On the back side of a place named Back Side

6-1-2018 AD

Cannaway House B&B

Macroom County Ireland

Yesterday I stood in the sanctuary of a church first mentioned in the Vatican records of 1492.  Its floor was a garden of green plants, its roof the sky and a tree was growing in the choir.  Its walls were thick with neatly laid stone and its arches and windows were still leading our eyes upward to God.  It was no bigger than your living room, its tower still in tact and its Nave neatly squared.  What Holy Ground, what Sacred Space, what hope filled souls had first ventured into the barren landscape and said, “We must build You a home.” 

We had traveled down a two lane, down to a one lane, down barely a lane, the deeper we got ourselves in the higher the rugged mountains and the more knarled the earth.  We were on the backside of wilderness, a stream named Lee on one side a ragged range on the other and we weaving along on a sheep’s path somewhere far below when the road opened up and there was this Hallowed Home of Yore.  We walked the space, Betty weeping, me in love with The Object of this gift and all the world seemed bowed in honor of the long departed who had consecrated this ground. 

We ventured on and later, as we had passed through a forest of green where all ground, boulder and tree where wrapped in a cloak of emerald moss the earth held in trust another Tabernacle, this one built in 700.  Oh what treasures the earth holds for those on a pilgrimage.  Betty wept again.

Side notes:

One of life’s great pleasures in setting up your own Holy Ground.  While I’m on the road I always stop at the end of the evening and make ready my morning place to be spent with The Almighty.  It is a very special time for me.  I consider it throughout the day and then before laying down for the night I set it up, The Most Ancient Text, my seat, my coffee cup and glasses, my pen, is there a view available, and what light will help me see.  Lastly I plan how I will seal my sounds from the precious sleeping ears of my beloved.  If one considers it for a moment it is like readying for a meeting with a most esteemed dignitary, making sure everything is right for an honored visit, relaxed, comfortable and with respect for their position.  And so I ask myself, “How will i meet GOD?”

Yesterday we lite a candle for our newest Littles Benson, homed by Britt and soon to be welcomed onto The Tree Benson.  We held hands and prayed under a small stained glass window, the warmth of the candle warming our hands, You warming our hearts.  Oh we are ultimately grateful.  Betty wept again.    

Most places we venture we seem to have alone, churches, and yesterday we visited seven.  Dad, mom, Mary Kate and Ann Bristow would be pleased.

Turn north today.