I am away camping to Dublin city this morning for a few days. I hope to make it down to Harrington Street every morning to the 8am Latin Mass. If anyone on the forum wants to come up and say, 'Hello', that would be great. https://www.latinmassdublin.ie/
May Jesus bless you with unexpected graces and joys, Padraig! O Mary conceived without sin, pray for this beloved child of yours!
I hear they are doing the whole big deal this year and was surprised, I thought they would be too afraid. It's good to see them getting back to normal.
Every time I go away I count it as a little Pilgrimage because there is more time with God, alone, to listen and to talk. Each time too is coloured by a different character. This time it was somewhat taken with little Crosses. My gas bottle where empty so I could not cook and happily discovered I had lost 7 pounds when I got home, so that was good and bad. The fan on my heater went off when it was sub zero, so that was pain. A Satt Dish I bought for my little TV second hand was useless so I had to dump it. It rained so hard one day I was soaked to the skin and so had to stay in all day. I found the traffic in Dublin very intimidating and nowhere to park, so that clipped my wings. But I find these things, these little Crosses tend to turn the mind more to God and the things of God. For instance the night of the heavy rain my Angel Guardian came and suggested that if such a thing happen again I could maybe go to a Church and spend some time in front of the Blessed Sacrament and expressed surprise that I had not thought to do so so. When I told him it was because I was not nearly as holy as he was he laughed and went away. Angels have a sense of humour too. I went to mass every day to the Dominican Priory in Tallagh. They had the most unusual Statue of St Martin De Porres, very modern with a dog beside him. The poor dog had an expression as though he had just swallowed a poisoned gold fish, which made me laugh. I took this as a little sign and prayed in front of it every morning. But St Martin had a very sour expression on his face, almost as sour as the poor dog. I don't know why people can't do statues of saints and Our Lady where they are smiling or even laughing. What harm would it do? There is so much sadness in the world.
Away Camping again. This time to Clare Glen in Armagh. I will be going to Mass in Armagh Cathedral every morning if anyone is on the forum, please say, Hi!
Such beautiful churches in Ireland, you are blessed Padraig. Funny thing, I had a dream about St. Patrick last night. I walked into an old church like this one with my husband and youngest daughter. For some reason we were familiar with this church and knew there was a gift shop inside. Since we were early for Mass we decided to stop by the shop. As soon as we walked in we knew we were not in the gift shop. It was a small dark room with brick walls, the only light came from many small candles lining the walls. Sitting in the corner of the room was a old priest with a beard. He was dressed in green vestments, and wore a scarf adorned with shamrocks. Behind him were small Irish flags. I assumed this was St. Patrick, but the only thing I said was, “Oh, I guess they turned the gift shop into a little prayer shrine”. A parishioner who overheard me called out, “The gift shop has been moved to the fourth floor”. I thanked her, and we left. Strange dream. Probably should have posted this in the dream thread, but I saw your video so my post lives here. Have a wonderful camping trip!
I was trying to figure out the symbolism...could very well be the faithful remnant. It makes sense because I felt the presence of great holiness, and peace in that small room. The environment outside of the room was totally different, very secular, and lots of noise.
It’s one of those dreams that you can’t stop thinking about. I’m not the best at dream interpretation, but I had to dig into this because it was the first time a saint appeared in my dreams, and it was so vivid. Apparently St. Patrick founded his first Church in Ireland on the site now occupied by St Patrick’s Church of Ireland, Armagh Cathedral. In my dream St. Patrick was not sitting in the beautiful church that I walked into, he was in a dark ancient room, underground perhaps, but surrounded by the light of the faithful remnant. The scarf he wore was knitted but very modern compared to his vestments, blending the past with the present which goes back to the return of a ‘smaller’ church.
