blurred lines


There was a point after church yesterday when I was talking to one man from South Korea, another one from Malaysia and yet another from India. This would not have been my experience of church growing up in rural Tyrone.

I know that there had also been a couple of men from Turkey who are learning English and had come along. Then there are all the Africans from different parts of that huge continent that make up the majority of the church.
I don’t know whether I am coming or going.
Galway seems to be that type of city. Always in flux with visitors, tourists and students.
It could be a bit overwhelming.  How do you put down roots in a city that seems to be so fluid?

Now that I think about it perhaps that explains the need to paint the repaint the house we’re living in and get things planted in the garden ASAP, to get the curtains down and new ones up. There is a need to somehow change it from a house to a home.  In a city with so much flux and movement it feels like having a place to call home is important, a place where things are familiar and comfortable.
Part of me feels guilty that I can’t just make do with the colour/patterns of the carpet in the hall and landing. There are refugees that have slept the night in tents across the world. There are people who would love to live in this area near the sea and in the west of Ireland. Be grateful for what you have and stop complaining about the look of a mahogany chest. Stop driving the wheels of consumerism! Stop wasting the churches money!
But living in our last house nearly drove me crazy. It had no natural light. We made do with paper thin short curtains that didn’t block out the street light depriving me off many hours sleep.  It was hard to heat so we froze.

There is also the weird dynamic at play that it is also a ‘manse‘.
So it is our house but it is also the churches house. They are your landlord. In another sense they are  your landlord who is also your spouses boss.  Blurred lines.


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