And on this day when I have labored at my blog more than is fitting, since it is Sunday, I can't let the day end without a nod to St. David's day. I'm atoning for my day of labor by listening as I type this to the Froncysyllte Male Voice Choir sing, so beautifully, the traditional Welsh evening hymn, Ar Hyd Y Nos.St. David and his shrine in Pembrokeshire have a special place in my heart after Steve and I ended our pilgrimage in May 2006 there. We crossed the southern half of England and Wales east to west, from the shrine of Our Lady of Walsingham in Norfolk to St. David's. Praying as we went, seeking to discern God's will for our lives in a period of yet another impending relocation . . . .
I've written about the termination of that pilgrimage at St. David's shrine elsewhere(here and here). It's a place I will not soon forget, since I have worn a St. David's cross around my neck ever since that pilgrimage ended, a token of remembrance I got at St. David's shrine to remind me of the pilgrimage.
I haven't picked a daffodil or a leek to wear today, but St. David and his legacy are in my soul as the day ends and I listen to beautiful Welsh voices sing hymns, and think of my James, Griffith, Pritchard, and Llewellen ancestors--and of the wild beauty and deep peace of the shrines of St. David and his mother St. Non on the rocky coasts of Pembrokeshire.
