In her younger days she worked her fingers-to-the-bone to be successful. She got her degree and even had her own business. Always so focused and so motivated. Her dream was to get the whole family to the United States. The people in her hometown did not understand why she wanted to leave. They would make fun of her and even call her names.
When we got here, she remained focused. Still worked her fingers-to-the-bone so time to make friends was not a top priority. Looking back, I can see that her tough character & her focus were a way to protect herself from people’s opinions.
But now that we are settling into our new house, it looks like she is ready to try again. She has made friends with a few ladies at church. But again, her tough coat has been misunderstood and there are a few ladies who do not get her level of focus or her motivation.
Yesterday she had an argument with the wife of a deacon. Mom had been asking around if any of the ladies needed a seamstress to make dresses for Christmas. My mother explained “I’m starting a new business…” and the deacon’s wife interrupted her.
“Why do you consider yourself to be better then the rest of us?” She complained to my mother.
“Isn’t a job at a factory good enough for you?” the lady stabbed deep into my mother’s ego.
But mom just lets this go…
A few weeks back, the deacon’s wife was doing a collection of unwanted clothes for the poor & needy. My father committed himself to donate clothes. Over the weeks leading up to Christmas, we had donated several bags of clothes, that we did not use anymore.
At the Wednesday service before Christmas, the ladies’ church group made one last request for more unwanted clothes. “There is a desperate need for these items…” was the last plea. Nobody raised their hands, and at the last minute my father raised his. Once again, he committed the whole family.
Now for Saturday service, we dragged a big bag of clothes with us on the train. Danny & I taking turns to carry the heavy bag. We carried it for the hour commute to the Adventist Church. There my father handed the bag over to the deacon’s wife. Danny gave up a green hooded, parka. It’s only problem was that it was faded in some areas & had holes in the pockets. Dad made me give up my favorite US Navy blue Pea coat. It had beautiful brass buttons & only a small tear in the elbow that mom could have fixed.
Mom gave up a nice brown coat with a white fur collar. Even though the fur was fake & a little dirty. She liked it enough that if it wasn’t for this drive, she would have kept it. Begrudgingly she too gave it up for those more needy…
All because my dad said “the poor do not have clothes to keep them warm this winter and you have plenty to spare!”
Saturday church service was beautiful and the Christmas theme left us feeling that giving up our items for the benefit of others was a good idea.
It is what a “good Christian” should do – right?
But now walking out of Saturday service, it was raining outside and we see a difference in the floor mats the church is using. Stretched out on the floor were my mom’s fur-collar coat; my blue Pea coat & Danny’s green parka there on the floor for people to wipe their feet…
This cut deep, like a knife, straight thru my mother’s heart. She had allowed herself to be vulnerable and allowed people in. But now this lady had taken a direct hit at mom. I don’t know why… envy… anger… jealousy…
But again my mother lets this go and just moves on – like always. This time, I know the pain was a little deeper.
A neighbor saw us walking & offered us a ride home. Mom was quiet all the way home and nobody else dare break the silence. All we could do was listen to Delta Dawn playing on the radio. I guess mom being vulnerable is now like a faded rose from days gone by…
When we got home, mom went straight up to her room. I hope we can find a way to cheer her up before Christmas.
MY mom showed up with a container of ‘Mentol Chino‘ & a stack of newspapers. She rubs the mentol chino on his chest and on his back. She lays it on thick so that the newspaper will be able to stick to it.
My mother walks back in, this time with a thick wool blanket that we brought over from Ecuador. This blanket is made of Llama wool and is made by the local Indians. I have many memories of how it kept me warm during those cold winter nights in the Bronx. We used to have nights when the heat would not work & this blanket was the only thing that kept us from freezing our ass of. The whole family would sit under this blanket to stay warm & watch TV.
He was so proud of his Super Beetle and how great the stereo sounded.