While driving on an unlit rural lane in Northern Ireland in the middle of a moonless night, my husband, son, and I were startled by a unit of the local constabulary. They seemed to materialize out of the darkness. Stopping us abruptly and shining a blinding flashlight into our faces, an officer asked us a series of terse questions. Nearly hidden in the roadside underbrush, a younger man trained his automatic weapon on us until the questioning was complete and his senior officer waved us on. Not until breakfast the next morning did we learn that another brutal, politically motivated murder had taken place on those lonely roads we had traveled.
Our son's decision to attend a university in Northern Ireland had come as a complete surprise to us. At first, we didn't know how to respond. But it was an unusual opportunity to pursue the precise degree he wanted. We had been praying and listening for guidance in the next step of his education. This seemed to be it. But this midnight interrogation on our first visit forced us to think about the broader ramifications of his choice. The crying needs of the Irish "problem" had seemed tragic but somewhat distant and unconnected to me until our son decided to take up residence in the middle of it.
I turned to God and let the Bible speak to me about the absolute authority of God-empowered peace that had stilled murderous quarrels, healed long-standing wounds, and united broken families and peoples centuries ago. This time of prayer became a daily practice of affirming that God's attentive care is everywhere, meeting the needs of the people on all sides of the conflict in Northern Ireland.
