You couldn’t help noticing the guard standing among the crowd at the memorial service–he stuck out because he kept his hat on!  A guard, or member of An Garda Síochána, is a policeman.  He was the one on call, apparently, because later our lives intersected in tragedy and we got to meet him in person!

(Yes, I’ve been reading some John Grisham stuff, profound literature, that, and like using some Grisham-esque phrases.)


One of the families in our little band of singers arrived home to find their bathroom window smashed.

They had been gone for a maximum of two hours.


They called the guards, their landlord, and their pastor–and since Dan and Barbara were kindly driving us to and from the harbour, we ended up there, too!

The landlord, obviously a local farmer because he was still in his dirty Wellies, came roaring up on his “quad.”  In the midst of a dark time, the quad shone as a beacon of hope.


(Yep, that would be Mr. Grisham again.)


Thank God that nothing seemed to be stolen.  The thief/thieves had opened drawers, checked purses, and opened a wallet, but as far as the family could tell, nothing was missing… except the dear folks were traumatized and I’m sure the children felt horribly insecure!


~09250671

You couldn’t help noticing the guard standing among the crowd at the memorial service–he stuck out because he kept his hat on!  (A guard, or member of An Garda Síochána, is a policeman.)

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