When life isnt limited by punctuation and grammer

Being succinct has never been my strong suit, so I have been avoiding writing about my experiences, as how do I sum up, yet relate all I am learning, seeing, doing; I have therefore been procrastinating writing anything thus compounding the problem ( kinda like this sentence).


Ahem-the list of the events of last two weeks:


A group of 20somethings came to CRC for a weekend of connection. Connecting with God and each other. I was able to pray and be a part of their services, spending time getting to know them. It was neat to be able to see what was similar in their lives and interactions to the US ( the boys constantly jump on, jostle and joke with each other, and make a drum out of anything - makes me miss my brothers-, same worship songs, worries and questions) and what was different ( how they pray, their slang, everyone lives at home until they marry)


I climbed one of their Mourne mountains- Slieve Martin. It was all that you hope for from a rugged Irish countryside. I could see the ocean on two sides, I forget i'm on a island, even though there are many palm trees ( no really!).


Spent the week reading, praying,walking, being alone and with the lovely 65/70 somethings getting beaten badly at scrabble, cleaning and praying.


28 men recovering from drug addiction came for the weekend for seminar of sorts. I mostly served tea, smiled, washed dishes, set tables and smiled some more. Of course I was dieing to know their lives stories, but I only heard second hand. There were several intense moments I witnessed, such as a leader of the IRA, realizing the speaker used to be a high ranking orange man, and both wanting forgiveness from each other, crying, embracing; both huge tattooed, worn hard men. Everyone was in tears. The other was listening to them all sing praise songs. a melody of male voices who embody what it means to be saved, and in such celebration of it... I really haven't wrapped my mind around watching that... it seemed too intimate to just be in the same room.

My last couple of days I spent walking and cleaning. I walked to the memorial for the man that burned the white house down, it looks exactly like the Washington memorial in DC. The guy was born in Rostrover. I thought it was quite funny; its very well maintained.

So those are my list of run on sentences of the happenings; although it doesn't capture my own experience in the slightest.

Then there was Belfast...