Reflections on the First Few Days — Our Newest Adventure, Part 2

This is part of a series of posts about my move from the States to Ireland.  If you would like to read about my arrival, you can click here, or if you are curious about why I moved to Ireland in the first place, check out this post.

 

September 2 

I am so overcome by the kindness I have been shown recently. Between the hospitality I received at a dear friend’s over the summer, and the incredible welcome here in Ireland, I’ve no idea how to respond except to praise God joyfully for the many blessings he has bestowed through these creations of his. Your plan is perfect, oh Lord, and I thank you.  You are so, so good to your children, and oh God I deserve nothing from your hand! It is only by your grace. Cause me to have a servant’s heart like these people, to be generous like they are.

Such generosity came in the form of a lift from the airport, time to rest at the home of my pastor and his family for a little while, tea and chocolate with some friends of my pastor’s, dinner with the family, a pillow, comforter, bed sheet, mug, container of yogurt, and some hangers from the same family, a rugby match on Saturday with my pastor, his son, and a few friends, and lifts to and from church both in the morning and the evening on Sunday.  Such abundance!  My cup overflows!

I honestly don’t know what to do about this joy!  It is just so clear that God intended for me to be here, an odd realization given that, even though living in Ireland was always a dream of mine, I NEVER imagined it would actually happen, and certainly not in this way.  If I had had my way, if God had answered my prayers of the autumn of 2017, I would be in Nashville working right now.  It was so painful at the time not to have the answers I wanted, but looking back, I am unbelievably grateful that God had something else in mind.

Some other, more concrete observations from my first few days here.

The fresh Irish air — oh it’s so wonderful!  I was made for this climate!

The Chocolate — I forgot how good the chocolate is here!

The grass — so lush and verdant.  I really do think it’s nicer than American grass.

Rugby is intense — I loved going to a game with my new friends, and receiving a play by play from my pastor and his son.  I had no idea rugby was quite as… brutal as it is.  Definitely a cool experience.

It gets hot here? — The sun was so hot during part of the rugby match I thought I was going to melt.  Granted, I wasn’t wearing the sort of clothes I would wear in American summers, but I was pretty shocked that I was actually hot to the point of being uncomfortable.

I tried to drive — the passenger’s side is on the opposite side of the car, of course, since they drive on the opposite side the road.  Naturally, I remember this well from Scotland, but when I am tired or not thinking I do have a tendency to head to the driver’s side by accident… I’m sure this will become second nature in a week or two, but, I mean, I don’t mind driving.  Hahaha.

Church family — love them all.  I certainly couldn’t tell you most of the names I learned today, but I’m looking forward to getting to know them over the weeks, months, wait, years? to come.  The thing that struck me most today about the church was the worship.  People were singing, and singing with joy to GOd.  It was committed, truth-filled, congregational, and thus, beautiful.

Jet lag — TBH, pretty bad.  I’m tired, but know the Lord will sustain me as we head toward orientation week and the beginning of classes, and soon our biological clocks will be back to normal.  We’ve just got to keep trucking.

Jesus Restored My Sight

I was about seven the first time I remember it happening.  We were at the mall, shopping for sandals, when an unfamiliar woman approached my mother.

“Your daughter is so sweet.  How old is she?”

“How old are you Shea?” my mom asked me.  Painfully shy at the time, I held up seven fingers, hoping she wouldn’t ask me any more questions.  Of course, she did…

“Shea, would you mind if I prayed for you??”

I looked to my mom, bewildered, then rather hesitantly shook my head.  I guess I didn’t mind.

“Um, that’s fine.” My mom agreed too, in response to the woman’s questioning glance.

She took my hands, and began to pray.  We quickly discovered that what she meant to ask was whether she could pray to restore my sight.

It happened several times after that, especially in the years before I entered high school.  I had hands laid on me in restaurants and tongues spoken in the street.  I grew to expect it from time to time, and since I didn’t know what else to do, I just shrugged, smiled, and let them pray.  I wouldn’t get my sight back, and I didn’t particularly care.  Blindness was my normal.  I was satisfied with my life as it was.  The last thing I needed was another year out of my life for the sake of surgery, or doctor’s appointments, or transition.  Hard as it may be for others to comprehend, I didn’t want my vision… I craved stability, a thriving social life, success, not sight… but I let them pray, because I knew the prayers were empty anyway.

I was wrong.  God did hear their prayers, and answered them.  I was fifteen years old, studying at

Csehy summer school of Music,

when I finally received my sight.  I received my first guide dog almost exactly a year later.

No, it wasn’t physical sight.  I am still working with my first guide dog, get green and blue confused, and can hardly see my hand in front of my face in a brightly lit room, but I saw more clearly that summer’s day than I had ever before in my life.

It was sometime during those two weeks at camp that I understood.  I saw myself, not the pretty little, blonde-haired, blue-eyed girl I saw in the mirror as a five year old, but me, The girl who thought she could find fulfillment in family, or academics, or morality, or popularity, or romance.  The fifteen-year-old, bitter, rebellious me.  Me, in all my faults and imperfections.  The girl I saw in the mirror now was lost, broken, and hurting.  I couldn’t see it at five, but I saw it now.

These wounds required something more than a temporal cure.  Family, friends, school, even romance had all failed me, and left me emptier than before.  I needed an eternal remedy.

Only Christ could be my cure.  My brokenness had separated me from GOd.  I was in need of his grace, and God was offering that grace, freely, through the sacrifice of his son, Jesus Christ.

I don’t let people pray for my sight anymore, because those prayers have already been fulfilled.  Whether I will ever receive my physical sight in this lifetime is God’s prerogative.  I am blessed beyond measure to know my Savior, and to know that, if I am physically blind for the rest of my life, the first person I will see when I do see again will be him.

A Second Journey: The Perfect Friday

Our third presentation of the week was at Buchanan High School, which caters to students with special needs.  Our presentation consisted of five psalms that we sung together, as well as our dramatized version of the parable of the Good Samaritan.  True to form, I play a villainous robber, along with one of my lovely teammates (or rather, fellow violent criminals).  Sometime in the near future I will see if I can post a video or recording of our wee drama on the blog.

We closed with an explanation of the drama, what exactly it was meant to represent and what lesson there was to be learned.  The pupils seemed quite engaged, especially considering how diverse the population is with so many different needs and ability levels in the classroom.  The questions asked afterward is always a good indication of interest, and their’s were fabulous.

1. When was this story first told?

Our answer: About two thousand years ago, originally told by Jesus, and recounted by His disciples in the New Testament.  The cool thing about it is that although it is quite an ancient story, it is still relevant in the present day.

2. Why did Samaritans and Jews hate each other?

Our answer (courtesy of our pocket theologian/team leader Joseph): It was basically a family dispute.  One group broke off from the other and they have loathed one another ever since. (Loathing. Unadulterated loathing.)

3. Why did Jesus choose the Samaritan to represent himself in the parable?

Our answer: One of Jesus’ goals in this parable was to explain the meaning, nature, and origin of goodness.  In order to do that, He had to break down His listener’s prior expectations surrounding goodness.  The two people whom you would have expected to do the right thing and help the Jew did not, and the one person you would have expected to completely ignore him ends up helping the Jew.  SO, I think it is a testament to true goodness, which can only come from God, and can span any distance.  Jesus is making it clear that our neighbor is not only those we already love (our friends and family), but those that are difficult to love (our enemies).

After the presentation was finished, we spent some time getting to know a few of the first years (11 and 12 year olds) a bit more personally, and then had tea and biscuits with the head teacher.

The afternoon was a battle field reformation tour.  SO much interesting history that I could not possibly recount accurately here, but I might find a link for a website that you could explore for yourself.  We got to go into a museum that is not yet open to the public, and that does not yet have all of their artifacts behind glass cases!  Guess what that means?  I got to hold several old swords, and one quite ancient one, probably about a thousand years old!  Coolest! Thing! Ever!

The museum is on the property of a working farm, so there were also sheep, and boarder collies that I could pet!  Yep, teaching kids about God, touching ancient artifacts, and petting puppies = basically the perfect day.

When we got home, we helped with kids club then closed out the evening with CY (youth group).  I got to play with yet another puppy and hang out with some great friends, though I will say I was pretty sleepy by then.