Here in Guatemala, Mother’s Day is celebrated on May 10, no matter what day of the week it is. Women with children are allowed a day off from work to celebrate (though most do not get paid if they don’t work.) The celebration takes on a little different flavor, here, too, in that women together celebrate the day, rather than expecting their children to create a celebration for them.
(Most children do, however, and the children in the Hernandez family hosted a “refaccion” (tea) for us on the following Sunday. The entire family came it for this!)
So, Tuesday morning, I set out with Mari, Maria (her daughter-in-law) and a friend of hers, whose name for the life of me I can’t remember, and her daughter. Mari loves a very fancy restaurant up on one of the volcanoes near Antigua, so we headed up there for breakfast.
I have to admit that as much as I love Mari and Maria, the high point of my morning was spending time with Mari’s friend’s four year old daughter, whose name I also can’t remember! While we waited more than an hour for a table (this is a very popular place), the little one and I walked and talked and played and took pictures and had a wonderful time. I haven’t decided, yet, if this made me miss my grandsons more, or lessened some of my homesickness for them. Probably a bit of both.
What surprised me most, though, was
how surprised the other women were
that I wanted to spend time with the
little girl. I am seeing more and more
that Guatemalans, while they love their
children dearly, have very different
relationships with them. They may
play with them, though rarely, and
almost never carry on conversations
with younger children. I think this is
what this little one was thriving on—
someone talking with her, and
following her lead as to where she
wanted to go and what she wanted to
do. And I have to admit, I thrived on
having her undivided attention, too!
And, as I prayed this evening, I
couldn’t help but pray for all the
mothers I know here in this country
who are struggling on their own to
scrape out a subsistence living for
their children. (At left, Beatriz,
putting her daughter Luisa into her
wheelchair for the first time.)
I think of the mothers who must leave their disabled children at Hermano Pedro because they cannot care for them. (At right, Saundra, a single mother who must work each day to support her family, and her daughter Jessica, on the day she was admitted to Hermano Pedro.)
I can’t forget the women who must leave their children in the malnutrition ward here at Hermano Pedro, often while they are just newborn. I remember the pain of the 7 weeks my own daughter spent in the hospital because she was born prematurely and pray Jesus will soothe their hearts which ache to just hold their child.
(Virginia visiting her daughter Jessica in
the malnutrition project at Hermano Pedro.
To see more of her story, click here.)
(Week old Valentina, in the arms of
her grandma, before admittance to
Hermano Pedro. To read her story
click here.)
Lastly, today I grieve
with those mothers who
have lost children this
past year, due to
disease, disability, or
simply to lack of food or
adequate medical care.
(At left, Rony and his
mother at the National
Hospital, a few months
before his death last
February.)
As one young Guatemala girl (actually, it was Rony’s sister, Jessica) said to me a few years ago, “The life of a mother in Guatemala is not easy.” Writing this, I could almost feel overwhelmed at the suffering of these women. And then God brings me back to my prayer for this year—to love the one person before me at any time. And I praise Him for allowing me the privilege of bearing these women’s burdens with them, and pray for the next woman He will bring to me.
Please join me in this prayer.
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