 Roger and Me at Cliffs of Moher An Introduction to The Pebble In the Pond Tour Summary Well, it has taken some time but I have finally written blog posts for the trip to Ireland. It would have been too long to keep it to one post so I have divided it into five parts. You are reading number 1 of 5. You can click on the following links individually if you would like to get to a particular story which grabs your attention first. Part 1 of 5 An Introduction Click here for: Part 2 of 5 Starting With A Hot Topic Ready For Take Off Driving In a Foreign Country - The True Test of A Good Marriage Click here for: Part 3 of 5 All Hallows College Holy Family, Aughrim Street Parish - Where It All Started Click here for: Part 4 of 5 Ancient History - Modern Day Appreciation Finding Family at the Cliffs of Moher Searching for Philomena Click here for: Part 5 of 5 Our Return to Dublin Miracles and Hope I wanted to keep the stories short so as not to overwhelm. There are lot's of pictures which help to tell the stories. This record is not complete. There is no way I could ever share every detail. I tried to keep it to the really significant stuff. I hope you enjoy! Julie To be continued... Click here for next blog post! Part 2 of 5 - The Pebble In The Pond Tour  Flowers on a Hillside on the Island of Cobh
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 May we be like pebbles in the pond of life wherever we go and may ripples of faith go out wherever we land.  Starting with a Hot Topic I could tell by the look on his face, the clerk thought I’d walked in to the wrong place to shop. I’d never been in a Hot Topic store before. I guess it showed. It’s the kind of place where young people shop; young people who like grungy, alternative things - mostly in black. With determination and faith-filled confidence, I forged ahead. “Hey…” the clerk said as he peeked up over a huge stack of new merchandise. I could tell by his tone what he really meant, “Lady, do you know where you are?” I fired back trying to act as cool as possible. “Hey, I need to buy a gift.” I told him. “I would like to buy a t-shirt. Do you have anything in black with skulls on it?” “Sure do.” He said. “You’ve come to the right place, we’ve got a lot of that.” “I need it in a large,” I said. “It’s going all the way to Ireland. It’s a gift for a young man I’ve never met before. His mom told me he loves heavy metal music and anything black with skulls on it would do just fine.”  Don't be scared. The clerk directed me straight away to the back of the store. There was a shelf full of Metalica t-shirts. He showed me a tribute shirt for their ’92 tour. It had two brightly colored skulls on the front and it looked as though they were screaming at each other. “I think it’s perfect,” I told him. “I’ll take it.” Little did I know, it really was the perfect gift… and I hadn’t even left for Ireland yet.
Ready For Take Off! Early morning on September 16th my husband Roger and I, along with Traveling Squirrel, boarded a plane at Portland International Airport. We were headed for Dublin and had a few hours to kill in Philadelphia while we waited for our connecting flight. Wanting to experience some local fare, we set out to find a real Philly Cheese Steak sandwich. We had about two hours to kill so we took our time and shared our table in the very crowded bar with three sets of strangers. The first couple was actually from Salem, OR… where we live. They were an older couple on their way to Rome. The second couple was older too… they were from Vermont on their way to celebrate their 50th wedding anniversary in Paris. The third couple was from Ireland. She was a musician touring in Philadelphia for a couple of weeks. They gave us some traveling tips for driving in their country. We traded CDs and wished each other well. And so the Mystic Map began to unfold. My dear friend Fr. George used to say, “Don’t forget to pack the Mystic Map.” That is the map to all the wonderful things you have not planned for; the experiences and divine appointments only God knows are headed your way. After a six hour flight from Philadelphia to Dublin… we had arrived.
Driving In a Foreign Country - The True Test of A Good Marriage We signed the paperwork for the rental car and set out to find it. My level of anxiety about went through the roof when truth became reality. The steering wheel was on the right hand side of the car and you have to drive on the left side of the road. Wanting to save money, we rented a standard transmission. No problem for Roger because he drives a stick all the time. Only one thing different… the gear shift is in your left hand instead of your right. I knew we were off to a bad start when we both walked to the wrong sides of the car on our initial approach. Driving took two people. I was a necessarily vocal-backseat driver, only from the front seat instead of the back. Downloading the map of Ireland before we left home was a great idea. The Garmin GPS lady did a pretty good job outside the city but often became confused in the heart of Dublin. Between her giving us bad directions and me reminding Roger to make his left turns “Hard left, hard left, HARD LEFT!” and his right turns “Wide right, wide right, WIDE RIGHT!” there was a lot of chatter in the car. All things considered, Roger did great and only once threatened to park the car and fly home immediately. We did survive and we love each other even more today. (Isn’t that right, Roger?)
 All Hallows College, Gracepark Rd, Drumcondra, Dublin 9
 Holy Family, Aughrim Street Parish Holy Family, Aughrim Street Parish - Where it all started... For three years prior to our visit, I had been emailing back and forth with the Holy Family's Children’s Choir Director, Ann Baker. She had found my Mass of Simplicity through Oregon Catholic Press, my publisher’s website. Through the years and across the miles we had shared St. Patrick’s Day recipes and Christmas decorating traditions. We often spoke about the possibility of me visiting their parish one day. Thanks to generous sponsorship from here at home, that visit was made possible. On one condition, the donor said, “As long as you take Roger with you and promise to have some fun too.” I met Ann and the choir at their church for a rehearsal. The girls in the choir played instruments too. They were as excited to meet me as I was to meet them. One of the best things I overheard said, about myself, was “I love her accent!” I had never heard that one before. Made me laugh. Our rehearsal was really sweet. Charlie played guitar to help lead and did a fine job. We practiced their music and they practiced mine. The following day, at the church, all went well. Father Paddy said the Mass. He is such a sweet and gentle man. Very patient with all of us. We escaped with the children of the parish for time together in the church hall, while the adults heard the homily and began the Eucharistic Prayer. During our children’s church time I shared the story of Madeline Judith and Could I Paint The Sky? We sang songs, and danced around. We had so much fun we were a little late getting back to Mass. Father Paddy didn’t seem to mind though. And the rest of the congregation seemed to enjoy our performance of My Heart’s On Fire at the end of Mass. After a reception time which included tea and cookies, Roger and I set out for Ann and her husband Fred’s house for lunch. We took time first to pass by the site where then Pope John Paul II had said Mass on September 29, 1979. 1,250,000 people attended Mass that day. At that time, that was over one fourth of the population of Ireland. The site stands as it was then. Only quiet now… except for the many people there to use the park, including the Fallow deer who inhabit the back side of the property. It was a pretty incredible site to see. And the fact that now Saint Pope John Paul II once stood there made it that much more special.
 Roger, Ann and Me, Phoenix Park, Dublin
 Rock of Cashel
Ancient History - Modern Day Appreciation From the five-thousand-year-old ruins of New Grange and Knowth, to the ports of Waterford, Kinsale and Kenmare; there was so much to see in Ireland. We saw the Book of Kells at Trinity College and strained to see through the fog to Skellig Island where monks chose to build so long ago. It was from the Island of Cobh that the Titanic picked up it’s last one-hundred-and-twenty-three passengers. The same port from where the Coffin Ships sailed to Australia and other places across the Atlantic. The Lusitania sank just off the same coast. The ruins of the great potato famine still stand. No roofs left, only remnants of walls now where the ocean winds freely blow. Religious and political persecution certainly have taken their toll. My dear friend, Ann, tells a story of her great uncle who once did time in Kilmainham Gaol (Jail) for being in the possession of a dead hen. Castles and ring forts abound in the countryside. Points of defense mark the coastlines. So much has happened over time in a country only the size of the State of Indiana!  Remnants of the Great Potato Famine Finding Family at the Cliffs of Moher Roger and I drove the Ring of Beara on a beautiful sunny day. The Ring of Kerry the following day couldn’t have been more different. Thick, dense fog obstructed our every view. Our photos from the best Ring of Kerry viewpoint were… not to be. We enjoyed ourselves though. No tour busses on the roadway… because why would they bother? The beaches were empty so we walked for miles, picking up shells and skipping rocks. The following day we set out for the Cliffs of Moher. We arrived in the late afternoon. Except for a few clouds, the sky was clear and blue. The water below looked rough and frighteningly inviting. The views were spectacular no matter which direction you happened to look. At one point, we stopped and looked out from what seemed like the precipice of certain death. When suddenly Roger spoke, “Hey, that guy looks like my cousin Mike.” “Which guy?” I asked. “The guy in the hat.” Roger said. As they passed our way again I asked, “Is your name Mike?” “Yes.” He said. “Mike Schwab.” At that moment Roger reached out his hand and re-introduced himself, “Roger Hoy.” He said.  Roger, Gin & Mike Schmidt - Reunion at Cliffs of Moher After a moment of shock and disbelief we had a nice visit and took some great pictures. Turns out Mike and his wife, Gin, were there with a tour group, not just any tour group though. They were traveling with my publisher, Oregon Catholic Press (OCP). I didn’t know Mike serves on their board. What I’m up to is pretty out in the open. If I had known OCP was going to be in Ireland at the same time I certainly would have offered to connect with them and serve as I could. I didn’t know we would be there at the same time, and certainly didn’t know they would be at the Cliffs of Moher that sunny afternoon. It seems difficult to be seen when they are only forty miles from me… but four-thousand-six-hundred-and-sixteen miles from home God manages to schedule a Divine appointment. If you’ve ever been to the Cliffs of Moher you know there are miles of dangerous trails to walk along the cliffs. The fact that we ended up at the same viewpoint, at the same time was truly miraculous. We climbed on their tour bus as though we belonged. We smiled and laughed at the serendipity of our meeting. We missed Roger’s big family reunion this year but God knew where we were supposed to be and when. It was great to connect with Mike and Gin and OCP.
Searching for Philomena Roger and I made it our mission to find the small town of Roscrea. If you’ve heard the story of Philomena, you know she was an un-wed, Irish, teenage mother in the fifties. She was sent to St. Anne’s Convent in Roscrea to have her baby. Along with many other girls she was forced to work until she delivered and for many years after. Most girls were treated very poorly, their babies sold to wealthy couples from other countries. I don’t want to give away the ending so I won’t say much more than that. Roger and I, well truthfully, mostly I, wanted to find St. Anne’s. There were no obvious directions to be found. It seemed as though the locals didn’t know about the place and didn’t want to talk about it either. The only tourist information office in Roscrea was closed that Saturday. Finally, a woman working at the travel agency in town suggested we head to the White House Pub and talk to John. John, the bartender, was a soft spoken and very nice man. Roger and I ordered a sandwich to share and eventually struck up a conversation with John about why we were there. He told us how to find St. Anne’s. His directions seemed simple and straight forward. “You won’t see any signs from the road,” He said. “Just turn at the big metal gate.” Well, after driving five miles too far we turned around. We feared we would have to return to the White House and and ask John to repeat his directions when suddenly there it was, the big metal gate. We drove in slowly, not completely sure if we were in the right place. There were still no signs or directions, just a long paved road. We drove past a modern looking nursing home, probably built for the aging Sisters, around a couple more corners and there it was. Again, no fanfare. No signs. No indication that we were at St. Anne’s. We were also the only people on the property. We wandered around for a good long while, still not completely sure if we were where we were supposed to be. Roger and I separated to search. He hollered from the other side of a grassy knoll. “Here it is! I found it.” I can’t tell you what we found, in case you haven’t seen the movie. I will tell you this... our pilgrimage was not easy but was nothing compared to Philomena’s. I felt in my heart we had made the effort for her and all who were subject to life at St. Anne’s in those difficult times. After more walking and prayers sent for all the sadness which had been experienced in that place, we headed back down the long lonely road to the exit. After being there we understood much better why there would be no welcome center or gift shop. We left humbled yet fulfilled. Mission accomplished. Hearts moved. Souls touched. Life blessed.   My room at All Hallows - Up on top Our Return to Dublin Roscrea is only a couple of hours drive west of Dublin. Our return to the city was quick and direct and the road was nice and wide! We booked our last two nights in Ireland back at All Hallows. They could only accommodate us with separate single rooms and a shared bathroom… but we didn’t care. It just felt good to be “home.” The next morning, Sunday, the 28th of September, we walked around the campus taking pictures. That’s when we realized the rooms we were sleeping in were actually in the attic. No wonder I felt a little creeped out in the night and couldn’t wait for the sun to come up! It didn’t help me to know that my room over looked the old cemetery, the kind of cemetery so old you can hardly read the names on the headstones. I must add, the rooms were absolutely clean and very comfortable. (sigh) I said my prayers and all was good. We headed back to Holy Family, Aughrim Street Parish, for 11:30 Mass that morning. We had arranged to meet our friends there for a final farewell. As Roger and I knelt to pray for the Church, Fr. Paddy approached. “Julie,” he said. “It seems as though we have no choir. They didn’t show up this morning.” We had been asked to come back that week for the 11:30 Mass in order to hear the adult choir perform. Well, apparently they had sung somewhere the night before and had to sing the following day too… so they just didn’t show up that Sunday morning. In disbelief, I offered to help. “I have no guitar with me, Father, but I’d be happy to help in any way I can.” So there it went. Three minutes before Mass I was, “pressed to service,” as Father Paddy put it. I sang the parts of the Mass along with Entrance, Preparation of Gifts, Communion and Closing songs. “Don’t worry.” Ann said just before Mass began. “They won’t sing with you and you won’t think they appreciate it, but they do.” By the time Mass had ended the congregation was singing along beautifully. The whole experience was inspired and filled with joy. Just plain wonderful. After Mass and goodbyes Roger and I left Dublin to hit one more castle. It was his dream to see Trim Castle, where the movie Braveheart was filmed. It’s the largest castle in Ireland and it was quite the site.
 Dublin at Night Miracles and Hope Having the opportunity to spend time in a parish in Ireland was a privilege. There is no doubt the Catholic Church there is suffering. Scandal and corruption wreak havoc no matter where they happen. Sadly, some have been hurt deeply. I pray there will be justice for all. Many, seemingly, use the bad news as an opportunity to separate themselves from the good of the Church. Others, the faithful, continue to keep their trust and hope in God; keeping their eyes on the cross and out of the headlines. I have read Catholics make up approximately eighty percent of Ireland's population. We met many who told us flat out they have left the church because of the bad things that have happened. Made me sad for those who have been hurt and for those who only see the human side of the Church. Humans can’t help but mess things up. It is only God who remains unchanged and perfect - eternally holy and true. One night while in Dublin, Roger and I went to a bar called The Church. I didn’t know, until we made our way inside, that it was actually once a church. The music was bumpin’ and the lights flashing like crazy. Maybe it was just too late in the evening but it hurt my heart to see that the old altar area still bore the sign which read, “Do this in remembrance of me.” It seemed so offensive to me to see those words hanging above cushy lounge furniture and drunk people. We left pretty quickly. Between that experience, the low numbers of people at the Masses and All Hallows College going up for sale while we were there, it all felt pretty sad. Roger and I found hope though, in our last cab ride in Dublin. The young driver, a man in his thirties, asked what we were doing in Ireland. We told him it had to do with my work, the Catholic Church and music. He told us he was Catholic and that he and his family love their Catholic faith. He told us that his daughter would be receiving her First Holy Communion this year and his son his Confirmation. Roger and I glanced at each other in relief. In one cab ride our hope for the future of the Catholic Church in Ireland had been restored. The driver also shared with us that he was in recovery. When we arrived at All Hallows I gave him four blessed medals, one for each member of his family. He turned around and with a look of disbelief in his eyes said, “For me? Really? You know, my sponsor relapsed a while back and I couldn’t find him tonight. I needed to find him to encourage him and to tell him I needed him to encourage me. I needed to know I’m gonna be okay and you helped me to feel that way. Thank You,” he said. “God bless you both."  There were too many blessings to count on this adventure. I left a copy of my Novena for Sons and Daughters with two women who are experiencing the same kind of suffering as I have had with my son. We gave away CD’s and books all along the way. They seemed to end up with just the right people every time I felt inspired to pass them along. Even the twenty minute conversation we had with a local sheep farmer outside of Kenmare was a gift. Roger and I only understood about five words of what the man said but by the time it was over we were all smiles, handshakes and God Bless You's. To think it all started with a generous sponsorship and a trip to the Hot Topic store in Salem before we left. I gave the Metalica shirt to Ann’s son, David. He put it on right away and it fit perfectly. He gave us copy of one of his CDs. It was Metal music. Roger and I listened to it as we drove through the Irish countryside. We truly enjoyed it. Come to find out David played all of the instruments himself and recorded the whole project in his house. When we left town, my pen pal Ann, gave Roger and me each a beautiful cross. Come to find out, her son, David, designed them himself. There are only four of them in all the world. His friend cast them in silver. Those crosses like every experience throughout this fabulous adventure will be cherished and all those we met remembered in our prayers forever. Roger and I are so thankful for this opportunity. We did have fun and we watched God work everywhere we went. It is always a blessing to serve no matter whether we are at home or far away. May we always be pebbles in the pond sending out ripples of faith wherever we land.
The End - The Pebble In The Pond Tour 2014 If you have read this far... God Bless You.
Scripturally Speaking: John 20:21 21 So Jesus said to them again, “Peace be with you; as the Father has sent Me, I also send you.” (NASB) Click here to go back to Part 1 of 5 The Pebble In The Pond Tour |
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