Once upon a time in County Donegal, each Sunday morning, Kathryn would get ready for church. Her mom lined up all twelve of her children and then, one by one, wash each child’s face and comb each one’s hair. Each child would wait patiently in line for his or her turn and then go out and play while the mother finished the rest. One Sunday Kathryn was second in line and anxious to get her turn over with because it would mean nearly a half hour of play time while the others were being washed and combed. Then, just before her turn, her mother noticed that the youngest sister was missing a shoelace and asked Kathryn to go to the bedroom and get one. Not wanting to miss her place in the line and given that her mother did not ask her a second time, she did not go. Her mother said nothing as she combed her hair. When she finished she went out to play.
After playing for ten minutes, however, she felt guilty and went back into the house to get the shoelace for her baby sister. When she entered the mother had just removed her own shoelace and was bent down, putting it into her baby’s sister’s shoe. Felling doubly guilty, she went into her parents’ bedroom and got a shoelace and, as her mother was combing her baby’s sister’s hair, she bent down and put the shoelace into her mother’s shoe. While she was doing this, her mother said nothing but gently stroked her hair.
When Kathryn finished telling the story, somebody asked her what it meant and, rather embarrassed, she said: I don’t know...but it has just stayed with me all these years! A day later, her friend had noticed a button missing from her coat. She realized that she had forgotten to bring any sewing material. Out of nowhere, Kathryn appeared. Are you missing anything? She asked. I forgot to bring thread and a needle. She answered. Immediately, she produced a button, thread and a needle and gave it to her, and disappeared without a word.
The next day at class, her friend confronted her with these words: The button is the shoelace, isn’t it? Yes, she answered, ever since that day her mother stroked her hair, through all those years–and long after she had died–she had this secret covenant with her mother. I go through life supplying what is missing.
Blessing begets blessing. When we are treated gently, gentleness grows in us. We all make an unconscious secret covenant with those who have blessed us, who have stroked our hair gently. To bless is to speak well, especially to those who seldom hear words of affirmation. To bless is to see well, especially those who are invisible. To bless is to pass on well, especially to those whose legacy is harsh and fractured.
Lord, I pray for all my Sonshine Friends who are blessing to this teacher. May all their acts of kindness bring hope and joy to those who are "luchorupan"an Old Irish word meaning "small body" or invisible.
