Here is the original story of Colin Farrell's hospital visit from the Facebook of Ireland and Peg's Cottage. Love the poem she has put to this picture....
Ireland and Peg's Cottage~~
By popular demand, I'm re-posting this story and this lovely poem. The photo of Colin Farrell was taken on a mobile phone by the parent of this sick baby in Our Lady's Hospital in Ireland on Christmas Day the year before last. He had arrived unannounced (not even his publicist knew of his plans) with hundreds of gifts just to spend some time with the sick children. No TV ... no media ...
Colin’s son, James Padraig, has Angelman Syndrome (AS), the little-known, severely debilitating neuro-genetic condition.
As a younger man, Colin long held the reputation of a hell-raiser with a love of booze and wild sex. He opened his heart recently in an interview about life with his eight-year-old son Jimmy, as he affectionately calls him, and how the happy-go-lucky child … who like most other AS sufferers has speech and movement impairments … has greatly improved the quality of his life.
"Jimmy has lifted me in that sometimes tremulous hand of his," he said. "He has come into my life and gifted me the opportunity to look outside myself and to watch his every difficulty and to watch his insurmountable spirit just forge ahead in life. I ain't saying I'm a great man or nothing, but I'm getting to be about as good a fellow as I'm going to be.”
Whenever I’m reminded of this story, I’m always reminded of this poem too …
IRISH HE IS
What shall I say about the Irish?
The utterly impractical, never predictable
Something irascible, quite inexplicable Irish ...
A strange blend of shyness, of pride and conceit,
And stubborn refusal to bow in defeat
He’s spoiling and ready to argue and fight,
Yet the smile of a child fills his soul with delight.
His eyes are the quickest to well up in tears,
Yet his strength is the strongest to banish your fears.
His hate is as fierce as his devotion is grand,
And there is no middle ground on which he will stand.
He’s wild and he’s gentle, he’s good and he’s bad.
He’s proud and he’s humble, he’s happy and sad.
He’s in love with the ocean, the earth and the skies,
He’s enamoured with beauty wherever it lies.
He’s victor and victim, a star and a clod,
But mostly he’s Irish... in love with his God.
No comments:
Post a Comment