Prayer

I have great faith in the prayer the Memorare ever since it was taught to me by Mrs Magee at Tannaghmore  Primary School just before I went in to sit my 11+. Which exam I passed not that it ever did me much good. So that makes it around half a century I've been saying the prayer in my anxious times.

I've been saying it a lot this week for I have a special person who needs to find a bit of strength to keep her going. As always, my prayer is for the best possible outcome even if that outcome is not the most obvious one. Our Lady knows best.

Then it occurred to me that there might be another mother praying for her child and that she might be hoping for an outcome very different from mine. Still. Not to fret. Our Lady knows best.

Beyond Redemption

Like many elderly folk Pearlie does not hear too well. However, in her case, that often depends on what is being said and who is saying it. For instance when Cousin Margaret or Aunt Lizzie are with her, Pearlie cannot understand a word I say. I'll speak to her and she'll look at me quizzically, screw up her face as if I'm speaking Mandarin or Gaelic, then turn to her relative and remark. "What did she say?"

I went into her room at midday today and asked her,

Well. Are you ready for something to eat? 

What? 

Do you want a bite of lunch? 

I cannae hear you. 

What do I usually ask you at this time of day?

She looked at the clock and barked at me,

An egg!

<><><><><>

For a long time now just as I've been settling down to sleep I've been mildly irritated by Pearlie starting to mumble and drone at around the midnight hour. I thought she might have been reading her Bible aloud and even though I found the droning noise annoying I felt I could not take exception to a lady in her eighties communing with her Saviour. I felt it would be denying her human rights.  There was also the matter of not giving her the pleasure of knowing she was getting on my nerves. But there was this one night I wanted to know for sure. Was it the Old Testament or the New? I crept down the stairs and found that she was not reading from the Gospels. She was merely saying her prayers and, like a child will do, she was praying for the people she knew. I listened for a while and my name was never mentioned. She obviously thinks that I am beyond redemption.

I Lost My Mojo

Since Matty died I have found myself short of inspiration for this blog. Sometimes I get an idea about something I want to write about but the flow isn't there. I can't seem to write from the heart any more as there are others affected by her death just as I am.

A friend told me that after her last surviving parent, her father died, she became obsessed with thoughts of her own mortality and she found this very difficult to deal with. I remember that she was extremely concerned about her two sons, both still at school, as to how they would manage if she were to die. She said she found these feelings more manageable as time passed.

And so it goes. Now I'm obsessed with death and illness too. I should be grateful that my immediate family are all well but I find myself fearing what might happen to the people I love.

Our extended family is a large one and as I've written before we received an enormous amount of support from them when Matty was ill. This week we heard that one of our cousins has been struck by serious illness. If you believe in prayer please add to yours our dear cousin and his family.

On Growing Old

As you'll know elders are a big feature in my life right now. Both my mother and my mother-in-law are in poor shape at this time. Both find life difficult, both get very tired of living. But somehow they fight on to see another day. Bert and I were talking about this, wondering how we'll be when we're old, infirm and ill. Bert reckoned he'd be bitter. I hoped I wouldn't. But hey! Think on this. To get to be old - is that so bad?

There is somebody young right now, somebody related to me, although I do not know her, somebody who is very seriously ill. I hope and pray she gets to be old.

Faith

You know I have a great belief in the power of prayer.

Indeed. Prayer is a wonderful thing.

It can move mountains for sure.

You are right there.

I have great faith in the prayer to Saint Peregrine.

I must admit that Saint Peregrine is a new one on me.

Saint Peregrine is the patron saint of cancer.

Is that so?

It is. And I have prayed to Saint Peregrine for an awful lot of people.

Sure it can do no harm.

There was this young fellow I knew once whose mother was a great friend of mine. She was a cousin of John MacQ - the same John MacQ whose sister was married to Pat Joe Dobbin who you’ll mind living at the junction.

I can’t say that I know him or his people.

Anyway he had cancer and I prayed steady for him for he was only a young man in his forties.

What was the outcome?

Sure didn’t he get better. The doctors tested him thoroughly and couldn’t find one trace of cancer left in him. It was a miracle. He died three weeks later from a heart attack but clean cured of cancer!