I’m pretty sure I’m not Irish. Still, like many on St. Patrick’s Day, I wish I were. And I’m not really sure why.
I went to Ireland over ten years ago and that has been the extent of my overseas travels at this current time. I’m hoping in the next decade or so to remedy that situation.
I loved it. I loved the people, I loved the rural areas, I could admire the cities, but my heart belonged out in the countryside, like it always does, on the Cliffs of Moher, hopelessly lost with a friend on a back country road. Or perhaps traipsing through a fifth century cemetery suited me equally well.
At any rate, I have fond memories of Ireland.
Almost twenty years ago, while living in Lincoln, MA, I stumbled upon the St. Paddy’s Day Parade in Harvard Square. I remember thinking it so surreal that a midwest farmer’s daughter should stumble upon such a rowdy group of Irish Bostonians, out to enjoy the festivities.
The luck o’ the Irish. I love looking for four leaf clovers. When I was young my sister and I would spend many afternoons looking for four leaf clovers. It helped immensely after we discovered that certain patches of clover in our yard were more lucky than others.
Ah, the childlike thrill of finding a four leaf clover! I can’t help but look as an adult when I find myself in a patch of clover.
I like these weeds, as some would call them, for another reason as well. The trinity reminder–another sign in nature directing us to God. I believe that God loves four leaf clovers too. When we join ourselves to God’s trinity, we are four strong.
If there are patches of clover and shamrock in heaven, I believe they will all be four leaf clovers.
Do you have any fond Irish memories or St. Patrick’s Day traditions?