The Fighting Irish

This is not a post about football.

My summer assignment is in a parish with religious sisters. Three work full time for the reservation parishes and several others operate in other apostolates around the area. Of the three who work in the parish, two are from Ireland. They have been in the States for a long time now, but this fact has done little to diminish their lilting brogue and their curious manner of saying things. Tuesday afforded me the opportunity to spend the day with one of them. I silently laughed at her all day long. The following episode is but a single vignette among a whole day's worth of chuckles.

Permit me a moment to provide background:

South Dakota has been suffering a drought for the last seven years or so. The people had begun to lose hope that it would ever rain again. The grass had died, the stock dams had dried up, and crops had failed. On the already less than hopeful reservation, desperation was just around the corner. Then, in April, the moisture started coming. Two good snow livened people's spirits. The melt came and went, and May rains broke records over a century old. South Dakota is now green and lush, and what is more, the rains keep coming. Out here, we never complain about the rain.

Tuesday, sister and I traveled to Cherry Creek. Cherry Creek is about 40 miles from Eagle Butte. Luckily, the road is paved. We set out for our destination knowing that it had stormed the night before. Some neighboring towns had lost power due to the high winds. As a result, we expected to see some damage from the storm. We did not expect to learn that four power lines have been blown down. Thus, when we arrived in Chery Creek to lead a grief support group, we did not expect to find the lights out throughout the village, and were dumbstruck to hear that the area had received five inches of rain the night before. We scurried around finding candles to light the meeting hall.

By and by, the members of the group began arriving (an hour late - I will write about reservation time at a later date). Once they had assembled, sister led the group in prayer. It went something like this:

Lard (that's how she pronounces it),
We are gathered here today in your holy name,
and we thank you for the gift of rain you have given us.
We won't complain about the rain, Lard,
but we could do without the problems that it has caused.
It would be a lot more convenient to have this meeting with the lights on,
and it would be some easier to drive without all the mud.
But anyway, that's not the reason we're here.
Bless this group and our conversation,
and bless these women mourning their loved ones.
We ask this in your name.
Amen.