Curly-Haired Irish Girls

The Irish girl appears at first glance to be naïve, flirty, and free-spirited.

She loves having a good time and will leap boundaries in search of adventure.

Adorned with the sparkle of smiling eyes and a mop of wayward curls,

She frequently calls upon wit and humor to diffuse the heavier moments of  life.

If you find yourself lucky enough to win and keep an Irish girl’s heart,

She won’t float off with the wind chasing rainbows for greener grass or pots o’gold.

Valuing true love above all other treasures of this world,

She believes it's never good for the heart, health, or fortune to say no to Love.
Upon discovering this love she will be inclined to hold onto and cherish it forever.

However, she will only accept rejection and defeat in it so many times,

Once her heart has been broken or love says no to her,
She eventually learns to reconcile, and that letting go will salvage herself.

She can and will love fearlessly across the divides of time and distance,

For she's been taught by the example of cherished kin that loving and living with all her heart,

Means accepting whatever comes her way with bowed grace and dignity.

She knows placing her bet against the odds in love is never scorned by the Irish, only deeply respected.
And finds there is vital necessity in the sweeping change that
Leaves waves of angst and regret behind while stopping the growth of stone over her heart.

The Irish girl learns to value the truth from trial and error, even when it's heartbreaking.

She discovers it will protect who you are while creating who she will become.

She’s tremblingly aware her heart is hanging out for the entire world to see.

Yet, is bolstered by knowing if she wins or looses, she will survive every round,

Because to be Irish is to be imbued with a cheeky disposition and smart humor

That allows her to firmly embrace trials while seeking joy around the next bend in every road.

She tends to pour herself cheerfully, but not naively into others without reservation

And her happiness spills out with curb-hopping and other fickle whimsies.

However beware! Her intensity is not limited to the realms of lighter moments.

For she lives her life similar to that of the wild horse infused with unbridled passion.

If you rouse her anger, she’s prone to hurling litanies of curse words faster than her prayers.

And splitting her heart will send rivers of tears flowing directly into your ocean.

She requires strength and loyalty to ground her floaty, free spiritedness,

But won't take kindly to having her intelligence diminished or passions smothered.

If you attempt to extinguish her life fire with perceived or intended cold cruelty,

She’ll warn you before sounding war against you with hot fires of raging fury,

Then she will pray that God will soften her heart and lure yours away from the fight,

For goodness grows by the fire with her and she's not inclined to be a martyr on all battlefields.

The Irish girl will not live without the passion she requires for her life fire to burn.

And she may warn you rather abruptly if the fire at home needs fuel or the well begins to run dry,

She will willingly burn what she has and doesn't have to give for you and herself if she must. 

Her dreams and heart were born amidst the storms of life and both hold true in heavy winds,

And will have no regrets tethering her dreams to yours if she sees you've lost your way.

She found she's rather good at holding hands and seeking lost treasures in all sorts of weather.

She is a strong believer of second chances,

And will be the first to wholeheartedly admit she’s needed them a time or two.

When you hold onto her heart with sincerity you’ll receive many of them freely.

Those who cause her unintentional hurt will be quickly forgiven,

But if you dare to take advantage of her vulnerability or loves without honor,

She’ll pray God mercifully turns your heart before your ankle so you'll not be seen limping forever.

The Irish Girl can and will draw lines in the sands of time.

She knows exactly who she is and will be sure you know who she is too.

Fighting for her family rises above all else in life, including herself.

Mama bear or an army of ghosts are no match for the secure faith of the Irish Mother.

For she comes to the fray donned with Patrick’s Breastplate and her grandmother’s rosary in hand.

She's prepared to perish in such battles because she's certain Jesus has already won The War.

The Irish girl is certain to be an emotional rollercoaster you encounter on the banister of life,

And you won't escape the experience of extreme highs and lows with her at your side.

Her compassion will always offer you a chance to jump off before the ride begins,
Because she recognizes dignity is the key to staying firmly planted upon one’s horse.

She won't be irresponsible with the exposure of your armored affections,

But will never hesitate to fiercely protect her own affections from your irresponsibility.

Despite all of her strength and loyalty in love,

Her greatest strength is always going to be her greatest weakness.

Her heart definitely has a mind of its own even though it's been wired to her own mind.

She's learned from repeated failure to kneel and toss out pride in the muck and mire,

Because that is where hearts learn to flow with grateful love for Jesus, failures, and forgiveness.

She's certain God sent confession as a gift to save the world from flaming hearts like hers.

The Irish girl knows how to belong to herself and accepts God will send her where she belongs.

She doesn't fear the hanging of laundry with friends or looking at it for more than a moment,

And may even call it pretty because dirt can be washed away without changing the weave of the fabric.

She knows it's important to own up to her flaws before she calls you out on yours,

And acknowledges that despite all of her graceful efforts to be dignified and queenly,

She's simply a wayward lass who longs to roam the countryside long after the dinner bell rings.

If you have the good fortune of being cherished in the golden heart of an Irish Girl, 

She’ll consider you and yours as close as kin and always back you up with prayer.

If she calls you A Chara, she will be the truest of that tender endearment.

Her only price is honesty, respect, fair warnings, and the ownership of your mistakes.

She’ll never require life with you to be a delicate bed of thorn-free, hybrid flowers.

She happens to have a strong preference for the wild variety she may prick her finger upon.

In loving memory of my grandmother, Mary Jane Noon Hurne and great-grandmother, Mable Flanagan Noon.
The Irish Women who will always be cherished in our hearts.

HAPPY ST. PATRICK'S DAY!

The Lesson

     My Dad used to give us a lot of chores to do.  Picking apples perched on extension ladders, pulling weeds, picking rocks, shoveling snow, butchering chickens, stacking wood, and taking out the compost.  That is only the short list.  We did not like it.  We bulked, we sulked, we dawdled and drug our feet with the dramatic expertise only a child can display in the face of good old-fashioned work.  For me, there was nothing more dreaded than the stomach churning threat of forced time in the corn field picking rocks or pulling weeds.  That hung over my head all summer, heavier than the oppressive cloud of mid-August humidity.  Banished to the buzzing heat in worn-out sneakers and mismatched clothes from some hand-me-down bag, I would come up with a lengthy list of fun things I could be doing, while convincing myself I was the only girl in the world, except my sister, stuck in a field doing the two-handed yank of quackgrass and topping dandelions that were bound to haunt me with their regular reappearance forever.   There was no getting out of it.  Weed pulling and rock picking were my parent's favorite method of diffusing negative attitudes and yanking out rebellion by the roots.  

     As a child I felt the sting of punishment, but what I didn't see was that God was also using those moments to actively teach me deeper life lessons.  The ones He knew I would need for the rest of my life.  Those sweltering summer days in the corn field clanking stones into an old backhoe bucket or finger-numbing mornings bracing myself and shovel against drifted banks of snow were part of my physical preparation for the challenges and obstacles of life.  Training my body, mind, and heart to lay down physical connections to my soul so I would have a infrastructure of active coping mechanisms when things around me appeared out of whack. 

     My Dad never caved to murmured complaints or allowed us to drag our sneakers in defiance on the gravelly driveway.  He appreciated the value of simple labor when it came to developing perseverance, curbing fear, and clearing room for new growth.  He made certain that the seeds were planted in our minds and hearts even if the shoots of that did not take off until years later.  Like my Dad, I think God does the same thing.  He points us in the right direction, and goes about setting us to certain tasks designed to teach us.  He challenges us to stretch and grow and asks us to take on simple tasks we sometimes find meaningless and repetitive. As adults we can find ourselves guilty of reverting to dragging our feet and balking at what our Heavenly Father sets us to.  However, if we get our bodies committed to the tried and true method of simple physical labor we can discover our minds and hearts will follow suit. As an adult, I love pulling weeds.  There is nothing more satisfactorily simple than a vigorous session of yank and pull while talking to God about whatever negativity is trying to lodge itself inside me.  The physical act of pulling and tugging helps aligns my mind to take over easing it out of my heart. 

     I am so thankful for the lessons God taught me through my parents and life on a small farm.  As a parent I am amazed at how many simple opportunities God gives us to teach our children about Him and coping with life.  Some of those lessons require stretching out of our comfort zone and are hidden from view.  However, if we look back at our own childhoods, we can find lessons designed by Him to mirror the challenges encountered in everyday life.  Simple tasks like weed pulling, shoveling snow, washing dishes, sweeping, and gardening can be turned into life lessons for our children to carry through their walk with Him.  They are tried and true methods of teaching them active, physical ways to connect to God with heart and mind while working out the internal kinks that are bound to cramp things up along the way.  Let us not neglect to teach our children some simple ways to remove obstacles, listen, alter their perspectives, and count their blessings.

The Lesson

I told you to climb.

Did you catch sight of it?

Clenching the ladder

With fear-narrowed eyes

I set it for you

At the very end of the branch

Under dense cover

So fingertip faith

Learned to hold tightly

Before grasping the prize.

I sent you for it.

Were you able to find it?

Chewing stranded hair

As spinning wheels jammed

I placed it there

On the other side of the vice

Next to the grinder

So developing minds 

Learned to carefully listen

Before picking up the hammer.

I made you go out.

Could you finish the task?

Huffing mumbled clouds

Against drifted icy banks

I sent them for you 

Along the rutted trail

Down the bank

So stubborn hearts 

Learned how to dig out

Before carving new paths.

I pointed you to them.

Were you able to pull?

Squatting in the dirt

With rising summer-baked ire

I put them there for you

In between tender shoots

Strangling vital life

So rooted hurt

Learned to clear obstacles

Before harvesting the fruit.

I told you to do it.

Could you finish the task?

Brushing splintery debris

With achingly numbed fingers

I dumped it there for you

On the icy concrete slab

Amidst dismal pelting sleet

So bound hardening hearts

Learned to thaw and melt

Before pouring out love.

I called you to it.

Did you find them?

Reaching into smarting spaces

Swiping hands across stained cheeks

I grew them for you.

Scattered in tangled brambles

Hidden from view

So busy hands

Learned to alter perspectives

Before counting their blessings.

Shaunda M. Eck