“I know what a snicker is – but a doodle?” One of the tea ladies questioned as we talked about our favourite biscuits one morning after Daily Mass. We all had a good laugh, but it was in that moment that I was struck by reality: I’m in small-town Ireland, sitting around a table enjoying tea and biscuits after Mass, hilariously epitomizing the meme, “your unemployed friend on a Tuesday at 11am” and I couldn’t be happier.
That morning, like every morning, we walked to the church. It’s not a far walk, but it’s not across the street. Most days then comprise of walking from the church to one of the schools for First Communion/Confirmation lessons, or perhaps to the recording studio for Christian Media Trust radio programming. From there, it’s likely a return to the church to get some office work done, after which one may head into town to run some errands or top up a phone plan. The walk home from town is a bit of an uphill battle (literally), but barring the onset of inclement weather, it’s not too bad.
The point being: We walk a lot. Like, a lot. Being here a month and a half, I can say that I’ve gotten used to it, and am even recognizing the graces this kind of lifestyle boasts. If you’ve never seen the Netflix special “Live to 100: Secrets of the Blue Zones” I highly recommend it. Essentially, this guy travels around the world to investigate the diet and lifestyles of those living the longest lives; I am quite certain that if he had the opportunity to come to Wexford and have tea at Clonard, this town might just be an honorary mention.
When pondering what to write for this post, I kept coming back to the “central” or daily aspects of life here, serving the Church and living in community. I’ve realized that walking is not only our main mode of transportation, but results in an increase of appreciation – for our vitality, our friendships, and nature, to name a few.
Katie and I decided to make the trek to Aldi – a slightly farther grocery run than Lidl – on a particularly windy day. As we faced the wind head-on, we started singing Miley Cyrus’ “The Climb” and laughed as the lyrics rang true: “Always gonna be another mountain, always gonna wanna make it move, always gonna be an uphill battle, sometimes you’re gonna have to lose, ain’t about how fast I get there, ain’t about what’s waiting on the other side, it’s the cliiiiimb!”
I was reminded of something a roommate told me in my second year of university, when I was in a relationship that was not particularly faith-founded. She said, “We’re all on a journey with our faith. It’s like we’re all climbing a mountain. And it doesn’t matter where you are on the mountain, but you can’t just be waiting for someone to ‘catch up.’ You have to be at the same point on the trail if you’re going to help each other to the top.”
And now, years later, I finally understand what she meant. It was hard to leave Canada this fall, because I had just lost a dear family member, but in the midst of my shock and sadness God continues to answer my prayers. In just a few short weeks, I have been blessed with the opportunity to serve with people who strive to glorify our Lord and love unconditionally; we’re following His blazes as we climb the mountain arm in arm.
