Life, Living, Becoming...
|In Search of a Miracle
I once went with my dad and some of his friends across Ireland to Knock; that's the name of a little town where Our Lady appeared to a few locals. They built a church on the spot of the apparition and if you couldn't save enough money to go to the more famous Lourdes in France, you took a train to Knock in Co. Mayo. If you were really desperate, you tried both.
Some bishop or other came and said Mass in the open air but because it was Knock it was a Super Deluxe one; 3 hours with poor unfortunates getting bored and wailing. They didn't know any better but the nuns who looked after them would have been failing in their duty if they didn't try to keep them in God's family and take them to Knock just in case one of their charges would be blessed and cured.
All the wheelchairs were down the front. They always get the best seats :-]
Where do you think the blind people were? Bringing up the rear. No problem, they didn't need to see, as long as they could hear! I remember my dad leaning against the Church itself and having a cigarette.
It was a much quieter ride home. It must've been because everyone was full of the Holy Ghost, or more likely we were all knackered after an afternoon in the sun. We got home eventually and I sensed me Da had had enough of chasing miracles for a while. He never stopped going to Mass but thank God we didn't bother with Knock again.
I was thrilled to have him to myself again. He never held my hand too tight.
© gerry coughlan 1998 - 2012 gerry coughlan