I met a Latin American woman working housekeeping during my travels to the east coast. She saw me leaving my room and greeted me with a smile and a "hello." I returned her greeting with a big smile and wave; thinking nothing of it. But my kindness to the housekeeper would soon blossom into putting a face on the suffering of Latin American women in the United States.
I sat down to breakfast- snacking on a donut; pretending I would eat the bananna on my table. By the time I hit my second cup of coffee the housekeeper walked in the breakfast room to sneak some fruit. She turned to me again, "Do you like breakfast?" she asked. "Yes- I guess I do" I replied. She questioned again, "Do you like early mornings?" "Sometimes" I said as I laughed.
She smiled- but her smile quickly faded. Her lips quivered and her eyes peirced me with an overwhelming grief. She tried to hide it and shook her head causing the dark, matted curls in her hair to bounce. She moved as if she could shake away her sadness for the moment.
I smiled at her and gave her warm eyes. Suddenly she blurted out, "It's such hard work. Such hard work. All day- all day. So I can live upstairs. But it's such hard work- such hard, hard work." She was trying, unsuccesfully, not to cry.
I had no idea what to do or say. All I could think of was my Liberation Theology class and Izzasi-Diaz's book about the suffering of Latin American women; and here she was before me-- a person; not an idea in a book.
"Do you have family here?" I asked. Any good pastor knows family is a good starting point. She had a son and a daughter. One was married and she had a grandbaby. It sounded like perhaps she provided for some of them.
She tried to eat a bananna but her grief and torment would not allow it. She grabbed me in a hug and sobbed. I was not surprised.
I hugged her tightly back-- not processing it yet; but quite aware that is what I was there to do.
She gave up on her bananna and went to throw it away; whimpering the entire way.
I looked at her hunched over body and felt incredible compassion for her. I could not stand it anymore. I jumped up and hugged her again. "God be with you" I whispered. She nodded her head.
She got a cup and filled it as her hands quivered. She turned to me one last time. "Goodbye" she said with a wave. "Goodbye" I mumbled back.
And she was gone.
I thought about my words to her. "God be with you;" and I felt sad. The way God will be "with" her is through God's physical body in the world-- the Church... and I have serious doubts many of us SEE her; let alone care.
She's invisible. She works quietly-- cleaning; suffering in silence. She works countless hours. She grieves; and a huge portion of the church doesn't see her.
We send money to the poor overseas. We desire to save those in poverty from the gates of hades-- but few of us give a rip about this lady's living conditions and her grief so overwhelming she would sob before a complete stranger.
She's invisible.
The only job she can find is cleaning up after me. She had hopes for a better life and those hopes came crashing around her.
Her pain and grief is unbelivable and unbearable-- and she's invisible.
Her name is Sengena.
* * * * * * *
God, give us the eyes to see the invisible; to be your hands and feet to those who suffer right in front of us. Make the invisible the ones whom our eyes see the most.
And God- be WITH that dear lady; through us, your body.
* * * * * * *
7 comments:
Your first post in forever and it made me cry.
God, be with Sengena.
I bet she'll never forget you.
I have a feeling you were right Valerie... I'm going to turn into quite the blog poster on sabbatical. Now that I'm not moving or packing, I have time to think and write.
I do have a question for you though: What about this post caused you to cry? I'm so curious. I could come up with 10 answers just from knowing you personally; but I want to know which of the 10 it was.
Oh, and I totally miss you. Drink some "Meads" Coffee for me.
I probably shouldn't answer your question this late at night (for a couple of reasons!) but I'll give it a shot.
Let's see...She said hello to you. You know me. I WANT to say hello to everyone, but I don't always do it. I admire her ability to speak to just 'anyone'.
She was sneaking fruit. Maybe she was allowed to eat there, maybe not. Maybe she wanted something to eat, maybe she was just seeking companionship, a friendly face, a soft voice, maybe any reason to pause the work that she hated.
She tried so hard to hide her real emotions, pretending to be what the world expected of her. Happy. Proud. I know how that feels inside.
She's exhausted...she's tired. She hates her "daily grind" and I'm sure she feels trapped. She knows not what else to do, so she gets up early, works hard, receives no thanks, and most likely lives near or below the poverty level.
She is invisible here in our "land of opportunity". She is a nobody. Every day people look right through her. They pass her by, she means nothing.
How close must she have been to her breaking point to reach out to a complete stranger? To physically reach out, to hold on to you physically?
I paused to think about her reaching out to you. YOU. What did she in you? Did she know? Did she see Jesus through you? I bet she did. I know you.
I cry again now because she suffers and it tears at my heart. Nobody should have to live life that way. And here, we have it all. ALL. So much more than other countries. Why must she suffer, and how can I help? How can the church, the body of Christ, help her? And after her, now many more people need that same touch? I feel helpless.
Oh, and I hope I was right. I want more and more and more blogs! ;)
Valerie- awesome response. You should write more. Seriously. You have more cognitive processing skills than some college students I know. :)
After I read your post, you made me think; a lot. I started thinking- what in the world was it about me that caused her to hug me and talk to me.
I said hi. Whoo hoo. Perhaps I should get a medal for that. No one has ever done anything so great (she says sarcastically).
What else did I do? I smiled. Um, again- not exactly honor worthy. I probably won't get a building at the local college named after me for smiling.
So what was it? I pondered this all night. I was up at 3am pondering this. Why me- what could have caused her to hug me?
And then I remembered Rob Bell's book "Sex God." I think around chapter 5.
I gave her lipstick.
She was invisible and I gave her back her humanity. She felt like she was valuable from my non-award winning, not exciting smile and hi.
What's so great about me? Nothing. Just that I, like every other Christian in the world, have the potential to give people their humanity-- to show them they have value.
And perhaps... that is the greatest, most exciting thing in the world.
So... you're not helpless at all, Valerie. Don't feel helpless.
So long as your creative enough to find ways to give people their humanity, you're not anywhere close to helpless to help the needs of those who suffer.
I mean, all you have to do is smile.
Christy,
I thought of your post again the other day... I was doing a service based on "Names of God," and decided to make my devotional about one of the lesser-known names of God: "The One who Sees Me."
Maybe you don't remember that name for God... I didn't, until someone gave me the reference: Genesis 16.
Wow. Jon that's awesome. So awesome.
Thanks for sharing that!
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