Posted by: Peadar Ban | March 17, 2016

Today: March 17, 2016: The Glorious Feast of St. Patrick


I awoke today to a pure Irish day, a fine, soft day all quiet and pure with bells ringing in a slim breeze, and the song of small birds on the air, and my soft bed beneath my old bones; soft as the womb that held me before I was a child, a boy and man, and while I was merely the promise my own father told me I was when Hope was everything; a promise the world’s own Father made to him, and to every mother, too.

The sky isn’t blue yet, but it will be.  It will be as blue as a little child’s eyes, and the sun swinging along on its way to the West again will be smiling warmly.

The sun hasn’t broken through the blue gray cover of clouds, a cover like a silk sheet on the world, but it will, golden like the eye of an egg on the plate in the morning

I awoke today singing inside.  It’s a song, I think the world sang the day it was born.  A song still being sung in the wind and through the waters, from the clouds to the waves.

My heart’s filled with music my heart was born to hear.

My head’s filled with the words of the music I was singing; a song of Creation and the Lord of all Who created Creation, and Who keeps it going out of pure love for all of us, the best of His creation.  Keeps it for us here in our playground and our palace, our toy and our Home; our long walk with Him, and our Destination in Him who promised never to leave us alone.

And, here are the words to the songs in my head this morning:

The Print of His Finger

The print of His finger on all that we see,
Strong Voice in the thunder, soft Whisper through trees.
His breath through black storms above fiercely broiling.
His arms wild waves cross wide world ever hurling.
God’s with the stars, bright, ancient and moving
Through fires of time and space, all combining.
One Will of creation, One firmness of purpose
Done without us and for us by Love all before us.

And this, the second:

I Saw God’s Face

I saw God’s face in a flower’s new bloom,
His promise in its sealed brother bud
Which, while I watched, opened wide
And beauty broke, and beauty broke
Through misery’s mists before my eyes.

Nothing more than form and hue;
Nothing less, though, it seemed, would do
To show me clear the Face of God
In this small thing in my little yard.

And all the world within contained,
Resolved, restored, reborn, explained.

Here are several “thoughts” for the day:

Reflections From the Saints:

If I am worthy, I am ready to give up my life, without hesitation and most willingly, for Christ’s name.

– St. Patrick
(Are you?)
More should be asked of you, because you can give more and you should give more. Think about it.

– St. Josemaria Escriva, Furrow, #13
(Have you?)
From Matthew:
“Beware of practicing your righteousness before other people in order to be seen by them, for then you will have no reward from your Father who is in heaven.”
(Do you?)
I have never met a people more open hearted and open handed than the Irish.

The great writer, G. K. Chesterton is the fellow who wrote a wonderful poem called “The Ballad of The White Horse”.  You should read it if you have not already done so.  But, in it are these famous lines:
For the great Gaels of Ireland
Are the men that God made mad.
For all their wars are merry
And all their songs are sad
Here is a song that captures well that bit of truth.  I could have given you any I suppose:



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