A Love Letter To The Emerald Isle
A Personal Note: Hi there, friends! I have inadvertently taken the last several weeks off from this space. Launching the book, getting back from traveling, and working full time at my other two jobs to compensate kept me busy. It was also a nice and much needed break after the season of launching the book, which in some ways is still ongoing, but it’s excited to have it in people’s hands finally! All that to say, thanks for your patience as I took a necessary step back. And now back to your regularly scheduled programming.
On the release date of Closer Than a Brother I was on a flight back from Ireland. This felt especially fitting as I’d developed the habit of calling it the Land of Friendship in my brain due to the innate friendliness of every soul we encountered on our trip. That is not an exaggeration. Everywhere we went, it seemed like people were willing to go out of their way to help us out, whether that was with directions, recommendations, or in one case, a bit of car trouble. A couple of men stopped and spent 30 minutes helping us get back on the road, treating it like it was as simple as holding the door open for a stranger. Never once did they make us feel like an inconvenience, not a single sigh of frustration or pause of hesitation. In another city, we asked for lemon for our “Lemon Sole Fish", not realizing that Lemon was part of the name of the fish, not an ingredient for the dish, and the clerk ran down the road and brought back a ramekin of lemons, even though we had promised we’d be perfectly happy without them.
Just above a park bench in Kenmare, a bright yellow sign reads “The Happy to Chat Bench: Sit here if you don’t mind someone stopping by to say hello.” In Ennis a sculpture outside one of their cathedrals portrayed cupped hands, one palm facing up as if holding some small invisible creature, the other hand cupped around it as if sheltering it from the wind. Placards describe the many meanings of the hands: welcome, peace, faith, and ultimately, the sovereignty and compassion of the Creator God himself. “I come out of the church and find my roommate reading them all. “It’s so tender” she says as I stand next to her. The baristas at a little cafe give us a glowing recommendation for where to spend the day and send us off with the most luxurious pistachio croissant I’ve ever eaten in my life. So good, I went back for another the next day.
As I sat on the plane, reluctantly returning to Texas after a full week in one of my favorite countries, I ruminated on the kindness of Ireland and the innate friendliness of its people. How timely it all felt as I watched friends, family, and strangers post pictures of their newly arrived copies of my book. I wish I could have plucked dandelions from the Kerry countryside and sent one to each of them.
Upon returning and discussing my trip with a friend, I remarked at how many cafes and bookstores there were. How tailored to me it all felt. He dubbed it the land of books and coffee. It seemed to fit.
I’m two weeks home now and glad to be back with my people, but I am dreaming of the sheep-interrupted roads, the rocky pastures, the gorse lining every road in bloom with yellow petals. I picture John O’Donahue writing about Anam Cara - soul friends - and C.S. Lewis growing up as a boy before going to school in England. I pretend I am walking again the halls of Kylemore Abbey, looking at the stunning lake and mountains of Connemara just beyond the window. I imagine the cottage we spent the last 2 days in, where the stars shone brighter than anything, and our host told us to watch for cyclists as we backed out of his remote driveway. The winding road where we were mean-mugged by a particularly grumpy ewe and the coast where we pulled over to bask in the view. If I close my eyes I can taste the Irish Whiskey I sampled from a local distillery or feel the velvety texture of a head of Guinness on my tongue.
This is a love-letter to Ireland more than anything else, and an ode to a place that moves at a purposely slower pace, a country that built around the curves of nature, not over it, and takes time to honor the earth, its people, and the divine. Sláinte, Ireland. Thank you.
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