Someone recently told me about Saint Gobnait.
I loved her name from the minute I saw it. It reminds me of the candy from my childhood, the one my mom especially hated. The Everlasting Gobstopper.
A few words about it. The Everlasting Gobstopper is a candy from Roald Dahl’s 1964 children’s novel Charlie and the Chocolate Factory.
In the book, the candy maker, a fellow named Willy Wonka, said it was intended “for children with very little pocket money.”
In the book version, the Gobstopper changes colors and flavors when someone sucks on them. But here is the great thing. They never get any smaller, so a poor kid could buy one and have it go on and on forever.
Lucky for me, Nestle’ had the bright idea to make a real one. That happened in 1976 when I was just 12 years old. And my Mom despised them. She said I was sure to choke on the thing. Years earlier, when I was about four or so, I choked on a marble. My sister Julie saved my life. I was turning purple, and she hit me so hard on the back that the marble dislodged, and I swallowed the thing right on down. The opposite of the Heimlich. My Mom had to search for it in the following days. It was bright yellow, so, yeah. She found it.
Anyway. I didn’t mean to go on about Everlasting Gobstoppers. I started talking about Saint Gobnait. She is the Patron Saint of Bees and Beekeeping.
February 11 is her Feast Day, for those who may be wondering or even wish to celebrate with a line of honey shots.
But other than her name and Feast Day, not much is known about her in cold hard facts. Much of what we know about Saint Gobnait comes from folklore.
She was an Irish saint. But her life story was not written down during the medieval period. There’s no written proof of her birth or when she actually lived. Some say it was during the 6th century.
The legend goes that there was some sort of a family feud. So Gobnait fled to the island of Inisheer, where she founded a church. Apparently, it still stands on the north side of the island near the shore.
One day an angel appeared to her and told her to head inland and to find the place of her resurrection. The angel told her she would know this spot right away, as it would be marked by the presence of nine white deer.
She traveled around on foot until she found the nine deer grazing on a rise overlooking the River Sullane. And that is where she settled, all the while awaiting her own death and resurrection.
But the stories pour forth about her life and how she always had miraculous encounters where bees always saved the day. Like. Bees saving the village from vicious robbers and attackers. Or Bees turning into golden helmets. They say her bee honey could cure the sick. And on and on.
Her first name isn’t even known, though. Some think it is Abagail or Deborah. I’m voting for Everlasting.
Everlasting Gobnait, Keeper of Bees.
That’s my story today, and I’m sticking to it.
Like a Gobstopper.
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“Pay heed to the tales of old wives. It may well be that they alone keep in memory what it was once needful for the wise to know.”
― J.R.R. Tolkien, The Lord of the Rings
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“People think that stories are shaped by people. In fact, it’s the other way around.”
— Terry Pratchett
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“In the end, we’ll all become stories.”
— Margaret Atwood
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Bee Keeper. Jaw Breaker. Poor Kid. Wonky.
