Gety and the Crybaby or How Mother Mary Comforts Me
The sky is so blue, this Monday morning–tiny tufts of white clouds framing bare beautiful branches. Up and down the street the neighbors march to and from our little school. Everyday the Ethiopian moms’ bellies grow bigger with babies they are too modest to mention. Everyday I call my hellos in Spanish, then English, before stopping to talk to my friend Gety who runs the little Ethiopian market down the street. She kisses me three times on alternating cheeks and then we hug.
“I’m so tired,” she says, her lovely lashes low on her face. “You know today is our holiday, right?”
I nod and wish her a merry Christmas.
“I only sleep two HOURS,” she tells me, exhausted but smiling.
“What were you doing?” I ask, knowing her Christmas all-nighter can’t possibly include running out to Target or wrapping more presents like mine. And then I realize. Oh yes–praying.
We say it at the same time and laugh. “In the church,” she adds. That beautiful Ethiopian Orthodox church with the art and the incense and the candles.
I tell her she needs to teach me Amharic so I can work in the store when she’s tired which makes her laugh some more, but I’m serious. I can see myself behind that counter, selling lentils and fresh cuts of beef from the butcher in the back. I can see myself stacking the injera and selling phone cards to Africa. I can imagine how happy I would be rattling off prices in Amharic and holding round happy babies while those same sweet bellied mamas on my street make their way through Gety’s little store. Is there anything more magical than that?
I’m really not much of a crier. It’s not that I don’t like to cry or that a good cry doesn’t make me feel better. It’s just not a natural expression of my emotions. I would be more likely to be really pressed or overwhelmed or worn out before the tears start to flow. But I can cry with Gety just about any day of the week, no crisis necessary.
Sometimes it’s about something that has nothing to do with me really. Like the time she told me the entire history of Ethiopia in hushed tones in the back of the cafeteria during a PTA meeting. But most of the time, it has something to do with hope and all the ways Gety has it where I don’t.
“I know that about you,” Gety likes to tease me. “I know you’re a crybaby.” She laughs when she says it. But then she asks me about Dave and my family and how I’m doing. I tell her the truth in simple sentences. I don’t leave out the hard parts. Every once in a while, I add the things I miss–about my childhood faith, about the luxury of growing up believing without a shadow of a doubt. With each word, kindness fills her face, and if that doesn’t undo me, the next sentence always does.
“You know what I’m gonna do, Jen?” she tells me. “I’m gonna pray.” She says it with so compassion for me, so much hope. Some might take that as an empty platitude or a brush off, but I know that’s not the case with Gety. She’s serious, and the next time she hides in her closet to say her prayers, she’ll be telling Mary to remember me. Partly because Mary is her favorite and also because she loves me so much.
In my mind, I imagine it as a way to call someone in on Karmic Jury duty to give Jen a break, but to Gety it is calling the Divine Mother herself, to visit me–the next time I feel hopeless, the next time I feel worn out from giving all I’ve got. Which is more often these days than I care to report.
The clouds are rolling off now, revealing a bright sun and warmer day than we expected. I gave up on official representatives of major religions a long time ago. Or did I? When Gety opens my heart, the tears fall into kindness only a divine mother can hold. The kind of mother you cannot see, but who sees you and holds onto hope. No matter what.
*copies of Ze’s song coming to commenters along with shaking the shoulds, part two. stay tuned.
January 8th, 2008 at 3:55 am
Dear writer,
It is a moving story. You’ve got a poet’s pen. God be with you. Let the blessing of Theotokos, the God bearer, be with you. You will see the miracle yourself if you ask her intercession and blessing.
http://deje-selam.blogspot.com/2007/10/dreamer-helps-unearth-ancient-church.html
An Ethiopian
January 8th, 2008 at 9:18 am
Jen - this is such a beautiful portrait of Gety, of you, of faith and friendship. Thank you for making the time to write it down and share it. Because of you, I will be singing “Let It Be” all day now.
xo Jena
January 8th, 2008 at 10:58 am
this is so incredibly beautiful…and comforting.
thank you for orchestrating it all in such a tangible and “breath-it-all-in” sort of way. you are beauty!
January 8th, 2008 at 11:06 am
Another beautiful post that I read with intense attention and heartfelt longing and understanding at the same time.
“I gave up on official representatives of major religions along time ago.” Ah, yes. But they did not give up on us, my dear Jen.
I echo your position, as it is much the same in my own life. Only I’m finding that it doesn’t have to be an all or nothing kind of deal. Our spirituality is such a complex matter that it can be both/and instead of either/or. In my opinion, it’s only Man who tries to convince us that it needs to be in a neat little package with a denomination stamped on the outside.
We may give up, but the Spirit of the Universe is always there. Finding us in ways we didn’t even realize existed. And ministering to us in profound and meaningful moments, exactly like what you’re describing here.
Hugs and Hope,
Lisa
January 8th, 2008 at 11:13 am
Oh, I love, love, love, love this post!!!! I know EXACTLY what you’re talking about and I never, ever find someone to share my adoration of all things Ethiopia(n) with.
You are so lucky to live right next to an Ethiopian market store. I have to drive an hour to get to mine. But the hugs and kisses and questions about my family make it all worth it (nevermind the ingera).
On New Years Day we went to my friend Tamar’s house for a huge feast (this has been our tradition for 4 or 5 years now). She must have prepared 15 different kinds of wat. My mouth was watering from the moment I got into the house. After the feast she roasted coffee beans on the basement floor over an open fire. We had to cover the smoke detector with a plastic bag because it kept going off. After the coffee was made she put the incense on the fire. Absolutely perfect.
And the best comment of the afternoon goes to Tarik, who told my brother and I that 3% of American’s and 1% of Canadian’s gain weight over Christmas. Then she asked us if we knew why. She did. She said that it’s because there and more Christians in America than in Canada. And what do North American Christians do over Christmas? They eat and sit and eat and sit. Then she told us that Ethiopian Orthodox Christian go out and dance and sing and celebrate over Christmas. How great is that?
I absolutely love getting together with these friends. I love it that you write about your Ethiopian friends.
Your next trip should be to Ethiopia, Jen. You would love it and they would love you and you should stay long enough to learn some Amharic.
January 8th, 2008 at 2:19 pm
If she is not a picture of Jesus on earth, I’m not sure what is . . . really beautiful.
January 8th, 2008 at 3:48 pm
This is so beautiful and touching and filled with love. I read it last night and have re-read it three times this morning.
Thank you, jen, for giving me comfort this day. I’m struggling with losses and transition related to faith but I’m hanging on tight to love, compassion, joy and hope.
(You know what — I “shook a should” by writing this!)
January 8th, 2008 at 4:04 pm
Lovely story, Jen. I envy your divine connections to people.
I’ve been on the edge of having that feeling the divine mother, too, at times. For me, it’s more magical to not put name or a face to it, but the way you’ve described it has given me a new perspective.
Enjoy this beautiful, beautiful day!
January 8th, 2008 at 4:35 pm
Although I am not religious, I find myself praying all the time. I wish I had more ‘faith’ I say… but I know that I have it, regardless, in spite of myself. Yesterday was a hard day, and I had faith that today would be better. I wish I could have cried all day long — but instead I just put my head down and kept on going… which I really didn’t want to do… but it got me to my end goal: bed and book and furry kitties.
I’m looking forward to more thoughts on ’shoulds’ — I am in active battle with these demons all the time.
January 8th, 2008 at 5:07 pm
my brother cycled across Ethiopia for his honey moon …. they brought back amazing coffee.
January 8th, 2008 at 8:18 pm
Oh how I wished I lived in your neighborhood!
January 8th, 2008 at 8:58 pm
That is so beautiful Jen. I love picturing you at a PTA meeting, teary and sharing things that really matter.
It suddenly makes me like PTA so much more…
What a gift to know you are being prayed for by such a soul..
January 8th, 2008 at 9:10 pm
Jen, I also gave up on religion a long time ago. I didn’t have the dogma or rituals of any one religion or Christian denomination drilled into me as a child. I was left free and I’m still free. I have no church. Yet Mary visits me, both in dreams and in visions. You don’t have to be religious for Mary to be real or to hear your friend’s prayers or to help you.
January 9th, 2008 at 3:32 pm
I love this story!
and the image of you working behind the counter
at that market.
I love who you are in the world.
January 13th, 2008 at 7:53 am
[…] This week, I knew as soon as I read Jen Lemen on Tuesday that I would focus on different kinds of prayer. Gety and the crybaby… tells the story of Jen’s Ethiopian neighbours and their celebration Christmas, which Christians of the Orthodox Churches celebrate on the 7 January. I gave up on official representatives of major religions a long time ago. Or did I? When Gety opens my heart, the tears fall into kindness only a divine mother can hold. The kind of mother you cannot see, but who sees you and holds onto hope. […]
January 17th, 2008 at 10:45 am
Jen - I’m passing along a “Daily Dose” award to you for this post (and so many others). Please come on over to get it!
xo Jena