My Irish Heart

" Teach me Your way, O Lord, and I will walk in your Truth; give me an undivided heart, that I may fear Your name." [Psalm 86:11].

I grew up not really understanding that I was Irish. This gave me a divided heart. It is an awful thing not to know who you truly are.

My mother was English and she raised us that way. My father spoke endlessly about "our English heritage" and about how the British were superior in every way.. Yes, we are part English, but she and my father neglected to talk about the Irish Catholic side of the family.  They were too numerous to mention and an "inconvenient truth".

If the Irish side of the family were mentioned, this was met with silence and eye rolls and sighs, and the subject was quickly changed. I learned that it was not okay to be Irish. I figured out pretty quickly that we were to pretend that we were not Irish. We were supposed to "pass".


When I was a little girl, my freckles would deepen in the summer. I would ask my mother where they came from? She would tell me, "From your Nana." I would cry, "Make them go awa-aay!" When I got older, as a young woman, I used to try to straighten my thick, curly hair with gel and a curling iron and broad brush strokes and a hair dryer. My hair would not "cooperate". I thought there was something wrong with my hair.


I grew to love scones and dark breakfast tea, salmon, new potatoes and spring peas; stone castles, tiny cottages, fragrant green meadows. I loved these before I knew they were Irish. How did I know to love these? I think one's culture is embedded in one's soul. I thought there was something wrong with me for loving these things. Essentially, I was blaming myself for being Irish.

Growing up, I could not be English, as I was told that I was. I just did not "feel it" inside. Neither was I to be Irish, that was not allowed. So I became Nothing. There grew a deep hole in my psyche.

Years later, as an adult, my great aunt studied me at a family reunion. She said to her daughter about me, "She has a lost look." Then, a dear friend told me, years after she had first met me, "You look like you cannot be yourself." And I thought I was faking it so well!

When you lose your culture, you lose your heart, your soul. You lose a shared history, you lose a physical landscape, you lose foods, songs, architecture, you even lose your faith or religious traditions.

There is such a deep, dark hole in my soul, I have found myself wondering in recent years, who or what could posssibly fill it? And the answer has come to me: "Only God is big enough to fill it."

This friend of mine who said that I looked like I could not be myself? She would tell me, "God wants us to be ourselves."  At the time, I thought that was hopelessly childish and naive. It turns out that she was right!

I have done a lot of work in recent years, trying to piece myself back together. It is painstaking work. The first thing I did was to try to reclaim my faith. To me, that was the greatest loss of all. As soon as I could say to myself, 'I AM Irish', my relationship with God came flooding to the forefront. I chose a church and I converted. I gave myself permission to be myself, at least with God.

I have learned that our culture is in our heart. Like our faith, it comes from God. Like our faith, no one can obliterate it, but we must pay attention to it, in order for it to flourish.

It is tremendously damaging, even traumatic, for one's heart to be divided culturally. There are Americans who say that we must all be only American, not Irish- American or African- American or Italian- American etc. These folks would say, 'If you love Ireland so much, why don't you go back there?' This is so harsh.

I do agree that we must all unite as Americans. And this is one of the most patriotic countries in the world. But unless you are Native American, we all come FROM somewhere. If we do not remember our roots, we are lost. With no cultural identity, we begin to twist into a downward spiral of depair. I know that I did.


Who we are, ethnically, culturally, is a gift from God!  It is never necessary to defend our looks, our culture, our ethnicity, our country of origin, to anyone. And if we deny these, we deny our gifts, we deny our strengths, we deny God!

The Irish wear a symbol called a Claddagh. It has two hands and one heart in the center. The two hands represent one hand in the Old World, one in the New World. But there is a a reason why there is only one heart. Because a heart divided against itself is a broken heart!

I have readers in 6 continents and all over the world. This St. Patrick's Day, I pray that you will teach your children who they really are! Whoever it is that you are, North American, South American, Eastern European, Western European, Asian, African, Middle Eastern-- God made you exactly as you are!  He wants you to be fully yourself, with no apologies and no self condemnation.


Perhaps someday, I will travel to Ireland. I will sip that dark breakfast tea, I will nibble on a scone, I will wander country lanes, and chance upon cottages or castle ruins. Perhaps I will find the Irish side of me there, in that green countryside.  But I am beginning to think that I do not need to even leave home for that. If I allow myself to be who God made me to be, I will discover the Irish in my heart.

God, teach me the Truth about myself, about how I am wonderfully and fearfully made in Your eyes. Give me an undivided heart, as I discover and cherish my true self, as you meant me to be!


Happy St. Patrick's Day! Eric Go Bragh! [Ireland Forever!]

[Related posting: "St. Patrick's Day", March, 16, 2011].

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