صحبتي!  أنا ما شوفتك في يومين.

Aela* had pulled back from our customary greeting of kissing each other on the cheeks quicker then normal to proclaim this simple chide. She was right it had been a full two days since I had walked passed her and we had exchanged our greetings. She went on to explain how worried she had been since she hadn’t seen me and after our conversations I couldn’t help but contemplate as I walked away the gift of MaryAnn.

MaryAnn was a secretary at the school I attended growing up. Once when having me over for tea when I was visiting from college she explained in great detail why she didn’t shop the sales, she explained that her goal was relationships with people so she went to the same stores, the same clerks on the days they were working. She went out of her way to connect with the people in her life at that moment in time. When I attended her funeral several years later I was not surprised to see a flood of people including her dentist, her florist, her baker…they had all been touched by her simply because she took the time to greet and know those around her.

I’ve thought of Maryann alot here and have gone out of my way to try and walk the same routes and by from the same vendors-this I say is Maryann’s legacy in my life, her gift to me.

Anyway, back Aela* I am not sure when a simple head nod turned into a longer greeting, and then cheek kissing and then conversations about families, and how to cook. She has no English and my Arabic is far from fluent but somehow those stops get longer each day. I try and allow at least fifteen minutes extra as I walk to and from school to hear her news, sometimes I bring her baked goods, and sometimes we drink tea together. Once this woman shared her son was in the hospital and even though she is of a different faith then me I was able to pray with her for her son. She says since then that my God healed him, I agree with her and we smile.

I usually walk alone, I have dropped off my children at school and J– is studying and I am walking to class myself but sometimes, on Fridays we walk by her on our way home from church as a family unit. Today was such a day and I reminded the children as we approached that we were approaching my special friend, that she would want them to greet her properly etc..

Engulfed is the word I shall use for what occurred. She embraced them all as if they were her own, she hugged, and kissed and squeezed them. She proclaimed their praises and God’s goodness to me and we briefly exchanged our greetings.

I have never not seen her not working on that street corner, her head covering perfectly in place, her tiny vegetables spread across the cement. She makes about a 2 pound profit per kilo she sells (this is the equivalent of 25cents.  Her stand is smaller then most around her and she struggles to find shade as she sits there.

Today I explained I was cooking fish and wanted some limes. We talked about whether I would need hot peppers as well and decided against it (did I mention she gives me cooking advice) and then that woman did something I in my selfishness can hardly fathom. She opened my bag, my shanta, and put two handfuls of limes inside. Her gift to me, to us. This dear woman without hesitation gave several hours of salary to our family. She knew we had the money to pay her, she knew she would but she wanted to give it, she longed to bless. I wanted to pull her aside and explain in depth to her what she means to me each day, how I love her so very deeply but language, emotion and children ready to keep moving forces me to push all these emotions into expressions such as, “a million thank yous”, and “you are so good to me dear friend”.

I am not sure when or how it happened, how our hearts became entwined, why I eagerly look forward to seeing and greeting her each day, I often practices things to say to her when her smiles warms mine. I can only conclude it is the legacy of Maryann I am amazed that the simple act of consistently being present and greeting and visiting the same lady resulted in love, but it did and I cannot help but think about the powerful grace of God.

This God I serve can bring people across continents, bridge language gaps, and work and unite different faiths to bond them together. My shanta is filled with limes, and my heart is warmed by her smile, simply because we allowed ourselves to be present and a part of each others lives because we passed each other each day on the street.

I have some leftover limes, a nice lime cake will be baked and brought for the next coffee time with my friend. God knew that I needed her, that dear soul that sits on the streets and works so hard each day to provide for her family. Her smiles, her laughter, her story, her generosity and her limes.

I feel sometimes a bit like I am unsure what my life ought to be about, and then I think of Aela*, and her generosity, her willingness to befriend an outgoing white lady on the street and choose to see her as a friend instead of a paycheck. I want to make my life more like MaryAnn’s, more like Aela’s about making the most of sharing life with the people that cross my path. So I can fill someones shanta with limes and speak the language of love to whoever I have the privilege of rubbing shoulders with.

*not her real name to protect her*