Have you ever traveled to a new place that felt like you were coming home for the first time in your life? That was Ireland to me. I always get nostalgic for Ireland in September; this year marks 7 years since the September I entered my first international terminal. I took this trip alone. I was 24 and I needed to get away. I needed a fresh start. I needed to find out who I was away from everyone I knew.
To Ireland, alone?
It all started several months before the trip, when I got a very clear, strong nudge, that I could only conclude was God’s nudge, to go to Ireland. The idea to go to a place I didn’t know alone was kind of crazy to me and my logical mind, but this nudge in my heart told me that doing this was the right choice. From that point on, I felt a strange peace about it. I did the unthinkable, and bought my plane ticket without a plan, “Who even am I?” I thought at the time. But there was a huge grin on my face.
When the time came to board my plane, I had my nightly stops planned out, but enough room to wander if I wanted. This was not a jam-packed trip, as those tourist-filled trips tended to make me anxious; instead each stop was intentional, deliberate, and without rush. Perfect. I needed to slow down and take unhurried time to figure out what God had for me in Ireland. I didn’t know anything about it other than a few of my aunt’s stories from her trip years before, but all of her stories sounded like exactly what I needed–greenery, kind people, and a simple love for the earth and for life itself. I hoped her stories would be true for me too.
On the plane I marveled at how calm I was. I was sitting next to strangers, many of them Irish, bolting through the air across the Atlantic Ocean all night long toward Shannon International Airport. Once I arrived, I would have no way to contact anyone I knew, and they wouldn’t be able to contact me, until I got a little Irish prepaid phone for emergencies. I planned to post Facebook updates and update my travel blog when I could find an internet cafe or library so that my family knew I wasn’t dead. But I was okay with all of that. What a delicious new freedom it was to have so little safety net! I had to rely on God to take care of me and keep me from harm. I was so happy, despite the jet-lag, when I arrived early in the Irish morning. It was sunny.
Limerick
At my hotel in Limerick, the man behind the bar who served me coffee said that it had rained quite solidly with no sun in months, the wettest summer they’d had in 50 years, and that it must have had something to do with me. I knew he was teasing, but something about it struck me. To me, it was a sign that God was taking care of me here already. Even tottering around on the brick walkways in town jet-lagged, I didn’t fall, twist an ankle, or get mugged (which I later learned was a real possibility in that part of town).
Before I headed to my next stop, I needed to charge my camera because I planned to take copious amounts of pictures of everything, but the electric converter I had brought from home didn’t work. So, I set out again in seedy Limerick to find a converter. The first place I went I met Marcus, a Chilean man with an Irish accent. He was one of the first angels God sent to take care of me, even though he didn’t have any converters to sell me. Instead, he told me exactly where to go to find one, and warned me to be careful in there. Once I left, I knew what he meant, but I got what I needed and went back to show him. He made sure that it worked for me and sent me off. The kindness of people in Ireland just astounded me. I wouldn’t be as trusting of anyone in the US, but everyone I encountered truly was kind. What a gift!
Limerick was the very first place I went in my trip, and the most developed, but it held one of the most beautiful spots. I wandered onto the greenest church grounds you’ve ever seen at St. Mary’s cathedral in the evening, right before it closed. I only had time to peek inside for a moment. The stained glass, curved ceiling, and gold chandeliers made quite an impression on me. I thought quite a bit about God and what His role was in my life during this trip and in general. But He met me in the garden at St. Mary’s. I lingered on the church grounds after the doors closed. The gardens were quiet, lined with stone, and alive. The atmosphere tingled with life and the wisdom of a long history. Then I saw it. There was a quote on the wall that said, “One never feels closer to God’s heart than when in a garden.”
Walking with God in the garden
It wasn’t just another quote, this one was different. In the spiritual sense, these words shimmered and danced. They struck me as if God was speaking these words directly to me. I paused there a while. I knew God wanted me close. He invited me to get to know His heart, and here in this moment He knew I was ready to hear that invitation. He invites you to the same, but in your own time. He will invite us all in His way that uniquely stirs our heart to find His. This experience established the Ireland trip in my mind as walking on holy ground with God. He would be teaching me as we walked.
I later came to treasure Genesis 3:8-9, because it speaks of the holy ground I was actually on walking in the little Irish garden. “Then the man and his wife heard the sound of the Lord God as he was walking in the garden in the cool of the day, and they hid from the Lord God among the trees of the garden. But the Lord God called to the man, ‘Where are you?’” (Genesis 3:8-9). This passage makes me ache knowing the longing in God’s heart. He longs to enjoy the garden with us. He wants to walk with us as we walk, to see our delight in being where we are, living the life He gave us. How often do I truly remember that His intention was always to walk alongside us? How often do I invite Him along for my walk? Finally, how often do I feel too “busy” to spend time with God in the first place?
There is something about travel that heightens awareness, that allows us to tap into something that we have numbed ourselves to in our everyday surroundings. Back then during the trip, I wrote in my journal, “I think travel is and will continue to be a great opportunity to seek God, finding Him and His love everywhere, in everything, no matter what country I happen to be in.” In Ireland, I was so nimbly able to see God’s love working. The spiritual experience that travel can be is truly amazing and worthwhile. Getting out of my comfort zone and trusting God with the trip is one of my favorite memories. I would encourage anyone to go to a country of great natural beauty and take unhurried time to talk to God and marvel at His incredible creation.
This past spring, I was fortunate enough to go on a silent retreat to be alone with God. For the first time since that day in Ireland, I felt that same invitation from God as I was walking in the woods past the green leaves of the trees. Suddenly, I knew I was walking with God here. That wood became sacred ground. And this time, I cried tears of joy.