(Mostly) Irish Travelogue: A Miracle at Knock
If you are Irish or Catholic or both, chances are you know about the shrine at Knock in County Mayo, Ireland.
Here's a summary of the history of Knock, from the shrine's website:
"The Story of Knock began on the 21st August 1879 when Our Lady, St. Joseph and St. John the Evangelist appeared at the south gable of Knock Parish Church. The apparition was witnessed by fifteen people, young and old. From this miraculous Apparition Knock has grown to the status of an internationally recognised Marian Shrine."
You can read all about the shrine and it's legacy here: http://www.knock-shrine.ie/
On our hunt for the elusive automatic rental car, we drove right past the town of Knock. I have heard tales of the shrine and its miraculous healing Holy Water since I was a kid in Catholic school, so I mentioned to Esposo and Uncle V that I'd never been there before. Next thing you know, we're making a pit-stop in Knock.
I am not a regular church-goer, but I am religious. Or maybe spiritual is a better word. Either way, I know what it feels like to look at an endless sky or see a newborn baby, catch my breath and think, "Yes. There is a God. Good job, God. This is awesome." So I guess I expected to experience something similar in a place where multitudes of believers flock in search of miracles.
Right off the bat, however, I felt underwhelmed. As we walked towards the shrine, we passed a block of ramshackle shops that clearly sprung up around the site, selling Souvenirs of Knock: from empty bottles for storing your Holy Water to, I kid you not, cigarette lighters. I know this because my BIL bought one since he'd lost his own. And it seriously read: "A Souvenir of Knock" on it. *shakes head* I was forcefully reminded of one of the Gospels...you know. The one where Jesus drives the merchants from the temple. This was not, I feared, a good sign.
Then there was the site itself. I dunno what exactly I expected, but knowing Ireland the way I do, I at least expected something ancient. Crumbling. Alive with history.
What I did NOT expect was the slick new church (built specially for the Pope's visit) and a literal wall of Holy Water dispensers. The looked like very fancy school hall water coolers. It was so remote and detached. Way too much Man Made and not enough Divine Presence. I shrugged, let the Esposo fill up his plastic "Souvenir from Knock" Holy Water bottles and said I was ready to go.
We walked around the town itself and stopped for a snack: coffee for the grown ups, ice cream for Patoot and a huge lime green ice pop for the dairy-free Munchkin (being dairy- and egg-free in Ireland, btw? HARD). Uncle V finished his coffee and said he'd bring the car around and pick us up so the kids wouldn't have to walk back. So we waited outside the shops at one of the outdoor café tables, Patoot trying to convince us to buy her something, ANYthing, and the Munchkin quietly playing with his lovey, Puppy.
When Uncle V pulled up, there was suddenly a bunch of traffic behind him, so we hopped up fast and rushed into the car. As we drove to the rental place to see if their sole automatic car had come in yet, I mused to myself if our visit to the holy shrine might help us out with our little car issue. We drove along peacefully, Uncle V pointing out local sites and the Esposo commenting. I almost nodded off. Then.
MUNCHKIN: Mommy? Where Puppy? I want Puppy.
Oh. My. God.
Esposo frantically searched the back seat, the front seat, the trunk...nothing. There was no use denying it.
We had left Puppy in Knock.
And we were at LEAST twenty minutes away by now. Uncle V and Esposo were both very pessimistic about our chances of finding Puppy again. But - like my last Puppy-related saga - I was adamant. We HAD to go back for Puppy. We had to at least LOOK. Puppy is the Munchkin's favorite toy on earth. He's not even a mere toy. He's a LOVEY. And I've never seen a kid love his lovey more. The men shook their heads, but turned the car around.
It was a tense twenty minute ride back. All was quiet. In my head, two thoughts were buzzing around:
1. How on EARTH am I going to replace Puppy. IN IRELAND?
2. Please God, please please please, let Puppy still be there. Please. PLEEEEEEZE.
Finally we arrived back in Knock. Like most Irish towns, it isn't very big. Our search would be a short one. As we crested a hill, my eyes frantically scanned the sidewalks for the café tables we had been sitting at.
Please let him be there, God. Please. PLEASE.
There he was, casually flopped in the middle of the aluminum table. Forty minutes later. Puppy.
And it hadn't even rained on him.
I leaped from the still-moving car (ok, not really) and ran to snatch up the Munchkin's beloved, but oft in peril, stuffed dog. And as the Muchkin gave Puppy an epic hug, I glanced up at the cloud-covered sky and thought:
THANK YOU.
So. Do I believe in miracles? I believe in getting the ones you NEED, not necessarily the ones you WANT. Meaning: we didn't get the rental car that day. But we did get something, IMHO, a lot more important.
***
This, btw, is Puppy (and my SIL) at the start of our trip:
And he's already causing trouble. Oh, PUPPY.
Here's a summary of the history of Knock, from the shrine's website:
"The Story of Knock began on the 21st August 1879 when Our Lady, St. Joseph and St. John the Evangelist appeared at the south gable of Knock Parish Church. The apparition was witnessed by fifteen people, young and old. From this miraculous Apparition Knock has grown to the status of an internationally recognised Marian Shrine."
You can read all about the shrine and it's legacy here: http://www.knock-shrine.ie/
On our hunt for the elusive automatic rental car, we drove right past the town of Knock. I have heard tales of the shrine and its miraculous healing Holy Water since I was a kid in Catholic school, so I mentioned to Esposo and Uncle V that I'd never been there before. Next thing you know, we're making a pit-stop in Knock.
I am not a regular church-goer, but I am religious. Or maybe spiritual is a better word. Either way, I know what it feels like to look at an endless sky or see a newborn baby, catch my breath and think, "Yes. There is a God. Good job, God. This is awesome." So I guess I expected to experience something similar in a place where multitudes of believers flock in search of miracles.
Right off the bat, however, I felt underwhelmed. As we walked towards the shrine, we passed a block of ramshackle shops that clearly sprung up around the site, selling Souvenirs of Knock: from empty bottles for storing your Holy Water to, I kid you not, cigarette lighters. I know this because my BIL bought one since he'd lost his own. And it seriously read: "A Souvenir of Knock" on it. *shakes head* I was forcefully reminded of one of the Gospels...you know. The one where Jesus drives the merchants from the temple. This was not, I feared, a good sign.
Then there was the site itself. I dunno what exactly I expected, but knowing Ireland the way I do, I at least expected something ancient. Crumbling. Alive with history.
What I did NOT expect was the slick new church (built specially for the Pope's visit) and a literal wall of Holy Water dispensers. The looked like very fancy school hall water coolers. It was so remote and detached. Way too much Man Made and not enough Divine Presence. I shrugged, let the Esposo fill up his plastic "Souvenir from Knock" Holy Water bottles and said I was ready to go.
We walked around the town itself and stopped for a snack: coffee for the grown ups, ice cream for Patoot and a huge lime green ice pop for the dairy-free Munchkin (being dairy- and egg-free in Ireland, btw? HARD). Uncle V finished his coffee and said he'd bring the car around and pick us up so the kids wouldn't have to walk back. So we waited outside the shops at one of the outdoor café tables, Patoot trying to convince us to buy her something, ANYthing, and the Munchkin quietly playing with his lovey, Puppy.
When Uncle V pulled up, there was suddenly a bunch of traffic behind him, so we hopped up fast and rushed into the car. As we drove to the rental place to see if their sole automatic car had come in yet, I mused to myself if our visit to the holy shrine might help us out with our little car issue. We drove along peacefully, Uncle V pointing out local sites and the Esposo commenting. I almost nodded off. Then.
MUNCHKIN: Mommy? Where Puppy? I want Puppy.
Oh. My. God.
Esposo frantically searched the back seat, the front seat, the trunk...nothing. There was no use denying it.
We had left Puppy in Knock.
And we were at LEAST twenty minutes away by now. Uncle V and Esposo were both very pessimistic about our chances of finding Puppy again. But - like my last Puppy-related saga - I was adamant. We HAD to go back for Puppy. We had to at least LOOK. Puppy is the Munchkin's favorite toy on earth. He's not even a mere toy. He's a LOVEY. And I've never seen a kid love his lovey more. The men shook their heads, but turned the car around.
It was a tense twenty minute ride back. All was quiet. In my head, two thoughts were buzzing around:
1. How on EARTH am I going to replace Puppy. IN IRELAND?
2. Please God, please please please, let Puppy still be there. Please. PLEEEEEEZE.
Finally we arrived back in Knock. Like most Irish towns, it isn't very big. Our search would be a short one. As we crested a hill, my eyes frantically scanned the sidewalks for the café tables we had been sitting at.
Please let him be there, God. Please. PLEASE.
There he was, casually flopped in the middle of the aluminum table. Forty minutes later. Puppy.
And it hadn't even rained on him.
I leaped from the still-moving car (ok, not really) and ran to snatch up the Munchkin's beloved, but oft in peril, stuffed dog. And as the Muchkin gave Puppy an epic hug, I glanced up at the cloud-covered sky and thought:
THANK YOU.
So. Do I believe in miracles? I believe in getting the ones you NEED, not necessarily the ones you WANT. Meaning: we didn't get the rental car that day. But we did get something, IMHO, a lot more important.
***
This, btw, is Puppy (and my SIL) at the start of our trip:
And he's already causing trouble. Oh, PUPPY.