Today was the day before our last day with Mary.
What a fine journey it has been.
We are better by way of you, Mary, and by way of the Valley.
Today is the day, as we look at the website of the National Hurricane Center that Isaac continues.
May you, dear ones of Sarasota, know safety in these winds and rains.
May there be none who are injured.
May your homes be strong.
And may you know the hospitality and community of Andrew through it all.
Mary taught us more about the Celtic way of blessing today. Blessings are a way of saying, “may (your hope for your self or others) be upon you.” She said that is different in that in America we say, “I have depression.” Which is sort of like saying, “This is mine, it belongs to me.” “In Irish, we say, “depression has come upon me.” That is, “it is not mine, it has come upon me, and as it came, so also may it lift from me.”
Blessings are an offering of grace and goodness and hope and vibrancy and beauty and joy and healing and . . . for yourself or another or for us all. Mary invited Patricia and me to write a blessing today. These are the blessings we wrote. They may be spoken as asking for the blessing on yourself, on another, on all of us.
May you see the light that shines in you.
May you know that you are loved.
May you share your love with all you know.
May you carry this knowledge through your whole life.
May Bridget’s strength be yours to share.
May your strength be one that holds the contradictions with grace.
May your life be authentic.
May you not journey alone.
May the angels and saints show you safe harbor.
May your life’s journey find you in the place you were meant to be
May God hold you in the palm of her hand.
May sound sung and played and danced be upon me, upon you, upon us.
May the music of the trees, the river, the meadow be in me.
May the songs of the land and water, tears and laughter, birds and sheep, hearth and healing be around me.
May the ballads of Kevin and Brigit and Brendan and Patrick Kavanaugh be beneath me.
May the haunting melodies of Ireland invite me to wonder and then to wander in that wonder.
May the music to which the mists dance draw me on and on and on.
May the sound of the shoes of traditional Irish dancers keep me grounded in the canal and street and byway and bog and story and poem.
May the beat of Raglan Road open my eyes and ears and heart and hands to this time of new beginning for Patricia, for me, for our love, and for all of you.
May sound sung, played, and danced be upon me, upon you, upon us.