“This is a Serendipity Garden because it always surprises me.”
Aidan smiled as he said this while sitting with Margaret and me around the wooden kitchen table, eating Margaret’s freshly baked bread and rhubarb pie and drinking tea.
His words captured perfectly what I had always felt when visiting his beautiful garden. Aidan spends hours weeding, digging, trimming and caring for the flowers, plants and bushes. He tends everything faithfully, but he does not try to control what will happen next. He prepares the soil, plants and nurtures what is growing—and then leaves room for nature to surprise him.
The results are everywhere: flowers bloom, plants reach toward the light, and new combinations of color and texture emerge with each season.
I love simply being there, watching fluffy clouds drift overhead, feeling the gentle breeze and taking in the garden’s changing beauty.
As I listened to Aidan, I realized that his Serendipity Garden offered the perfect image for my pilgrimage through Ireland.
My sister-in-law Nancy and I had carefully planned an itinerary: places to visit, family and friends to see, trains to catch, hotels to find and journeys to make. We had prepared the soil, so to speak.
But grace had its own plans.
It followed our itinerary—and then ignored it completely!
Again and again, the Holy One appeared in unexpected places and through people I had never met before. Alongside precious visits with family and friends came surprising encounters with strangers who suddenly felt like kindred spirits.
Ireland reminded me that life itself is a pilgrimage. We can make our plans and faithfully tend the garden entrusted to us, but we cannot predict what will bloom.
And perhaps that is part of the wonder.
The sacred keeps appearing right in front of us, often where we least expect it.
Traveling Light and Receiving Grace
As I began the part of my pilgrimage that I would travel on my own by train, the Serendipity Garden began blooming almost immediately.
As I attempted to wrestle my two “small” suitcases up the steps onto the train, a mysterious helping hand suddenly appeared and lifted them aboard. I barely had time to say thank you.
When I reached my seat, another angel arrived in the form of a young woman. Without my asking, she lifted one suitcase onto the overhead shelf and carried the other to the designated luggage space.
At this point I began to wonder: Am I actually traveling alone—or has Ireland assigned me a team of guardian angels specializing in luggage?
When we arrived in Portlaoise, the young woman retrieved my cases for me. Then another kind man appeared and carried both suitcases down two flights of stairs.
By now, the message from the universe was becoming embarrassingly clear.
I may think I am a pilgrim, but apparently I am a pilgrim with baggage!
The spiritual lesson seemed obvious:
A true pilgrim travels lightly.
A true pilgrim trusts that what she really needs will be provided.
And a true pilgrim probably does not require three complete strangers to transport her belongings from one end of the journey to the other!
But there was another, deeper lesson.
Pilgrimage is not only about learning to carry less. It is also about learning to receive—to allow ourselves to be surprised by goodness and to recognize grace in the helping hands of strangers.
That day, grace looked like a hand reaching for my suitcase, a young woman quietly helping without being asked, and a man carrying my luggage down the stairs in Portlaoise.
These strangers were among the first unexpected blossoms in my Serendipity Garden. They reminded me that sometimes we prepare for a journey by deciding what to carry. But perhaps we also prepare by becoming willing to receive what others unexpectedly offer along the way.
Note to self: On my next pilgrimage, pack half as much—and leave twice as much room for grace!
And to the wonderful strangers who helped this pilgrim and her excessive baggage along the way:
Go raibh míle maith agaibh—thank you a thousand times!
Little did I know that the trains ahead would bring more surprises—and that some of the most memorable gifts of my pilgrimage would come through people I had never expected to meet.
Kindred Spirits on the Train to Galway
Two of the most delightful blossoms in my Serendipity Garden appeared while I was traveling to Galway.
On the train, I met two kindred spirits, Geraldine and Veronica from County Kildare—Brigid’s land. We began talking, and our conversation carried us all the way to Galway.
They shared wonderful stories of faith and family that touched my heart.
They were delighted to learn that I had written about women saints and healing prayers for everyday life. We exchanged information so they could find my work. From there, our conversation turned to the Roman Catholic Women Priests movement, which was new to them.
Their response surprised and delighted me:
“Could you come and say Mass in Kildare?”
Now there is an invitation that would make St. Brigid smile.
I could almost hear her in the Communion of Saints saying, “It’s about time.”
What began as an ordinary train journey had suddenly become a sacred conversation.
I have always felt a special connection with Brigid of Kildare—a woman whose spirituality joined contemplation and action, hospitality and justice, Earth and Spirit.
And here I was, traveling through Ireland and unexpectedly meeting two women from Brigid’s own county who were inviting me to celebrate Mass in Brigid’s land!
An Unexpected Encounter at a crosswalk on Eyre Square
When I finally reached my hotel in Eyre Square, I left my suitcases behind in at last. For once, they were going nowhere—and neither was anyone being asked to carry them.
I then set out to explore Galway.
That was when another unexpected encounter unfolded.
As I stood at a crosswalk, a woman suddenly called out:
“Bridget Mary!”
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For a moment I looked around, wondering, “How does anyone know me here? Have my suitcases become famous already?”
She told me she followed me on Facebook and thanked me for my work supporting women priests. She also shared that she had spent her life working in the Church and now felt called to be a deacon.
There we were—two women at a Galway crosswalk, speaking about women’s call to ordained ministry.
Perhaps the Spirit really does work at intersections.
Her friend took a photograph to mark the moment. It was one of those graced encounters—kindred spirits meeting unexpectedly in the heart of the city—where the Holy Spirit seems to whisper, “Pay attention. This matters.”
My First Hen Party
In Galway, later that evening, I passed several restaurants and pubs and found myself at An Púcán. The sight of it brought back fond memories. I had visited years ago with my Dad, and later returned with my brother Sean and my sister-in-law Nancy. Walking in felt like stepping into these happy moments.
A band was playing sixties and seventies music—my era—so my feet were already tapping.
Nearby, a bride-to-be and her friends were celebrating a hen party. The bandleader invited them onto the dance floor, and up they went.
I was sitting quietly , still waiting to order, when one of the women looked over, beckoned, and invited me to join them.
Before I could think twice, I was on the dance floor.
There I was—a wandering “pilgrim”in Galway who had started the day in search of crafts, music, and perhaps a little cheesecake—now dancing with a bride-to-be and her friends at my first Irish hen party.
As we danced, I learned the wedding will be in October, and one of the women mentioned she had visited Florida. Small world indeed.
And what a delightful serendipity.
It struck me afterward that pilgrimage is not just about sacred sites, ancient churches, quiet prayer, or deep reflection. Sometimes the sacred journey includes a delicious slice of biscotti cheesecake, street musicians playing an Irish reel, a pub filled with family memories, or a stranger inviting you onto the dance floor.
Perhaps the Divine Presence does not only whisper, “Be still and know.”
Sometimes She says, “Get up and dance!”
So here is another lesson from my Irish pilgrimage:
Be open to the unexpected invitations that bring you joy.
We can become so focused on where we are going that we miss the grace unfolding right beside us in the most unexpected places. Serendipity invites us to loosen our grip on the itinerary and allow ourselves to be surprised by the people we meet along the way.
Joy often arrives without an appointment.
And sometimes the Spirit doesn’t wait for you to be ready—or even to finish ordering your drink.
She simply reaches out through a stranger and says:
“Come join the dance!”
And when that happens, my advice is simple:
Get up and dance.
The Spirit is alive—and She loves to dance with us!
Kylemore Abbey
My time at Kylemore Abbey was meant to be a quiet retreat in Connemara, with silence, prayer, and long walks by the lake. Instead, I found crowds of visitors.
At first, it felt like a disruption. Yet over time, I began to see the place differently.
The landscape, the Benedictine presence, and the movement of visitors formed a single living reality.
What I expected to be a time for quiet prayer became deeper reflection.
Kylemore reminded me that contemplation is not escape. It is the ability to recognize the sacred within life as it is. Creation itself becomes a sacrament—mountains, water, rain, flowers, people, silence, and song all belonging together.
Eucharist in an Inclusive Community in Dublin
One of the most moving spiritual experiences of my Serendipity Pilgrimage was celebrating liturgy with the 72 Community in Dublin.
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See liturgy link: https://bridgetmarys.blogspot.com/2026/07/liturgy-for-21st-sunday-in-ordinary.html?m=1 |
For me, the heart of Eucharist is a community gathered around a table.
The women began the liturgy by bringing into the circle the people they carried in their hearts. One member, Jo, shared that we are all part of a circle of giving and receiving compassion and mercy within the Great Mystery of outpouring Love.
This intimate gathering offered me a glimpse of what a caring community not only looks like, but feels like!
Like a seed breaking through the soil, this community reveals something new and ancient at the same time: a vibrant community where every voice matters, and where all are nourished and uplifted at the table.
It may look small compared with the institutional Church.
But so does a seed compared with a garden.
And yet the whole garden is already hidden within it.
The Garden of Family and Friendship
Nancy’s thoughtful planning helped make this Serendipity Pilgrimage possible.
During the first week, my brother Sean drove us across Ireland as we visited cousins and explored places such as Tramore, Cobh, Adare and Knock.
There were meals around tables, stories of years gone by, photographs, laughter, hugs and memories shared with Noreen, Louise, Saoirse, Tom, Gary, Thomas, Carly, Aida, Kate, Evelyn, Eamon, Mary, Seamus, Lizzie, Liz, Clare, Elaine, John, Chloe, Keeva, Cian, Margaret, Aidan and other beloved Irish family members and a wonderful conversation with two friends and leaders in ministry in Dublin -Sr. Kay Mulhall, a Brigidine Sister and Colm Holmes, a coordinator in We Are Church International.
These encounters reminded me that serendipity does not always mean meeting someone new.
Sometimes grace is discovering something new in someone we have loved and respected for years.
The two weeks I spent traveling on my own became another sacred journey—one I will always remember.
And finally, I am grateful for Tony and Lilian McCarthaigh’s generous hospitality. I stayed in their Dublin home with Graciela, a journalist from Brazil who is studying English and who kindly helped orient me to the Rialto area and to the Dublin bus routes.
Even finding the right bus can become part of a pilgrimage!
Trusting the Garden
Aidan’s Serendipity Garden has become a way of understanding life.
Perhaps each of us is a garden where the Holy One’s creative work continues.
Seeds have been planted within us throughout our lives—by parents and grandparents, teachers and friends, communities and strangers, joys and sorrows, successes and failures.
Some bloom quickly.
Others remain hidden for years.
And a few emerge as delightful surprises in places where we never expected anything to grow.
I see these blossoms throughout my pilgrimage: in Nancy’s careful planning, Sean’s loving companionship, visits with family and friends, Ireland’s beautiful landscapes, conversations about Church reform, an inclusive Eucharistic community, strangers who became kindred spirits, a hen party in Galway, a crowded retreat at Kylemore Abbey, and sacred encounters that appeared when I least expected them.
Aidan tends his garden, but he does not control what blooms.
Perhaps that is the invitation for all of us.
We tend what has been entrusted to us.
We plant seeds of love, justice, compassion and hope.
We nurture relationships.
We listen to the Spirit.
And then we leave room for serendipity.
So, as this Irish pilgrimage draws to a close, I find myself wondering:
What has the Holy One planted around the next corner?
I do not know.
And perhaps I do not need to know.
May the Holy One bring forth beauty, love and new life in ways I could never have imagined.
And may I always leave a little room for surprise!
(This article was developed with the editorial assistance of ChatGPT. The content and reflections are the author’s own.)
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