A Story In Which I Identify With Martha

I didn’t write on Friday because I was planning for the International Women’s Day that my church was hosting on a péniche (a long boat) located on the river Seine just across from the Louvre.

I didn’t write yesterday because I was recovering from it.

It wasn’t just the Women’s Day. It was the 2 weeks of my husband being gone, and my daughter’s trip to the Emergency Room (she’s fine – no broken bone, just cartilage). It was my classes starting back up. And it was the fact that I had agreed to make 36 cupcakes for the event – in addition to writing, directing, and acting in the comedy skit that would kick off the event. In French.

That was a huge challenge for me. I was asked to do it because I’m a writer. But I’m not a comedy writer, as evidenced by my numerous rejections to comedy forums where they tell me to “submit somewhere that’s not focused on humour,” not to mention the comments I get when I post something humorous, akin to “What happened, dear?” Concern and consolation, but not laughs.

And then there’s the French. I mean, I get by and all, but let’s face it; I’m haven’t mastered the nuances well enough to even attempt writing anything, much less something funny that is meant to be performed.

So let me tell you how it went down. I asked MJ and Beth to come brainstorm some ideas to fit the theme “Because You’re Worth It” and we came up with some great ideas. I sent the first draft to comic master Shari, who asked if I couldn’t have all the dialogues happening at once, interrupting one another. I made the changes and sent it to a bunch of people and got the stamp of approval. Then I did google translate, tweaked the weird translations, and sent the script.

Our first session was spent working on the dialogue together and putting it in appropriately funny French. We only had two rehearsals and one week to perfect it, and the day before our first rehearsal I already had a cancelation from Liliam. I was ready to scream from rage. “How am I going to pull this thing off if I can’t count on people to be here?!”  I expressed it all (but not to the person, whose fault it was NOT since her kid was sick) and found a last-minute stand-in.

The event was Saturday, and for our Friday night rehearsal, I had a second cancelation. Beth. All the swear words were swirling around in my head. And, um, no – I don’t swear. By choice. But they were coming unbidden in a torrent in my thoughts. I expressed it again to a safe person – not Beth, whose fault it was NOT. In fact, she ended up having to go to the hospital, and is still there with an unidentified infection.

So I found a second stand-in – Gilda – who graciously offered to come to the rehearsal, despite the fact that she was just returning from a week-long family vacation and still had all the cakes to make for the Women’s Day. Danila offered to quickly memorise the speaking part so that Gilda would only have to do the miming and the last line. We were pretty bad that night – forgotten lines, blank stares, giggles from the people that were supposed to be provoking them. At 11PM I told them to go home and get a good night’s sleep, while I went to make my cupcakes for the next day.

Are you starting to get an idea here? 🙂 So the morning of, I taught my English classes as usual and left immediately afterwards with my packed sandwich to drive into Paris. I got to the boat and discovered that only half the troop was there. In fact, Gilda, who so graciously agreed to stand in last minute, would not make it in time to perform, due to trouble finding a parking spot, and the fact that she dumped her entire stash of lovingly-made cupcakes on the ground.

So, with a half-hour to go, I begged Alberte to stand in for the non-speaking part (as she had earlier expressed a willingness to perform), but she was caught up in name-tags and registration and brushed me off. (It was not intentional, and she and I are good). But all the rage came flooding back, all the internal swear words. Meanwhile my troop was milling around like lost sheep, chatting with this person and that, while I was trying to get them to realise that this was the dress rehearsal and the entire thing was going to crash and burn if they were not all hands on deck!!!!!

“Sabrina,” I screeched. “We’re on! Get over here!”

Let me just take a moment to laugh at myself and remind you all that this was for a CHURCH event. Long story (not very) short, I apologised for my anger and impatience before we performed. We found a stand-in with less than 30 minutes to go, and the skit was amazing. No one forgot their lines. Everyone was expressive and remembered all the directions. And the audience was howling with laughter at this non-comedy-writer’s lines.

And the last minute stand-in? It was Liliam – the first person to bail who provoked my very first fit of rage – proving the Lord is gracious and forgiving (of all my sin), that he has got it all under control . . . and that he has a very good sense of humour.

One of the analogies the minister’s wife spoke of was about the time management specialist, who filled a glass jar with some large stones until it was full, and then asked the students if there was any room left? When assured that there wasn’t, he then added gravel until it sifted all the way down. Then sand. Then water. He asked the students what this was supposed to represent regarding our time management, and someone piped up  – as if from my very own heart – you can always fit one more thing in if you only try.

I had heard the analogy before, but had forgotten the point. And the point was – no, not that you can fit one more thing in if you try, but rather – if you don’t put the big rocks in first, you will never fit them in.

I was floored.

If you know the Bible a bit, you know the story of Mary and Martha. If you’re not familiar with it, let me just give you a little background information. Their brother was Lazarus, who was sick, and who Jesus raised from the dead after he had been gone four days. (Jesus also raised a widow’s only son from the dead during his funeral procession, as well as a gentile official’s daughter who was twelve years old).

Mary was probably the sinful woman who – at Simon the Pharisee’s house – first poured expensive perfume on Jesus’ feet and wiped it with her hair (Luke 7:36-50). She was definitely the one who poured perfume on his head at Simon the Leper’s house (was it the same man?) in Matthew 26,Mark 14 and John 12.

John 11:2 leads me to believe it was the same person who did both, the latter event to prepare Jesus’ body for burial. And she did it because she was so grateful for his forgiveness. You see, she was a “sinful woman.” That probably means she was promiscuous, and known to be such. The only way she could have avoided being stoned was by being a prostitute.

So, Martha has this sick brother and this disgraced sister. What do you think her personality was like?

Right. The caretaker. The one who holds everything together because if she doesn’t, who will? So here’s the story that gets me every time. in Luke 10:38-41:

As Jesus and his disciples were on their way, he came to a village where a woman named Martha opened her home to him. She had a sister called Mary, who sat at the Lord’s feet listening to what he said. But Martha was distracted by all the preparations that had to be made. She came to him and asked, ‘Lord, don’t you care that my sister has left me to do the work by myself? Tell her to help me!’

‘Martha, Martha,’ the Lord answered, ‘you are worried and upset about many things, but few things are needed – or indeed only one. Mary has chosen what is better, and it will not be taken away from her.’

Honestly. Can you blame Martha? I mean she holds it all together while her sister is off galavanting around, and now that her sister has finally cleaned up her act and they have the honour of having Jesus in their home, ALL the prep work is left up to her? Her sister just gets to sit and gaze adoringly at their guest while SHE has to pick up the slack and do everything ONCE AGAIN?

(chuckle). I don’t know. I relate. As I was running around asking everyone to please gather in one place and begging Alberte breathlessly to help me, I was so mad at God. “God, can’t you see I’m trying to do this stupid skit for YOU? Don’t you care that my sister has left me to do all the work myself? Tell her to help me!”

I feel humbled by the message my heart received. “Jennie, Jennie. You are worried and upset about many things, but few things are needed – or indeed only one.”

In the end, as I said, the skit was amazing, and I was able to relax afterwards, absorb the message, and cry as two of my friends shared about being rejected by their own parents (I had only known part of story). I was able to reflect on what my “large rocks” were in life, and realise that I’m instead filling my jar with the gravel so that there’s no room for the important things.

Yesterday was the first time I actually toyed with the idea of closing my blog. Just writing books and living my small life and not worrying about the dailiness of it all. In the end, I don’t plan to because it’s not the writing that bothers me – it’s the stress of trying to do it all and not being able to fit it in.

I think (without having any concrete plans for achieving this) the writing will have to be my gravel, my sand, my water. I need to put the big rocks of my life in first – God, my well-being, my marriage and family. And I need to let God sort out the rest so that it can also be said of me, “Jennie has chosen what is better, and it will not be taken away from her.”

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