Women That WOW: Genie-Bee

There is a unique character in my life that you need know. Actually, it’s likely that you do. She’s Genie-Bee … my Mom. She knows everybody. It would be more accurate to say that everybody knows her. You think I’m kidding. Allow me to illustrate.

We were in a Florida rental condo on vacation a few years ago. We were on the third floor of a building where there is just one other unit and an elevator. One day, the owners of the adjacent condo were getting on the elevator as we were. Mom struck up her version of a Six-Degrees-of-Kevin-Bacon conversation, trying to find the common point of interest with any given stranger. By the time the doors opened on the ground floor, the man was yelling “…Oh my gosh, you’re that Genie-Bee?!” I kid you not. (In this case, it seems that the guy’s best friend in Wisconsin was a doctor my Mom consulted for.) I could go on, but there’s more you need to know about her.

Remember that poem that inspired the whole “Red Hat” movement? That could’ve been written about Mom. Only she’ll never be old. When you are with her, you think she’s about 16. She makes you feel about 16. She’s always giggling, smiling and telling silly stories about her antics. She has short hair, doesn’t wear much make up and is a casual kinda girl. But every time I look at her blue-green eyes when she’s telling one of her funny stories, I think, “She’s one of the most beautiful people I’ve ever known. This is what pure joy does for a person.”

She parks her car like a drunken sailor--sometimes illegally, but with her “crip” sign (as she calls it), no one ever says anything. She has great quotes that NEVER die like … “He who speaks next loses” (extremely useful in negotiations). Or … “If it rains on Easter Sunday, it will rain for eight more Sundays in a row.” Or, the one that I’ve been hearing a lot from her in recent years, “Fear is useless. What is needed is trust.” You see, Mom is largely defined by her faith. She has a complete and total trust that God will take of everything. And Mom is always right. She’s converted all kinds of people … by example … by telling them what they are doing wrong (!) or by taking them to Medjugorje with her. In fact, a couple of her doctors (who are more like sons to her) fondly call her “The Sword of the Lord.” You need another example.

This summer, Mom was the lucky recipient of a tax audit. Interestingly, she was assigned a first-time auditor who was intent on making a good impression with her boss. So, “Newbee” took the entire summer on this case, making Mom crazy. As they were wrapping up, Mom gave Newbee the old “one-two,” which usually goes something like this: “You know, ___(your name here)___, you have an amazing gift for ___(your talent here)__. You are truly one of the best I’ve ever encountered. I wouldn’t be surprise if you make a lot of money doing that in your future. But, you want to be careful, because you’re also ___(your weak trait goes here)___. That might be your downfall. However, if you can keep that in check, I wouldn’t be surprised if you are really, really successful.” In this case, she told Newbee that she was extremely well organized, but that she was obsessive compulsive. Yes, really. How does she get away with that? I don’t know. Interestingly, the recipient’s response is always … “How did you know that about me? Are you a psychologist?” and they leave thanking her or hugging her. Really.

I could go on for days about Mom. But I’ll leave you with my favorite “Genie-Bee” story. We asked everyone she knows to give us their best “Genie-Bee” story for her birthday a few years ago. This one was shared by my Aunt Cathy—who is gone now. I’d never heard this one before that day—but I’ll never forget it now. One summer, Mom and Aunt Cathy went to Ireland to visit their parents’ land and some distant cousins. They traveled to a rural area to spend a few days with a second cousin and her 5 year old daughter. Every day, the mother and daughter would walk two miles to a little school so that the little girl could swing on the playground there. Seems there wasn't much to entertain a small child in that part of the country.This family had little money, but was rich in love and hospitality. Soon it came time for Mom and Aunt Cathy to leave. They thanked their hosts, shared hugs and headed for the airport. Driving through the next town, Mom pulled over and ran into the Sears catalog center—leaving Aunt Cathy waiting in the rental car. According to Aunt Cathy, Mom ordered a swing set for the little girl, to be delivered to the home of the “cousins” the following week. That’s so Genie-Bee.

But Cheerios Aren't Very Colorful ...

Father’s Day. A young family sneaks into church just after mass has started and sits in the pew in front of us. They are perfectly groomed and in their Sunday best … a young mother, handsome father, baby boy (about 3 months); “big” brother (about 2 ½ years old) and “Mary Beth” (about 6 years old). Her name has been elegantly painted on her backpack. She is wearing a beautiful sundress, dainty shoes, a headband in her fair hair and a heart locket. Brother’s hair is styled, bangs to one side. He's wearing a little Ralph Lauren–style vest with his khakis. I recognize this family. The pretty young Mother is a friend of my sister’s; the little girl adored by my niece—(the divine Miss M).

Despite my effort to focus, I’m distracted from the sermon—watching them. Shortly after they arrive, the baby starts to fuss quietly. Big brother comes to the rescue immediately. He plays with him—smiling. Tickling. Soon the baby fusses again. With silent hand gestures, Mom signals Dad to pick up baby while she—in two quick motions (totaling less than one minute)—extracts a bottle and powdered mix in a plastic container and combines them to make a fresh bottle.

While she feeds the baby, Big brother opens his backpack. He extracts a craft kit that clearly Mom has prepared in advance to entertain the children for this hour. He finds a fat, sparkly, new blue shoelace. Then he takes out a tiny plastic container filled with colorful fruit loop cereal. With great contentment, he begins stringing the cereal, like beads, on the shoelace.

The mass continues. The family, children included, have been taking part. And they have been so very quiet and well behaved. Mary Beth pulls out her craft project. Her shoelace is sparkly pink. Her plastic container is filled with plain cheerios. We are at the point of the mass where a miracle occurs—plain bread and wine become the body and blood of our Lord. We are on our knees. Heads are bowed. For some reason, Mary Beth is frustrated. She spies her brother’s multi-colored fruit loops. She expresses a whispered complaint to her mother—who tries to quiet her for the moment. Mary Beth voices her point again—a little louder. “But cheerios aren’t very colorful!” she cries aloud. In one quick, silent movement, Mom opens both plastic containers—creates a new mixture of plain cheerios and colorful fruit loops and everyone is content again (with creativity having been nurtured in the process). I’ve now witnessed two miracles within the hour.

I think about how much preparation went into her morning getting this entire family church-ready. I think about her preparing the craft kits, the bottle ingredients, packing the backpacks, combing everyone’s hair, making sure their clothes were clean and pressed and caring enough to pay attention to the little details like hair bands and heart lockets. All for one hour … to honor God. Could there be a better prayer? I don’t think so.

The congregation stands. We share the sign of peace and wish the fathers in attendance a “Happy Father’s Day." Silently, I’m honoring this Mom today—and Moms everywhere.