The Service of Light

Five weeks from today I will lock the door of my Galway apartment for the last time.  After saying a fond farewell to the docks, the marina, the harbor and the bay, I will climb aboard a bus bound for Dublin.  The next day I will leave Ireland and, late that night, I will be home in Lincoln, Nebraska. 

These next five weeks will be quite full and I am sure they will pass quickly.  Week four, my Aunt Shirley and my cousin, Denise, arrive in Ireland for a visit and week five I address all departure details (e.g. closing my bank account and donating my household items). 

I have three weeks left to work on my sabbatical project.  My goal is to finish a draft of my book along with one rigorous self-edit.  I can do it.  As I approach this goal I am both excited and weary.  It’s been a long journey. 

For those of you who might not know, I am writing about Roman Catholic Church reform in the diocese of Lincoln, Nebraska.  I focus on two organizations, Catholics for Active Liturgical Life and Call To Action Nebraska.  In 1996 the bishop of Lincoln, Fabian Bruskewitz, excommunicated the members of twelve different organizations, including Call To Action and Call To Action Nebraska.  I am a member of both.  If I lived any place else in the world beside the diocese of Lincoln, I would be a member of the church in good standing.  Though I choose not to recognize the excommunication as valid, it has impacted my life. 

Yesterday, Holy Saturday, I finished going through the last of four binders of documentary data.  I wrote about a number of things, including the fact that in October 2009, I received a letter from my pastor in Lincoln who told me that he was removing me from parish membership because of my involvement in Call To Action.  He asked me to meet with him.  I did.  At that meeting he told me he was instructed by the bishop to deny me communion.  This is not an easy thing to have happen and it wasn’t an easy thing to write about. 

I went to my favorite liturgy of the year, the Easter Vigil, last night, with that event on my mind.  I arrived early and was pleased to see that my favorite spot was unoccupied.  Just as I started to sit down, Fr. Dick said from across the church, “Oh, Rachel.  Come here.”  He asked a young woman, Ella, and me to participate in the liturgy by carrying lanterns during the part of the liturgy called the Service of Light.  We processed, carrying lit lanterns, to the altar from opposite sides of the church where two other people dressed the altar.  We then processed outside where Fr. Dick lit the Easter fire, blessed it and lit the Easter candle.

After spending the day thinking about getting, quite literally, expelled from the church in Lincoln, this small event held great significance to me.  It felt wonderful to be counted on to help out when a need arose.  Fr. Dick knows about my situation and that didn’t stop him from including me. 

The Service of the Light, it seems, did me a service as well. 

So high were my Easter spirits that I returned to St. Augustine’s for the 11:00 AM mass today.  The church smelled like fresh flowers and the choir was in fine form. 

After mass and the post-mass coffee/tea/biscuit/conversation gathering (at which I told Fr. Dick what I wrote about above), I had a lovely lunch at a Thai restaurant near my apartment.  I then went for a stroll in the sunshine. 

                        Accept this Easter candle,

                        a flame divided but undimmed,

                        a pillar of fire that glows to the honor of God.

                        Let it mingle with the lights of heaven

                        and continue bravely burning

                        to dispel the darkness of this night!

                                                -From the Exsultet, chanted at the Easter Vigil

Easter flowers from Mom and Dad

Babies!

                        Health and a long life to you.

                        Land without rent to you.

                        A child every year to you.

                        And if you can’t go to heaven,

                        May you at least die in Ireland.

                                                            -An Irish Blessing

I have been taken with the children of Ireland since soon after my arrival.  First, I find them remarkably hale and hearty and, with the exception of (perhaps universal?) occasional bad grocery store behavior, genial.  Second, there seems to be an abundance of children and pregnant women.

I wondered if there are more children in Ireland or if I was just more likely to see children here than at home.  In Ireland I walk in the park and through the city center and to the grocery store and post office, etc.  In the U.S., I walk on my treadmill and drive around in my car.  I don’t pay a lot of attention to who is in the cars around me.  For all I know, they are bursting with babies and children. 

As it turns out, I really am seeing a lot of children.  Ireland’s birth rate (16.8 per 1000) is the highest in the European Union (average of 10.7 per 1000).  In contrast, the 2009 U.S. birth rate (13.5 per 1000) fell to its lowest level in a century.

Recently I saw a report that stated that in 2008, 73,996 babies were born in Ireland.  This is the largest number in one year since 1980.  The report speculated that the baby boom might be due to the good economic times Ireland recently experienced.  Perhaps couples put off having their first child while they became established in their careers.  The most popular age for women giving birth in 2008 fell between 30 and 34 (up from the late 20s and early 30s).

Perhaps the recession will impact the number of children born in the near future.  The high birth rate will certainly impact the economy during what is already a difficult time; it will strain childcare, education and health services. Ireland has the largest number of people leaving the country in the European Union (9 per 1000).  Lithuania has the second highest outflow and their number is just under half of Ireland’s.

Now that the days are longer and the weather has taken a turn for the lovely, I expect to see even more young children out and about in the parks and on the street and, God help their parents, in the grocery store.  

Sunset Sitting Sated on the Seine

                                I never knew the charm of spring

                    I never met it face to face

                    I never knew my heart could sing

                    I never missed a warm embrace

                    Till April in Paris

                    Whom can I run to

                    What have you done to my heart

                                -“April in Paris” by Vernon Duke and E.Y. Harburg

Memorabilia

When I first planned my sabbatical in Ireland, I imagined I might take several short trips to other parts of Europe.  Though the flights are significantly less expensive from here, my cost of living has been quite high, so I had accepted that I would have a year without much travel.  However, when Carol McShane emailed and told me that she and her husband, Jim, would spend a month in Paris and invited me to visit, I was pleased to accept their kind offer.  I traveled to Paris during the time one of their seven children, Anne, visited.  

Jim, Carol and Anne McShane on Monet's bridge at Giverny

I had never been to Paris.  The two biggest proponents of this trip were Kevin and my mom.  Both had been to Paris and both declared that I would love the city.  They were right.  Yesterday when I called my parents to let them know I had arrived home safely in Galway, my mom asked, “What did you like best about Paris?”  I responded, “There is something in the air.”  I suppose I now better understand the French phrase, “Je ne sais quoi."  The phrase means, “I don’t know what,” but the phrase carries much connotative weight.  An online dictionary explains that the phrase refers to “an indefinable, elusive quality, especially a pleasing one.”  Yes.  That is Paris. 

Still, I can attempt to capture…

That first glimpse of the perennial symbol of Paris, the Eiffel Tower...

The expanse of the Seine...

The evening light as it illuminates the buildings...

The intricate iron grates and gates...

The meticulously cared for blooming flowers and trees...

Parc des Buttes-Chaumont, across the street from the McShane's apartment

The bustle of the street...

The expected and unexpected art...

Street art--mosaic

The diversity of people...

Wedding celebration outside the mayor's office in the 19th arrondissement

The smell of fresh baked bread and pastry emanating from the omnipresent boulangeries...   The feel of the pain au chocolat as it melts in my mouth…

Pastry with raisins

Before I arrived, Jim and Carol had mastered the Metro and the buses.  After her arrival, Anne discovered a website into which a person could enter a location and a destination and receive  public transportation directions.  One indicates if one prefers the route that is fastest, has the fewest changes or involves the least walking.  I had great fun riding buses and the Metro around the city. 

Jim, Carol and Anne McShane

Carol sent me excellent directions for getting from the airport to their rented apartment in the 19^th Arrondissement, or neighborhood.  On my walk from the Metro to their apartment, I passed a number of people carrying unwrapped baguettes and it made me smile. 

My first full day in Paris I took the elevator to the top of the Eiffel Tower and visited the Marmottan Museum which houses dozens of works by Claude Monet.  The museum was not crowded and I was able to fully enjoy the paintings.  That evening I had my first bowl of onion soup; it was rich and delicious. 

Outside the Museum

First stop on the way to the top

On Friday we visited Sainte Chapelle, Notre Dame, an outdoor flower market and a department store fashion show.  What struck me most about the fashion show was how well the women walked in their mile-high shoes. 

Sainte Chapelle

Notre Dame

Flower Market

Galeries Lafayette, department store with the fashion show

Saturday we ventured to Giverny, the home and garden of Claude Monet.  That day was the most beautiful of the whole trip, so it was the perfect day to wander about a garden.  The sun shone and the temperature hit the low 70s.  I hadn’t felt any outside temperature over 70 degrees since I left Nebraska last August.  The air hung with the scent of blooms.  The gardens were so beautiful I wondered if they might inspire even me to paint. 

Garden at Giverny

Gardens at Giverny

Gardens at Giverny

Jim and I attended mass at a church close to their apartment on Sunday morning.  Besides the common prayers, I had no idea what was being said, but it was fun to watch the multi-cultural crowd.  We all ate brunch at a restaurant in the park near the apartment that afternoon.  The brunch was amazing:  creamy scrambled eggs, smoked salmon, celery heart with sauce, croissant, fresh fruit, pane cotta, an almond bar and coffee.  I was struck by the presentation of the food—so beautiful!  That afternoon I ventured out by myself to Versailles. 

Brunch

Versailles

Versailles garden

Hall of Mirrors at Versailles

Gate at Versailles

Monday I fell in love with Sacre Coeur; I took one step inside the church and knew.  Sacre Coeur is beautiful and the messages in the statues, stained glass windows and mosaics were hopeful.  A light scent of incense hung in the air which felt comforting and familiar.  Later, Carol, Anne and I shopped for fabric and yarn in the Monmartre area, stopping for crepes for lunch.  Oh, the crepes!  We met up with Jim later for dinner at Le Procope which was founded in 1686.  After the crepes, I thought I would order something light.  After learning that coq au vin was chicken with wine, I decided that fit the bill.  I was oh-so-wrong.  My meal was extremely rich and delicious.  After dinner we strolled to the Seine, sat on a bench and watched the sun go down.  While sitting there we commented that we were “sitting, sated, on the Seine.”  We then took a nighttime cruise on the Seine.  Though it was chilly, we sat on top. 

Sacre Coeur

Name and address of the "crepe place" stamped on my hand by our waitperson

Buttons!

My six days in Paris were magical and there is so much I still have not done.  I have not visited the Louvre, the Musee d’Orsay, the Rodin Museum, the Champs Elysees…  And so I say to Paris, “Au revoir.”  Until next time…

Stairwell at the McShane's apartment

The Year's at the Spring

Flower Pots at NUI Galway

After nine weeks of quiet, winter routine, spring and Nebraska Wesleyan University students arrived in Galway. 

Laurel Butler, Mishayla Richardson and Heidi Dammast arrived in Dublin on Saturday, March 19.  They met Desirae TePoel at the airport.  Desirae is studying abroad in Spain this semester and she and some friends made the trip to Ireland for St. Patrick’s Day.  She separated from her group for one day and night to spend some time with us.  I met the four NWU students at the coach station in Galway where they arrived safely, though short Mishayla’s suitcase. 

Saturday night we ate dinner at one of my favorite restaurants in Galway, Il Folletto.  The choice of Italian felt right as Laural, Mishayla and Heidi had all taken my study abroad class in Florence, Italy in the summer of 2009.  Much to my chagrin, I retired before the travelers who really should have been asleep hours before me.

Sunday we walked and walked and walked and walked.  We started up the Corrib River to the Cathedral.  We then walked through the National University of Ireland Galway .  I told the students of a restaurant near the university called the Spud House where almost everything is served on a potato; it seemed an appropriate place for a meal in Ireland.  Unfortunately, the Spud House was closed.  We took a long walk into Salthill where we finally bought something to eat.  Renewed, we enjoyed the beautiful Salthill Promenade as we made our way back to my apartment along Galway Bay.   The day was quite sunny and reasonably warm.  Thankfully, Mishayla’s suitcase arrived that afternoon.  After dinner at the King’s Head, we went back to my apartment to gather up Desirae’s things and then we walked her to the coach station to say goodbye (sniff) for now. 

Mishayla, Heidi, Rachel, Desirae, Laurel

Rachel at one of the entrances to NUI Galway

Building at NUI Galway

Desirae, Laurel, Heidi, Mishayla, Rachel on the Salthill Promenade

My three remaining guests took a tour of Connemara on Monday, a trip to Inishmore on Tuesday and a tour to the Cliffs of Moher on Wednesday.  I worked on my book during the day and we all went to dinner when they returned.  Tuesday night we went to Monroe’s Pub for dinner and live traditional music and dancing.  We all loved it. 

Traditional Irish dancing at Monroe's Pub

Heidi, Rachel, Laurel, Mishayla at Monroe's

Heidi, Mishayla and Laurel are spending the last four nights of their trip in Dublin.  On the day they left Galway, we all ate blackberry pancakes at Ard Bia.  We also were able to do a little shopping in Galway. 

I so enjoyed having these students visit; they are terrific young women who brought a lot of energy with them.  We had many very interesting conversations.

My apartment is quiet again and I am returning, for now, to my routine.  Perhaps because I had grown used to people around, I found myself sending a few fairly lengthy and newsy emails on Friday morning. 

My routine is altering as spring makes itself more and more known in Galway.  I am anxious to spend time outside in the fresh air and I am walking later in the day. 

I leave for six days in Paris on Wednesday.  When I return, I begin the final push on my book.  My work is going well, but there is much left to do.  I anticipate that the Paris trip will renew and reinvigorate me. 

                        The year’s at the spring

                        And day’s at the morn;

                        Morning’s at seven;

                        The hillside’s dew-pearled;

                        The lark’s on the wing;

                        The snail’s on the thorn;

                        God’s in His heaven—

                        All’s right with the world!

                                                -Robert Browning

The Irish and Those Who Wish They Were

“St. Patrick’s Day is an enchanted time—a day to begin transforming

winter’s dreams into summer’s magic.”  -Adrienne Cook

A few people have told me over the years that they have heard that the Irish don’t make a very big deal out of St. Patrick’s Day.  Not true at all. 

St. Patrick’s Day is a national holiday.  Banks, schools and most businesses are closed. 

In Galway, the festivities began the night before.  I attended the first official event of St. Patrick’s Day—a multi-media presentation called “The Coming of Spring.”  A film and computer-generated video was projected onto a stone wall of the old Galway Museum. The creators took the texture and pattern of the wall into account.  There were a number of planned holes in the wall and they were used in the art; for example, at one point it looked like water was pouring from one of the holes.  The ten or twelve minute presentation was accompanied by live music.  The whole thing was very interesting and well done.  The crowd was appreciative. 

This is the wall used for the art installation

During the night I heard a number of people who enjoyed a few drinks or more as they made their way, loudly, past my building.

After a morning of working on my book, I ventured out at about noon.  The city felt different; the energy was high and there was light-heartedness in the air.  Mobs of people dressed in St. Patrick’s Day “finery” made their way through the town.  

The children, in particular, were adorable. 

The Galway parade, reputed to be among the best in Ireland, kicked off at 12:30.  I found a decent spot without too many people in front of me.  I had to hold my camera up to get some of the shots, but I also was able to see quite a bit. 

The parade was very festive.  The participants were young and old and they represented a great many interests, activities and groups.  The parade was also very multicultural and it felt like a celebration of many cultures. 

I walked around for a while after the parade and it was clear that the celebration was continuing.  I went home, but I did watch people from my window as they wandered the docks.  That night was surprisingly quiet.  Or, the earplugs I wore worked. 

I am so glad I had a chance to celebrate St. Patrick’s Day in Ireland.  I’m sure I will remember it every year. 

“May you live all the days of your life.” 

Jonathan Swift