A man whose mother and father had married in Ireland during the great war moved to the United States of America. There they lived, prospered and had a two sons and a daughter, who many years later now grown from children into adults to have children of their own, scattered among the states, rarely to visit, keeping in regular communication, but far distant from their mother and father, as each other.
One by one members of the family died, including spouses and children until only one remained, whose dream was to return to Ireland one day to visit the place of his mothers and fathers birth.
At the age of fifty six, hardly an age to travel a great distance and then traverse Ireland on foot, he began none the less with no trepidation, knowing that strength would be gained from the soft sea breeze's and ancient landscapes which had been told of in both song and story by his mother and father.
Upon arriving in Ireland he immediately set on foot toward the church where his mother and father had been married only to find that in its place was a “flower of Ireland.” There were no traces of the old church, not even a nail or shingle. Now very tired from the journey and searching for clues about the fate of the church, he opened his nap sack, spread out a table cloth and set a modest meal of cheese and rye bread. Oh yes, a tankard of ale too and then with a full stomach, the kiss of the ocean bound winds and gentle swaying of hemlock, fell fast asleep.
Our traveler awoke a few hours later, sensing a presence but no one was in sight, so he folded the table cloth and it was placed back into his nap sack along with the empty tankard to continue his journey to his uncles home which was but a half day distance, wondering if there he would find an answer as to what happened to the church and what was the significance of the “flower of Ireland” in the place where the church once stood.
Arriving at his uncles home, our traveler gently knocked and was bade to enter and he found a young priest eating supper with his uncle, where in he was asked to join them. Soon a discussion started as to the fate of the church and the young priest said he knew what had happened as did his uncle, but no information was offered, until the next day when all had awaken and the sat for the morning meal, with heads bowed, the young priest said Grace Before Meals and then offered the explanation as to the fate of the church.
Long after your mother and father had married in the church, the parish began a gradual decline as young people moved elsewhere and only the older members like your uncle were left to attend daily mass. It became customary for those of us entering the priesthood and studying at the Abby to take our final vows in the church until one year while taking the Holy Communion, the Host fell from the lips of a priest on to the floor of the church. That church has fallen since, and no trace of it remains except the “flower of Ireland” that you saw yesterday and all who study at the Abby see on a regular basis.
As you could imagine, our traveler from America was saddened, until his uncle said.
“Nephew why not take a sprig from the flower and plant a church when you return to America.”
You and I would not have had an opportunity to see the fruits of Nephew's labor had he not returned to Ireland, nor would have the church of his mother and father flourished upon his return, either.
Footnote: This short story is based in part upon The Boy Who Became Pope, which is a folktale of Ireland. It is a humble attempt to let two dear friends who are Irish and of my Catholic Faith, know that their influence upon my life has been profound and pray fully lasting and will continue to grow.
First: Bernie Howe whom I have known since about 1998 and is preparing to take a trip to Ireland and visit many of the places which are recalled from stories and song of his mother and father.
Secondly: Reverend Monsignor Francis C. Murphy, St. Dominic Catholic Church, Mobile, Alabama who came from Ireland as a young lad and most recently celebrated his 60th year of priesthood in 2006. A friend, mentor and one in whom grace resides.
Copyright: 1986-2010