Morning arrives over the mountains out my window, and I am filled with memories before I am even fully awake. This is a day that changed my life permanently, put meaning into each hour, hurtling me headfirst into responsibility. Every day of the year, I think of this one and today it has rolled around again. It is my oldest daughter’s birthday.
Rising and putting my feet onto the floor, I stand, the way I do every morning, staring at the cross behind my bed. It is the Cristo Negro de Esquipulas, the famous Black Christ from a pilgrimage church in southern Guatemala, and I love to keep my eyes fixed on it as I pray. As always, I first commend my day to God, trusting that God will make everything turn out all right for me, and I say a special prayer for both my daughters, especially my Sandra Patricia on her birthday. I remember how hard that day was. My heart had hurt for my tiny daughter, who had had some physical problems when she was born. But now she is a healthy and grown woman, so I can feel very thankful for that. Amen.
I pass quietly into the kitchen, which is still a bit chilly in the early morning and peek out the window at my garden. Flowers are blooming everywhere, like splashes of paint on the green and I can see the hens making their way sleepily across the yard, looking for morning crumbs. My German shepherd, Viana, is sitting still, looking at the chickens with a curious look that makes me smile. In the distance, I can see over the tops of hills, over so many treetops to the other towns, and I think about all the women who might be looking out their windows into their gardens and over at my village. It is a cozy feeling to think of these other women…a cozy feeling in my cozy little wooden house on this important morning.
Looking back into the kitchen, my eyes roll over the ingredients I laid out last night to get ready for the party today. I am preparing a special lunch today for the birthday celebration, and of course a cake. I have just a few short hours to get some work done and prepare the food before my daughter comes over… I feel a sudden pang at that thought. Ten months ago, my girl left with one of these boys who made her promises and blah, blah, blah. She is living with him in a nearby town, but it rankles that she would go against my wishes. Although it has been almost a year, I feel the frustration fresh each time I think of it. Still, I cannot turn my back on her, so I support her and see her once a week…and prepare birthday cake, because whatever else, she is my firstborn and my blood.
Shaking off these thoughts, I decide to get some work done before starting on the cooking. Paperwork sits in a large pile, waiting for my attention. Being the director and headmistress of a junior high is a big responsibility, after all, and the end of the school year is just a month away. The school is just next door, in my old house, which I donated for that use, and I love to see all the students going in and out of those familiar rooms. The papers that await my pen are all the forms for graduation so that the older kids can go on to high school.
After an hour of work, I stop to stand up and stretch my aching back. It had been bothering me all month. A combination of stress from slow production for the women who work under me and all the pressure of helping with community events and other work that has sent tension spiraling up my spine. Then again, I think with a grin, there were plenty of fantastic moments that went with all that pressure this month. Back on the 11th, I traveled into Guatemala City with Maria, my leader and mentor, to be on live national television. When the cameras were rolling, I remember the fluttering feeling in my stomach as I talked to Tuti Furlan at the Guatevision Studio…and the swooping, giddy feeling of seeing my face later as we watched the playback. There I was for the whole country to see! I guess it made me feel in touch with all my fellow Guatemalans a little bit, and it was only a few days later, on the 15th, the whole country also celebrated Independence Day. We had been doing activities at the school to prepare for the event, since there is a parade in the community. Just like the Olympics, our town has a torch run through the streets to the center of town, then we have the procession, and everyone comes to be together at the flag in the center of town and enjoy ourselves. Even though I get stressed out, when I think about things like being on TV and seeing all the plans for Independence Day turn into a real event, I know that being a leader is worth it.
A look at the clock tells me that it I should be getting ready to cook for the big lunch. My mother, my younger daughter Jessika, and my brother come in to help with the various tasks of chopping, mixing, and cleaning to get everything ready. Usually lunchtime means that we get to eat and relax together. Actually, my favorite part of each day is the siesta after the meal, when the four of us sit together in the living room and watch the news. For an hour, we just sit together quietly watching and occasionally making a comment or having a little chat. Really, my family is so precious to me. All the more so today, the day I first became a mother. Our family will all gather together and sing for Sandra here in this house that we have built over these past two years.
Normally I wait until my bedtime, when I can again stand in front of my bedroom cross, to tell God thank you for the day. But right now, as I wait for the cake to finish, I whisper a little prayer in my heart, giving thanks for my family…the ones who live under my roof, the ones who do not, and the ones in heaven. I give thanks for this month full of events worth celebrating. I give thanks for the fullness of my life. This day that changed my life eighteen years ago is a good reason to look back at all the wonderful blessings that have come into it since, I think. Amen.
sandrasolares 