Maria Byrne
A break makes you appreaciate what you have
I was very lucky to be able to take a short autumn break recently, travelling with my husband, father and three of my children to one of the most scenic parts of the country. Connemara, with its wild raw beauty, is lovely at any time of the year, but with the unexpected Indian summer, it was at its best.
While staying in my father’s holiday house in Claddaghduff, a few miles from Clifden, I took the opportunity to visit Kylemore Abbey. It’s a popular tourist attraction but, even though I’ve holidayed regularly in this part of Ireland, I’d never had an opportunity to visit.
One of the most striking parts of the experience was strolling around the Victorian walled garden. This six-acre wonderland includes tree-lined walks, herbaceous borders and a stunning array of flowers, trees and shrubs, all in the dramatic setting of the south slope of Dúchruach mountain.
My eight-year-old daughter could only respond with a whispered “Wow!” on first glimpsing the awe-inspiring scene, which was no faint praise. The whole scene reminded me of the line from To Autumn, the John Keats poem: “Season of mists and mellow fruitfulness, close bosom-friend of the maturing sun.”
The russet-tinged leaves, the boughs laden with fruit and berries and the distant sound of buzzing bees was the next best thing to an earthly paradise.
Like all good things in life, my mini-holiday had to come to an abrupt end. As I stared gloomily at the letter with details of the water charges, which arrived shortly after my return, I dreamed of a life where every day would be as peaceful and serene as it was in that little white cottage in the West. Without mobile phone signal, television or internet, it was as far removed as one could get from the stresses of modern life.
Sometimes, when we get away from it all and find a little breathing space, we can fantasise about a different life, a better life where we’d be blissfully happy without a care in the world.
What if
Another thing that we often do is play the “what if” game. What if I had a better job or a bigger home or better relationships? What if I had a more fulfilling job or better career prospects?
I attended the first Mass of a new curate in a neighbouring parish recently. He touched on this very point in his homily which was based on the story of the workers who were paid the same, even though they were employed very late in the day.
The priest pointed out that we often look at the lives of others and compare them to our own. We might grumble about some elusive lifestyle that we perceive others to be enjoying or ask why we weren’t the lucky one who won the Lotto millions. We can focus on what we view to be unfair and see a cent extra in one person’s pocket as somehow being a loss to us.
We forget, as this new priest said, that to a struggling family in the developing world, the life we have is one that they couldn’t even hope to aspire to.
It’s a bit of a cliché to say to someone that ‘you are where you are’. It sounds pretty trite and meaningless. My perfect life might involve meandering endlessly in idyllic walled gardens on sunny September days. Maybe that’s normal life for some people.
My reality includes what I’ve just encountered this week: a teenage daughter with a nasty eye infection who needs a bit more tender loving care, another daughter who needs constant cajoling and encouragement to improve her writing skills and a four-year-old son who proudly shows off his creativity on a newly-painted wall.
I am where I am and, as I once read on a very interesting blog post: “You are where you are because that’s exactly where you want to be.”
However simplistic that sounds, the choices and decisions we made, the paths we chose to travel and the roads we didn’t take, have led us to the lives we are living today.
The way I decided to live my life was as a married woman. As a girl, I may have bought into the Disney fantasy of walking into the sunset to live happily ever after.
Journey
However, after years of marriage, the words of Pope Francis ring true. At a Mass where the Pope presided over the marriage of 20 couples, he spoke of marriage being “a demanding journey, at times difficult, and at times turbulent”.
The challenges of being a good wife and mother can take its toll. I sometimes wake up in the morning wondering if I’m up to the tasks that lie ahead.
I can’t deny that I enjoyed my recent break from the daily routine but, to be perfectly honest, I missed my other children and the hurly-burly of my ordinary life.
I like the “strength and depth of humanity” that Pope Francis pointed to as impossible to quantify in family life. I feel invigorated by the support and the love that gets us through every difficulty and makes good times even better.
The colours of family life might be a bit more subtle, but, in fact, they’re every bit as rich and pleasing as the most vibrant display in the loveliest of gardens.