March 17ish

March 17ish
Monday, March 16, 2015 by Maureen Lewicki

Categories: Uncategorized

With a maiden name of Murphy and given name of Maureen, it is not likely I can forget that my heritage is Irish, nor do I want to forget.

But I did, for several years, put that heritage into a box on a high, neglect-able shelf in my mind. It was not until a day in mid-March that I realized I had.

My daughter tumbled into the car that afternoon, fresh from her kindergarten with a question.

"Mommy, are you Irish?"

Mrs. Smith says you must be. She said your first name is Irish but I told her 'No, it's Maureen. How could she get that mixed up?"

"Yes I am Irish-American," I said, realizing that box had been tucked way back on a shelf.

Suddenly it mattered again, though I did not know why.

I began to tell her of my great grandfather's arrival on the heaving waves of the Atlantic, hopeful of a full belly, and work for his teen-aged hands. My daughter was ready to move on to the joys of scented markers, and the hazards of pointy pencils, and the red watery-eyed little boy who sat on one as it was held perpendicular to his chair.

She launched a monologue about playground caprice, as I unpacked the memories of growing up Irish Catholic. We Murphys lived by the credo that there were two kinds of people; Irish, and those who wished they were. Being Irish was fun and lucky. There was the obligatory annual corned beef and cabbage, the odor of which hung heavy in our home for days and probably clung to our clothes.

We laughed hard, reveled in the gift of gab, sweated the small stuff, and tried to keep the hard stuff at bay. We loved the music of Ireland, and dreamed of the day we could go there.

It all flew in the face of what my great-grandfather had actually experienced in the ol' sod. He had not left Ireland because it was fun being Irish. He'd left because being Irish was a death sentence in the 1850's and the USA was the only hope left.

Why had I tucked the Identity to the Irish heritage away? Because I had found something of immeasurable value, of greater worth than anything past or present. Or shall I say He found me?

1Peter 2:9

But you are a chosen people, a royal priesthood, a holy nation, God’s special possession, that you may declare the praises of him who called you out of darkness into his wonderful light.

Why wouldn't I tuck my identity into Him and keep other identities in their rightful place? Yet that day in March seemed to invite me to explore my identity as an Irish American and I soon learned some things about Ireland's history that broke my heart. I also could sincerely connect with Saint Patrick's prayer as a believer and follower of Christ:

St. Patrick's Breastplate (ca. 389-461 AD.)

I bind unto myself today the power of God to hold and lead...
Christ be with me, Christ within me, Christ behind me,
Christ before me, Christ beside me, Christ to win me,
Christ to comfort me and restore me, Christ beneath me,
Christ above me, Christ in the hearts of all that love me,
Christ in the mouth of friend and stranger.

I bind unto myself the Name, the strong Name of the Trinity, by invocation of the same, the Three in One, and One in Three, of Whom all nature hath creation; Eternal Father, Spirit, Word: praise to the Lord of my salvation, salvation is of Christ the Lord.