One year ago today, I was flying with my cousin, Kim from Edinburgh, Scotland to Dublin, Ireland. We’d just completed a six-day Rabbie’s bus tour into the Outer Hebrides on the west coast of Scotland. There, on the wondrous Isle of Skye, Kim had scattered her mother’s ashes–her final request, to honor her mother’s McDonald Clan, their roots that were deep in that Scottish soil.

This is the sacred place where Kim carried out that mission to honor her mother.

It had been an intense, exciting, tiring six days and we looked forward to a less-scheduled time in Dublin. Arriving on Aer Lingus, we found a city that was bustling. Our taxi driver apologized for the longer-than-usual ride to our hotel.

“Garth Brooks is in town,” he explained. “The Irish are crazy about him. Filled up the stadium for his three concerts.”

That evening when we went to dinner, you could feel the electricity of excited fans, sporting their cowboy boots and Western hats. It was a stark contrast to the somber gathering of folks on Edinburgh’s Royal Mile as the city waited for Queen Elizabeth to lie in state at St. Giles’ Cathedral. Our journey had started with hearing about her death while waiting to board at the Raleigh-Durham airport. She was the UK’s royalty and Garth Brooks was the US’s royalty–given their response.

Kim and I slowed our pace in Dublin, opting out of a Sunday excursion that we’d paid for; we couldn’t stand the thought of being on a bus for a twelve-hour trip. Instead, we’d spend the day near our hotel, venturing out alone with time to gather ourselves. How refreshing to nap and write in my journal in that hotel room where you could hear the church bells toll from across the street. That evening, we went to dinner down the street and then enjoyed a band at the adjoining bar.

We spent Monday, our final day together, touring the huge Guinness plant and then catching the bus to Trinity College to view the Book of Kells. While I didn’t like the hoppy bitterness of Guinness beer, I loved the tasting room, with its 360 degree glass surround view of Dublin. I’d thought we’d see more of the Book of Kells, but only a few pages were there for viewing. What was more impressive at Trinity College was the architecture of that library.

On Tuesday, Kim flew back to the States and I took a train and then a bus to village of Doolin on the west coast, Atlantic side. The four days there would be my ‘solo journey,’ my own pilgrimage that was needed after being with others.

I knew of Doolin because my friend had visited because of it being the place of authentic Irish music. I’d reserved a room at Riverside B & B that was supposed to be in easy walking distance of the village.

When I arrived, it was obvious that the community I imagined was not like the reality; it was a mile walk from the bus stop in town, by a narrow-lane-road with cars that sped down the winding road at a fast pace. A ‘stranger in my path’ at the information center, saw my distress when I realized there was no local bus or taxi service– only private drivers that were hard to schedule. How grateful I was that she took me to the B & B. The owner told me the number for a private taxi driver who could take me to the village for dinner.

I had a fabulous dinner at the pub of their most popular dish of lamb shank and potatoes— always potatoes. Afterwards, I walked around the village and observed the sun setting on the green hills that gently sloped down to the ocean.

When I returned to the B & B, I felt a wave of exhaustion and doubt; it wasn’t unusual for me to feel that way on the first night of a solo journey. During the trip into the Hebrides, while I was joined by my cousin, I felt deeply alone when I watched the couples in our group. It was my first trip as a single woman and part of me felt at a loss, untethered to marriage or to a significant relationship. I listened to a contemporary Christian song, “I Will Praise you in the Storm” by Casting Crowns. It had been a go-to during the challenge of navigating divorce. In my room, I experienced a combination of lament and worship, letting go of the darkness that had enveloped me.

The next day, after a good night’s sleep and a full B & B breakfast, I headed out for my long walk to the village and on to a hiking trail I was anxious to experience: The Cliffs of Moher Coastal Path, part of the Wild Atlantic Way. I’d never walked by sea cliffs and the trail did not disappoint.

That afternoon, I rode the bus to the Visitor Centre. A slanting, chilly rain set in and I could barely see the cliffs through the fog. I left early for the return bus into the village– the last one that would go that day. Walking in front of the ticket office, I spotted a worker who appeared to be counting the money for the day. I waved and made a comment about the weather, and later, he opened his window to talk with me.

His name was Patrick and he and I had an easy conversation, talking about his work, my trip, and his plan to meet his girlfriend in the New York City during his upcoming vacation. I shared with him about my solo journey, and then that went in to talking about now being a single woman; he’d was ten years my junior and had gone through divorce. We shared stories about our dating experiences — the strangeness of online dating and how he eventually met his girlfriend who was from the village.

“I didn’t think I’d have someone again,” he said. “It happened when I least expected it.”

We talked a while longer and people began to come over to the bus stop. He closed up and came out of the booth to lock one of the access areas. He walked over to me and gave me a hug and said, “I think you’ll find someone, when you least expect it.”

I appreciated his good wishes, the Irishman in my path who had offered words of encouragement.

Today, marks the seventh month of dating John. I had no idea the he was up ahead on my path last September. Like all of us, I don’t know the future. When I focus on the future, on what might be, what could happen– it usually leads to anxiety. But when I focus on the present, taking one step of faith along the path before me, which is how I think we’re intended to live, then I am able to enjoy the journey.

When I walked that sea cliffs path in Doolin, I had to focus on what was just in front of me. There were times when the trail narrowed and to take a wrong step could end in a fall. When I wanted to take in the stunning views, I had to stop and take a moment to absorb that present. I couldn’t miss that view by looking ahead.

Now, my hope is that I’ll keep on that same kind of path, staying in the present, stopping when I need to absorb the beauty around me. I wish for you the same.

Blessings,

Connie