As soon as I owned a computer, I started searching for 'Donan.'
I didn't know much about my name. My mom heard the name at her Catholic high school from one of her teachers (a nun) who had considered taking 'Donan' when she took her vows. Nuns often take names of a saint who inspires them as to direct their lives in service. My mom didn't know much about the Donan story so I was excited to find out more.
My first search revealed: Donan was a man. Donan was killed in the bloodiest martyrdom in Celtic church history.
I wasn't thrilled.
What did that mean for me? I continued to search as the years went by. I learned that there is an Eilean Donan Castle in Scotland. I learned that Donan is a Scotch-Gaelic name. I learned that Donnan (potential Gaelic spelling) means 'brown.' I wanted more, a deeper understanding of my name which could, hopefully, lead to a deeper understanding of myself.
As the years went by, I began to wonder if I was seeking for something that wasn't needed. What insight was I hoping to gain? Lots of people just have their names which take on meaning as they live their lives. Nonetheless, I kept searching.
I started following 'Eilean Donan Castle' on Facebook. As you can see from the photo above, the castle is beautiful. They post at least a picture a day and all the photos are beautiful. I began to wonder if I could visit the castle. This seemed like a crazy dream because I don't travel internationally. I mean, I don't think of myself as a person who can travel internationally. I think of all the practical reasons that I can't or shouldn't go. It's nice to dream but could it really happen?
As Jeremiah and I planned our sabbatical, we began to wonder if we could make a 'dream trip' to Ireland and Scotland. We had inherited a small sum of money and the dream trip seemed like an appropriate use for that money. We had the time because of our sabbatical. We had the support of our amazing parents to watch our kiddos. I still struggled to believe we could actually pull it off. Jeremiah made me sit down one night to book tickets because it still seemed so surreal to me.
With tickets in hand, I began to research how to get to the castle. We didn't want to rent a car (driving a manual on the opposite side of the road on narrow, windy roads did not sound restful to us) so how could we get to this castle that seemed like it was in the middle of nowhere? I researched tour companies and itineraries. I looked again and again at dates. I talked to several folks who had traveled in the area. I started to wonder if I would find something that would work for us. Several tours stopped at the castle but it was just a photo opportunity. I wanted to go in. I wanted to spend time there.
Finally, in what felt like a miracle, I found a company that stopped at the castle that fit our itinerary. I booked it immediately.
And then, I started to wonder if this was a good idea. What if going to the castle was a big let down? What if I had built this up idea about the potential significance of the experience that could never be met? Maybe I should just not go to avoid potential disappointment. But, the tickets were booked. We were going.
As we closer and closer, I got more and more nervous. I tried to tell myself we were seeing lots of amazing things on this trip. I wanted to believe that if the castle didn't meet my unnecessarily high expectations, the trip would still be worth it. Jeremiah and I joked about the questions we could ask at the castle like, "How many people named Donan are here today?" Humor helped my mood.
We arrived at the castle first thing on the morning on the second day. The sky had turned dark and the rain was just starting to fall. Jeremiah wanted to take lots of pictures including some of me and the castle. I felt shy. I didn't want this moment memorialized if it turned out to be a big disappointment.
We took our tickets and handed them to the attendants at the entrance to the bridge. As I walked across, I felt like I was living a dream-- a place that I had looked at so often was becoming part of my lived experience. If this was the best part of the castle visit, I felt okay with that.
It wasn't. It got better.
Jeremiah walked up to one of the guides inside the castle and struck up a conversation. He called me over and introduced me, "I'd like you to meet my wife, Donan."
"Nice to meet you. Oh, you're a Donan!" he replied.
I laughed. "Yes, do you get many of us here?"
"No. You're the first one I've met." We proceeded to talk about the origin of St. Donan. The guide told me more in 5 minutes then I'd learned in 20 years of Internet searching.
Donan was part of a larger Irish monastic movement during 6th and 7th centuries. As the Romans left Scotland, the Irish returned with the gospel. Donan established several 'cells' or religious communities in the area. There is a church up the road from the castle that also bears his name. Several other monks are remembered in a similar fashion around Scotland, each seems to be geographically specific. He told me that Donan came from one of three potential monasteries outside of Dublin and died just outside of Argyll. He recommended a book where I could learn more about this period of Irish/Scottish history.
As the guide talked, I felt like a hand reached down from heaven and touched my heart. This is what I had been searching for in all those years of Internet searches. God was speaking to me.
I heard all the ways Donan had been faithful to the call of God to bring the gospel (the literal pages of scripture as the Irish preserved them from the unrest following the fall of Rome) to Scotland. He left behind his life in Ireland to go to new places, not knowing what he might find there. He established new communities filled with people who wanted to follow God. These communities continued for thousands of years (!) and still remember the man who founded them.
We wandered around the castle a bit more. I was in a daze. I went to the gift shop, eager to find something to help me remember this moment of feeling so known by God. I bought a tote bag. It wasn't enough but it was something.
As we loaded back on the bus, I started to cry. I felt known and seen. I felt filled with purpose to go and do likewise (to quote Jesus...) I felt loved by God. I felt God's abundance in helping me get to this place and hear these words. I thought about those moments of self-doubt leading up to the trip and realized how often I talked myself out of what might be good because I'm afraid. I saw so much goodness and received so much purpose. I am so thankful.
