Sunday, March 15, 2015
An Irish Blessing
May those who love us, love us,
And for those who don't love us,
May God turn their hearts;
And if He can't turn their hearts,
May He turn their ankles,
So we will know them by their limping.
This Irish Blessing came in my email on St. Patrick's Day of 2003 from P.J. Hamel, editor of The Baker's Catalog.
It is difficult to know who the enemy is. I don't think I consider a particular group of people as being my enemy when my greatest enemy is most often myself.
One thing I do know. My enemy is someone who would purposely hurt me or mine--whatever race, gender, or creed he or she happens to be.
I dislike mean people, period.
I remember being in Wild Oats soon after 9/11 and seeing a tall fellow shopper, everything but her eyes and hands covered by a black headdress and robe. She was holding the hand of a cute little toddler. He was darling in a Tennessee Titans blue football shirt.
I was certainly not afraid of her. On the contrary, I smiled at her and her eyes crinkled up at the corners as she looked back at me. We both looked down at her little boy, bouncing along in his tennis shoes.
The only things I am still afraid of in the supermarkets here, thankfully, are purse snatchers and the Moosetracks ice cream that emits a siren call.
But as far as purse snatchers and terrorists go, well, it would be nice if God turned a few ankles.