A Leprechaun in My Pocket

No, Missy, I didn’t come back from Ireland with a leprechaun in my pocket, but I did come back with lots of wonderful memories, and so many parts of Ireland in my mind that I probably sound a bit foggy this morning. We’ll lay it to jet lag.

I don’t know where to begin to tell you about Ireland. Some of you have been there and some have not as yet. It is a magical place of stone ruins 1500 years old,  neat, green fields, misty green or blue hills, of round towers and of St.Patrick and Daniel O’Connell, fairy rings and bogs, many, many sheep, lots of cattle, and fine-blooded horses.

One of the memories I’ll keep in my pocket is of a group of twenty-three Baptists from Northwest Arkansas gathering in a 1500 year old stone round house built by early day Irish monks. Rain poured down outside the building; ancient gravestones lay aslant or on the ground, an Irish yew tree stood guard as together our group sang, “Amazing Grace.”

Ireland is a land of fiercely independent people, proud of their heritage and striding with great optimism into the future. Irish people love their music and are fine musicians, singers, and dancers. They are warm and generous. I promise I’ll write more about my trip to Ireland in the coming days, but I want to be sure and tell you about a sign that is up for visitors who enter one of the villages. As the visitor enters the town, a sign is posted that says, “A hundred thousand welcomes”. As the traveler leaves, a sign at the end of town says, “Safe home.” I feel that’s what Ireland said to me as the big 767 jetliner touched down at Dublin, “A hundred thousand welcomes” and as we left yesterday in the rain, Ireland said, “Safe home.”