Anatomy of Compassion

The highlight of last Sunday came in the late afternoon...we went to Aberu's to celebrate the 3rd birthday of Alexander! Normally she celebrates the children's birthdays only with their little, immediate family (birthdays aren't a normal thing to celebrate in Ethiopia, but she doesn't want the kids to feel left out in Austrian society). Yet, Aberu said that Alexander was expecting us and she wanted to include us in the celebration. We had a great time singing, opening presents, eating cake, playing, hearing Nahum preform his new Mozart pieces, and just having time to catch up with Aberu because we haven't seen her since the start of school--over two weeks now! Solomon, her husband, was also there and it was good to see him and Aberu getting along well enough, him taking care of the kids, playing with them, taking pictures, etc. Everyone was in good spirits to celebrate the special day, Alexander most of all! 

As a little treat to us (even though its not our birthday), Aberu prepared traditional Ethiopian coffee for us after celebrating and eating cake. 

this is how she warms the beans to create the coffee aroma. She does't have the correct grinder in order to actually make coffee out of these authentic Ethiopian coffee beans, but she cooks them to get the aroma, and then prepares the coffee from Austrian beans. 

you sit on the floor around this mat. you drink out of these little cups. each time you have coffee together, it involves three rounds-once you finish the coffee (with loads of sugar but never milk) in your little cup, the hostess begins brewing the coffee again and makes another round. The third round is the final, and it is for good luck....so you never pass up the third cup. thankfully they're little, because as Aberu and Soloman explained, you end up having coffee several times throughout the day, either with you as host, or going to someone else and you end up having 20 or so little cups of coffee each day :) 

the birthday boy hiding from the camera!!!

aberu preparing the coffee and explaining as she goes. 

the pictures are blurry because she usually keeps all the windows and shades closed in her house (no idea why), so it is always very dark. 

still hiding.

round three

noise makers make birthdays complete. or you insane. 

lovely aberu

making a wish after be blew out the candles. 

I stand in awe of the way the Lord has worked in our lives in the last 8 months--and I can't believe we have known Aberu and her beautiful boys already for 8 months!! She has really become a dear friend and calls us to get together as much as we call her. 


Sometimes we go to her house to visit, take the kids to the park or just play in the living rooms, and she always prepares traditional Ethiopian dishes when we visit-- her traditional Ethiopian  <bread> which is more like a bubbly crepe filled with hot meat sauce (yes....I haven't broken the news to her that I am a vegetarian so once a month I eat some meat...) 

this is her preparing the food...

and the boys pretending I am a jungle gym 

and heading out to the real jungle gym at the park...

and some good old reading....

which obviously Lukas is not too fond of, but Nahum really enjoys! This happened to be a book of letters written by Mozart to his family when he was young. Nahum is really interested in Mozart. 

Sometimes we pick a time and place to meet and we spend the afternoon in one of Vienna's wonderful parks. On a sunny Sunday afternoon several weeks ago, we spent the afternoon in Stadtpark playing on the huggge jungle gyms and of course, they're favorite, soccer. 

Then sometimes they come to our house. A month or so ago, we met in the afternoon in a park that is close to us (Augarten) and after hours of playing we headed back to our house and had dinner. But it wasn't just Aberu and the boys and us, but the two daughters of Tomoko (the violin player), Reiko and Keiko came over as well because Tomoko had a concert and needed a babysitter at the last minute. All nine of us had a wonderful time eating dinner and then playing at our house. It was so interesting to see the worlds of Aberu and Tomoko intersecting in our living room. What a joy to bring our friends together!  

In the last 8 months of growing and friendship and love with Aberu things have surely changed. Her hugs are different--they are no longer formal and short, but long and tight and conveying true gratitude and love, There is this mask of politeness (which everyone of course has in the beginning) that has been shed and she has let us into her heart and her life with such a trust and gentleness. She asks me to give my parents a "<hello> from her when I talk with them (Oh yeah, mom and dad...forgot that last time!), and shares with me her life, her problems with the kids, her grocery store list, her laundry issues with me like we have been friends for the longest time. 


But I must tell you...something happened this summer and I must share it with you. Because it is touching, and beautiful, and deep, and really...a gift. I learned the difference between sympathy and compassion. 


Back when Renee was here (when she first arrived), I visited Aberu like I had been doing much more especially in the absence of Alina and Fr. Jacques. She called me up and asked me if I had free time one afternoon--and I did, so I went for a visit. The boys were getting ready to go to a birthday party with their dad when I arrived, so it turned out that I spent a quite and peaceful afternoon with Aberu and Alexander at home. I think she arranged it that way because she needed a rest, but she doesn't like to be alone. A little less chaos, but not silence. 
She was going through a really difficult time--she was stressed...not sleeping much...and with four boys at home with nothing to do during the summer but be living whirlwinds of chaos like normal energy-filled young boys...she had little time to relax or catch her breath. We sat on the couch that afternoon in her dark living room with Alexander jumping from her lap to mine and back and forth. At first there was the polite chatting--the weather, the latest news, etc. Alexander fell asleep as we were talking and our conversation kept going in circles, for every time I would really ask her about herself and how she was doing, she would change the subject back to me or to Alina. I could see in her strained and darkly encircled eyes that there was a weight she was carrying, that she didn't want to share because she didn't want to have to think about it, to acknowledge that it was there. Whenever she turned the conversation to anything beside herself, she was running, escaping the revelation of this weight, and instead carrying it alone. As she was ignoring it, I couldn't, and eventually instead of letting the conversation run in superficial circles, we just sat in silence. It was in fact a relief, because the chatting was more or less fake--noise, distraction to keep her from exploding under the weight of everything in her heart. Since the silence kept finding us, we just let it settle. For the first time she looked me in the eyes, completely silent, and just let herself be. The silence was welcomed because in it there was nothing hidden, but nothing needed to be spoken. For her, what was best was not to talk, even about the important things. But to just be. And that being could be peaceful because she was in that silence with another. 
The silence then gave her the strength and courage to face the weight, to take it off of her shoulders, and ask to share it with me. She took a breath and told me how hard it is to be alone. 
To live with her husband and have him there to help sometimes with the kids, but ultimately to be alone. I asked her what it was like before--Were they happy together? What was it like when they were first married? Or was it always so difficult?
In the beginning it was happy. She was his all. When they came to Austria, they didn't have many friends and she was his other half, his single support. Then as he started making friends in his work environment and in german courses, he started staying later and later after work, or doing things on the weekends which took his time away from the family more and more. She wanted him to be happy, so she let him do what he pleased....she just happened to not be included. One New Year's, he was in Rome with friends for two weeks and when he came back, Aberu had news--she was pregnant. WIth Alexander! He started throwing things, yelling, "<Why?, What have you done? Do you want to ruin me, to kill me? Why did you do this? I can't take another one!> 
As she was sharing her outward strong composure remained the same, but when I looked into her eyes I could see her reliving this instant, the instant in which the immense sadness and heartbreak tossed her and turned her in its waves leaving her disoriented and raw. She said that in that moment her heart was broken so completely that she didn't think it would ever heal. She had wept and had fallen to the floor in despair, only to have to get back to her feet again to continue living in this broken relationship, to care for her children, especially the little one now living in her womb. She couldn't give up. She and her husband from this point on didn't talk anymore unless they were communicating about the kids. They have completely separate lives, while still living together because Aberu wants the kids to be with their father and she couldn't work to support herself with the kids until right now because the children weren't all in school. Now Alexander is going to Kindergarten as well and she can search for work. But only now, as she explained to me, had she enough courage to say to Solomon, <I am not your cleaning lady or cook. I am the mother of your children and I am your wife. But most of all I am a human being with worth. But you broke me and I cannot live like this anymore. We must split.> So he is looking for an apartment. 
A little later on in the visit we were talking about her finding work and what it will be like for her to work. She said, <You know, I'm afraid of that too. I am afraid of being with him any longer and I am afraid of splitting completely from him. I am afraid I'll be too tired, not have the time I want for my kids. I am afraid Ill be more alone than I already am and that he won't be there to fall back on sometimes when I need a rest from the boys.> But then she said, <These are just things I have to accept and I know I will make it through. God will help me.>


You know....it was the FIRST time in my experience with Aberu, in our friendship, that I understood COMPASSION. There is a difference between sympathy in seeing the complete misery and ugliness of a situation, and compassion in which you are given the grace to enter in--not only by God, but by the other person. Something changed in this afternoon and I don't exactly know how to describe it, but it is something that was given to me completely unexpected and unable to be earned. And she gave it to me today--the ability to be WITH her. For the first time, my heart broke with hers. 
Reflecting on our time together on my U-bahn ride back to the 2. district I realized it had alot to do with the silence we shared. And in this moment I also understood JUST BEING THERE. She let me suffer with her, for the first time. 


I had to leave to go to adoration and meet Renee after several hours of visiting with her, and she didn't want to let me leave because she said, when she is alone and cannot do housework, etc. because the kids are sleeping or she is too exhausted, all she can do is sit and her mind doesn't stop. She said, <You know, with you here, I don't have to think of all the things I don't want to think about. When I'm alone, I have to, I can't help it. There is no relief from the pain.> 


All of this ruminated in my heart and head in adoration in Stephansdom amid the noise of the renovation work on the Cathedral, the street breakdancers in the square outside the church, the clapping, the singing, and the Colbie Callait playing from someones radio outside and making my adoration hour all "<Bubbly>. I needed this time because for the first time my heart was hanging with hers. She let me carry something with her--something that was too heavy for both of us, and that I needed to give to HIM. The silence (at least my own silence....) of kneeling in adoration and staring at the little white host saying--<I can't do anything>--was profound. I had no words to even explain the pain of Aberu I was carrying as I sat before Him. My silence in adoration was the silence of sitting with Aberu--there were no words to say. just pain. just communion. and HOPE. Before both Aberu and the Eucharist I was helpless. Before both I was silent. Before both I was in awe at the humility and beauty that were before me. Yet it was the Presence of Christ in the Eucharist that in the end made sense of it all. All our hopelessness in helping ourselves, healing and fixing one another, had recourse to prayer. All I could do was pray. The greatest and most powerful thing I could do was to pray.