  A few heathen words escaped his lips as he attempted to back into a tight parking spot.   Middle Grandlittle and I giggled.   And offered advice.  Neither of which was well received.  If laughter and back-slapping was any indication, the little crowd of watchers greatly enjoyed watching his attempts much more than we did.

 
Finally, muttering about steering wheels in the wrong place and backseat drivers,  Mr. Jenny turned off the engine and glanced up to see his audience.

 
He was not amused.

 
His crankiness soon went away when we were greeted with open arms, literally, by our new friend, Anne.  We hugged and smiled and hugged and smiled and she said something lovely and musical like, ” ‘Tis happy I am to see you and your lovely wee Grandchild.  I’ve saved a place for you all.”

 

She escorted us into the little stone church and up the center aisle.  Each dark oak gated pew was crowded with families and candle light flickered across the altar adorned with musicians as well as hydrangea and boxwood bouquets.    
 

She led us to the second from the front pew and opened the little gate to allow us in.

 
A woman in her 40’s and a thin, dark young man in his early 20’s were already seated.  They stood and let us by and we shuffled in…Mr. Jenny sat closest to the wall and our Grandlittle was sandwiched between us.

 
The surface of the pew was piled high with pillows and we weren’t sure what to do with them.   I asked the woman next to me and she laughed and said to put as many as we wanted beneath our bottoms for comfort.  Our Grandlittle was delighted with that reponse.

 
My fellow pillowed-pew sharer and I struck up a lively, whispered conversation as the musicians tuned up.

 
To be candid I could hardly understand her and I suspect it was mutual.   Amidst much laughing, though, I discovered it was her son seated by her…he was incredibly nervous because he was playing the organ during the program…and that she was terribly proud of him for winning some kind of country wide organ contest.  She had just begun whispering questions about America when Anne stepped to the front of the little church.

 
She offered a warm and lovely welcome to the gathering.

 
Our Granddaughter held tightly to both of our hands and then angels came to let their voices dance to the rafters of the church.

 
Oh.
 

Oh.

 
It was beyond beautiful.

 
There were two harps.  There was a violin.   There was a penny whistle.  There was a guitar and another instrument I’ve never seen before.
 

There were beautiful harmonious voices woven together in folk songs and in hymns.

 
There was a charming little boy who walked solemnly to the front and played a violin.

 
His little brother came after and played the trumpet.  His cowlick trembled with his efforts.

 
We tapped our toes.

 
Our eyes filled with tears.

 
I squeezed my Grandlittles warm hand and the woman next to me held mine.

 

“Be still, Jenny,” I told myself.   “Remember these beautiful moments.”

 

I think I actually held my breath trying to remember.

 
After an hour or so of music, Anne once again stood in the front of the church.

 
“This is intermission.   Please join us in the hall for refreshments.”

 
She smiled broadly at us and made a motion toward the rear door.   We stood and prepared to join our fellow music lovers.
 
 
This little part of our Irish travel story is linked to the letter B.   B is for Be Still.   To read other B offerings, just click here.

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16 comments:

Nezzy (Cow Patty Surprise) said...

Oh sweet Jenny, what a wonderfully beautifully told story...made my heart sing!!!

Special delivery to Miss Angel was hand delivered by yours truly. Many, many thank yous to you precious friend of mine!

Hope your Thanksgiving was extra special packed full of heartfelt blessings. :o)

Betty said...

I love the way you tell a story. I feel like I'm there with you while I'm reading and painting pictures in my mind. I know I would enjoy visiting a quaint little church too. Can't say I blame Mr. Jenny. I'd be a little nervous driving on the wrong side of the road too.

I hope things are going well. I've been thinking a lot about you.

"Alone again.... naturally!" said...

Other than I don't know why I am sniffling at this post, like the last post...something about it is striking a chord with me, but it also reminds me of our trip to Scotland and my hubby driving on the wrong side of the road...just a little hair-raising for sure. "Be" well Jenny!

fredamans said...

Sounds like a moment to remember for sure! I got choked up myself reading your vignette.

Heather{Our Life In a Click} said...

Beautiful B story! Feel better!!

Brona Joy said...

Oh that is the loveliest thing I've read for quite some time.

Thank you Jenny for sharing this special moment in such an inspired way. I felt like I was sitting there with you on comfy cushions, holding hands :-)

Birgit said...

Hi Jenny,

I hope your trip to Ireland was lovely -- and be sure to get well soon!

Hugs,
Birgit

Theresa said...

Beautiful and memorable! Love hearing all of the different instruments! Hope you are feeling better with each passing day! Sending HUGS and PRAYERS your way!

emiliopasquale said...

So beautifully written it seems as if it is one of my own memories. I feel I am there. Was there!

The Quintessential Magpie said...

Jenny, I am so very, very happy and thrilled that you got to spend time with your grands in Ireland! That makes me happier than I can say. :-)

I pray that you will soon be feeling much better. I am finally up after two months and am back in the land of the living. THankfully, I got to go to my niece's wedding which I was not sure I would make. It was lovely.

Sending you warm hugs across the miles. This was just beautiful. Made me cry... in a good way!

XO,

Sheila

Esther Joy said...

That sounds like a lovely time! I loved how your "grandlittle" was included in everything, and you made me smile when you talked about trying to be still. I have a very hard time being still when there is music.

Rita said...

OMG! This was lovely! I felt like I was there with you in spirit and overwhelmed by the beauty. :) :)

Susan Anderson said...

Oh, Jenny. This sounds beyond lovely.

=)

Pat Tillett said...

You witnessed something magical and beautiful. Those things don't happen often and can be emotional. Your description and words were so good, that I felt like I was sitting there.

EG CameraGirl said...

Sounds like an absolutely delightful evening. Anne is a treasure. How wonderful you included your granddaughter in this marvelous adventure!

Annesphamily said...

Beautiful, since losing my job in November I am so overcome with emotion. I close my eyes and I can see the story in my mind. Thank you for sharing.