There’s an old green rocker in the corner of the Apple Pi Inn that is good at telling time. Today it says, “Here’s your hat, St. Pat. What’s your hurry?” It invites you to sit awhile and smile at the tiny green teddy bears, the sparkling beads, the hat-tipping leprechaun and the bright eyed saint who knew how to see the mystery of Trinity in the green green fields of home.
This is my Mother’s last hat, decorated by a friend, for the “wearing of the green” to church, or the bank, or wherever there were children. It hung on a clothesline that stretched down the hall, waiting for its day to arrive. It was in good company, with more than forty others that she owned, hung in chronological order, from the 4th of July one with 16 American flags to her Valentine Day’s headgear of cupids armed with charms and arrows.(There was even an Earth Day hat decorated with fast food trash that made you want to recycle it.) The St. Pat hat was waiting its turn to be worn, admired, grinned at, talked about, and photographed with its wearer, a 93 year old talkative elf.
But there’s a time to keep and a time to lose. March 9th 2012 was her last day this side of forever. Her four closest friends donned one of her hats to walk as honorary pallbearers, and placed the St. Patrick hat on her coffin. If you look closely at the picture of the chair you’ll also see the gold shoes she claimed she’d wear when she danced her first jig in heaven.
Christ be with me, Christ within me
Christ behind me, Christ before me
Christ beside me, Christ to win me
Christ to comfort and restore me.