Trying To Do My Job

It's my last day here. Lots of feelings. An overflow of gratitude and awe at all that has come my way, at so many, many invitations to dance with Love. And tears to leave people and a culture who have taught me so much.

I'm quite sure this isn't the last of Morocco you'll hear about from me. It took some time to pack things up after a month here, but the unpacking will be much longer.

Central to my experience here has been the man pictured above, Mohamed. In addition to his amazing care here at the riad —greeting me each morning as "M'lady," cooking fabulous and varied breakfasts, offering extra dinners, running immediately to the pharmacy at the first hint of a cold—he also invited me to him home, where his mother had prepared a grand feast, and where his 19 year-old niece, Malik, interpreted ALL DAY LONG so I could talk with the family. After being with them for over 7 hours when I said it was time for me to go, they asked me to please stay longer. Unbelievable.

One of the first mornings when I was thanking Mohamed for such lovely care, he responded, "I am just a little man trying to do my job." I wrote this poem in response:
 

PRAISEWORTHY*

You say:

I am
Just a little man
Trying
To do my job.

I say:

You are a cartful of strawberries
Perfuming
The whole street;

You are
The box of adorned cookies
—one sweet surprise after the next—
Delivered to my door;

You are
The basket of brown loaves
Warm
Shared with family
And beggars.

I say:

You are the Generosity of God.

But all this
Is just what two mortals
Say.

Do you want to know
What
God says?

He whispered it
In my ear,
Just to pass along to you.

God says:

Here
Is
My beloved son
In whom I am
Well
Pleased.

*the meaning of the name Mohamed

Soul Friend, I, too, am just a little person, trying to do my job, as best I understand it. I pray to keep at it with the steadiness and joy of my friend, Mohamed.

May it be so, for all of us, to grow small and to just do our job, which, quite simply, is to love and let ourselves be loved. To let the chalice of our lives become expansive in receiving and giving. To really hear—perhaps from a friend whispering it to us— that we are, indeed, the beloved child of God, in whom God is well pleased.