The joy of walking
Margaret-Mary Flynn
Jesus’ invitation to his disciples to ‘follow him’, was figurative and literal. We too walk in Jesus’ footsteps.
READ MORE
Golden moments
Margaret-Mary Flynn
Some memories, people and places, have an extra special hold on our hearts.
READ MORE
Moments of peace
Margaret-Mary Flynn
Throughout our days and weeks there are little scenes of peace – we just need to recognise them.
READ MORE
In search of more
Margaret-Mary Flynn
God’s love is always there – through the changing seasons, good times and bad.
READ MORE
Places of faith
Margaret-Mary Flynn
Churches, old and new, are central to our community and personal faith.
READ MORE
Feeling good by doing good
Margaret-Mary Flynn
Charity is about doing what you can to ensure others get their chance to have ‘something more’.
READ MORE
A letter to Our Lady
Margaret-Mary Flynn
After a difficult year we approach Christmas with hope in our hearts and trust in you, Mother of God.
READ MORE
Filling in the outline
Margaret-Mary Flynn. 04 May 2020
Classic texts speak to us from throughout the ages, sharing pain, sorrow and joy. They remind us we’re not alone.
READ MORE
It's grand being a grandparent
Margaret-Mary Flynn
Grandparenting is not always easy, but it is always rewarding.
READ MORE
Peace I leave you, my peace I give you
Margaret-Mary Flynn. 01 March 2018
As Autumn approaches, we welcome the coolness of mornings, and softer light of evenings. It is a time of shifting perspectives, as our Lenten journey continues towards Easter. We pray for transformed hearts, 'to give and not to count the cost.'
READ MORE
Peace is hand-crafted
Margaret-Mary Flynn. 01 March 2018
My grandson and his grandfather are in the shed. Heads together, small hands and large search through the box of wooden offcuts, pulling out random pieces and deciding on suitability. 'We're making a car, Grandma,' the little boy announces as I arrive.
READ MORE
A golden and fragrant glow
Margaret-Mary Flynn. 10 March 2017
Every year at this time, a case of clingstone peaches would arrive at the back door of my grandma’s house. She would set up a table and a couple of wooden kitchen chairs in the shade of the willow tree, furnished with bowls and paring knives, and rows of the tall cylindrical glass preserving jars that she used in her Fowler’s Vacola Preserving outfit, her pride and joy
READ MORE
