SacredRoutine
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“At Evening, God Has Spoken”: A Vespers Hymn on Psalm 110 (76 76 D)
110 has long been one of the traditional psalms of Sunday Vespers. My new hymn, At Evening, God Has Spoken, reflects on that ancient text through the quiet landscapes of the Irish midlands—heathered hills, the Barrow’s waters, and the stillness of evening prayer—resting in Christ our High King through the night. Continue reading
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A Hymn of Soil, Saint, and Sacrament – “Here the fields of Erin whisper” (87 87 D)
This hymn celebrates Christ’s presence in creation, uniting diverse traditions in peace and reconciliation through Eucharistic imagery and Celtic spirituality. Continue reading
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The hum of lines
I wrote a poem this week called The Hum of Lines. It is not a bright poem. It sits in the quiet room. It listens to the machine. It hears the slow, steady movement of blood through borrowed pathways. Dialysis has a soundscape. The hum of the pump. The soft alarms. The rhythm that is… Continue reading
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Writing a Hymn—and Learning Stabilitas Overnight
This hymn didn’t emerge in a chapel. It came overnight. In silence. In storm. In the unbuilt monastery of the mind. “Wild winds rise fierce across the plain,My refuge be.” The imagery came quickly. But the deeper formation came slowly—as most Benedictine things do. I’m part of a Benedictine community without walls. We are dispersed… Continue reading
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🌿 Morning Reflection for 25 February
Inspired by the appointed readings and psalmody The morning opens gently, the way dawn often does in Ireland—grey first, then slowly revealing colour. The psalms speak of trembling bones, weary eyes, and the long nights when the pillow is wet with tears. Anyone who has ever lain awake listening to the rain on a Kildare… Continue reading
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Divinity in Difference: The Window That Says What We’ve Been Trying to Say
Every now and then, an image comes along that says in colour and light what pages of writing have been circling for years. This stained-glass window feels like that. It gathers the heart of NeuroDivine—the essays, the fiction, the hymns, the poetry—and holds them up to the light with one steady claim: Difference is not… Continue reading
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The Pharmacy of Praise
This morning I wrote a hymn about pill boxes and blister packs—about Sundays spent sorting seven small doorways for the week ahead. It’s personal. Andrew and I both live by the rhythm of medicines, colours divided into morning and evening, lids clicked shut in quiet preparation. Sorting tablets isn’t a small thing in our house;… Continue reading
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Stay with me in the waiting.
There are days when Jeremiah’s cry—“My anguish, my anguish!”—feels less like something from long ago and more like the body’s own truth. In the dialysis unit, with the soft beeping of the machines and the hush of people doing their best to get through another session, you can hear that same ache. Jeremiah speaks of… Continue reading
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The Knot of Grace: A Lorica for the Wired Mind
I wrote the hymn in English first. It came out of lived places. Hospital corridors. Strip lighting. The hum of machines. Motorways. Rain over stone. The strange ache of being surrounded and alone. It wasn’t theory. It was my nervous system on paper. There are days when my brain feels like too much input and… Continue reading
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Word. Refuge. Faith.
“Write Your Word Upon Our Hearts” is a hymn rooted in Deuteronomy 11, Psalm 31, Romans 1 and 3, and Matthew 7, the readings for today (Proper 4) in the Church of Ireland. It prays that God’s Word would be inscribed not only on stone, but within our lives—shaping faith, grounding us in Christ’s righteousness,… Continue reading
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Rule. Dawn. Praise.
This hymn and stained-glass image are inspired by Chapter 13 of the Rule of Our Holy Father Saint Benedict, in which he sets forth the reverent ordering of the Divine Office at Lauds on ordinary days. Rooted in the rhythm of psalmody, canticle, Gospel praise, and litany, the work reflects Saint Benedict’s vision of a… Continue reading
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Holy. Queer. Desire.
For many queer people—especially those of us who are neurodivergent—the search for connection has often unfolded in the margins: in late-night conversations, in coded glances, in apps that both liberate and exhaust us. Our longing has been shaped by secrecy, by rejection, by comparison, and by the fierce hope of finally being seen. This hymn… Continue reading
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Grace in humble things
In quiet parks at break of day,Your footsteps go before;You bless the paths we daily tread,The commonplace made more.In sparrow-flight and drifting leaves,In laughter on the green,You show us grace in humble thingsWhere You have always been.In benches worn by waiting hearts,In puddles after rain,You sit with those who long for peaceAnd share their hidden… Continue reading
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Andrew, this is you.
Some love stories are written in grand gestures. Ours has been written in endurance. This Valentine’s Day, I honour fifteen years of partnership with Andrew—and ten years of civil marriage later this year—not because the dates fall now, but because love that has lived this much deserves to be named whenever the heart nudges. Our… Continue reading
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Before Your holy altar
This hymn was written as a prayer of presence and sending — rooted in the Celtic landscape, centered on the Eucharist, and alive with the missionary fire of the saints. It gathers altar, land, and people into one act of worship: Christ present among us, Christ restoring us, Christ sending us forth. May it be… Continue reading
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Healing. Prayer. Hope.
This hymn was written for World Day of the Sick, a day when many pilgrims gather in Lourdes seeking healing, prayer, and hope. While crowds pray at the grotto and walk in candlelight procession, many of us keep the day in quieter places—hospital wards, dialysis units, and our own homes. For me, it is shaped… Continue reading
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Hours. Pump. Grace.
As I begin another week of dialysis, I come as I am—carrying tiredness, hope, and whatever this day holds. This hymn was written in the quiet place where machines hum and my heart keeps its own steady rhythm. It reminds me that Christ is here with me: in the care I receive, in the long… Continue reading
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Shepherd. Host. High King.
This hymn began with a simple wondering: What if Christ doesn’t only meet us at the table, but walks the whole week with us? Faith is rarely confined to sacred hours. It unfolds in Mondays heavy with responsibility, Wednesdays full of noise, Fridays marked by grief, and Saturdays thick with waiting. This hymn traces the… Continue reading
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Claimed. Accompanied. Sent.
I wrote this hymn slowly, paying attention to water. Not water as an idea, but water as something that moves, waits, gathers, seeps, and returns. Water that has weight and sound and temperature. Water that holds memory. Baptism is often talked about as a moment—something that happens and is done. For me, baptism has always… Continue reading
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Courage. Gentleness. Wisdom
This hymn grew out of listening rather than certainty. It brings together two women who never met, yet somehow recognise one another across time and land. Saint Agatha, standing her ground in the hard stone world of Rome, and Saint Brigid, whose holiness took root in hearth-fire, field, and care for ordinary people. One knew… Continue reading
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