Daddy’s little girl had grown up before his eyes. She sat across from him in a rented limousine. It was not her wedding day, but the day she accepted the Open Heart Award. She wore a special, light-pink gown, which she had borrowed from her mother, and he wore a black tuxedo. She was embarrassed to be surrounded by all this wealth. Her father, a businessman, could afford the finer things in life - a mansion in the suburbs, expensive annual vacations. She lived more modestly. She worked at an Ethiopian nonprofit organization and lived in the city.
Her mom and siblings were waiting for the limo to pick them up, so they could all attend the ceremony together. Her family was no stranger to award-winning moments. They had excelled in school and at work. They were constantly recognized for their achievements through plaques, monetary prizes, honorary titles, and more. The family was basically living the American dream. Their lives were structured in a way that was similar to the Cosby show, but who had time for television anymore?
The slick limousine was on schedule. It carried precious cargo. The award was being presented at the Ethiopian Embassy. The Open Heart Award was given annually to a community member who displayed courage in the face of adversity. The event was catered by a local Ethiopian restaurant. Extravagant veggie combos and kitfo (beef), along with tibs (lamb), were prepared for the evening. A coffee ceremony took place. It was heartening to see so many familiar faces. Everyone filled their belly. There was live poetry and music. It was a family-friendly affair.
The speakers were nostalgic for life in Ethiopia. They painted pictures of gardens with rivers flowing. Ethiopia was a slice of paradise. It was peaceful, heaven on earth. The beauty of linguistically, ethnically, and religiously diverse groups of people coming together to honor shared values was truly something to celebrate. It was priceless.
The evening’s moderator infused humor in his narration. Ethiopians loved to laugh, but they were critical. Their analytical nature always allowed them to guess the predictable punchline. When it was her time to speak, this year’s awardee stood up and walked behind the podium in front of the large group. Cameras flashed as she cleared her throat. Then after a pregnant pause, she quoted Scripture, “Out of the abundance of the heart, the mouth speaks (Matthew 12:34).”
As long as Ethiopians kept their hearts open, their words would reflect what and whom they held most dear. Essentially, we all speak from the heart. So, what is the condition of our heart? Is it filled with hope and compassion or judgment and criticism? This speech highlighted the efforts of noble men and women who put their beloved nation first. It truly inspired.
The next day, the news was filled with stories of full-scale conflict in Ethiopia. A sadness loomed over the loss of life in deadly massacres within her borders. From rejoicing to weeping, Ethiopians suffered a great deal overnight. The pain was off the charts. More than anything, Ethiopia needed to see herself in the written record. The text provides a much-needed mirror to cultivate understanding. We have forgotten who we are, and no award will bring back those we lost. Yet, we must strive for brighter days. We need a period to mourn, to rest. But then will we be strong enough to rebuild, to see days without tears, without incessant rain? We need to see the sun again, feel her warmth, and bask in her rays. Love to Ethiopia and to the Ancient of Days. Will we return to the way…?
Comments