Queridas Mamás

I passed a cool grey Mother’s Day in Trujillo, a colonial city north of Lima where I spent a week of vacation. After talking to my mom on the phone and wishing her a happy day, I spent the morning in the courtyard entrance of the Iglesia San Francisco.

Morning doves were cooing and I felt very peaceful as I thought about the mothers that visited our office the previous Thursday.

I had spent the week planning a small Mother’s Day celebration for the women. I was initially asked to just do a twenty minute time of relaxation and movement exercises with the guests. But by mid-week I found myself organizing most of the event, as the other psychologists were called out of town for a conference.

I felt honored to be left with the responsibility of creating a space that honored these women, all of whom are survivors of domestic abuse and mothers who are up against a wall of obstacles.

But I didn’t work completely alone. David, a psychology student interning with Paz y Esperanza, helped with the finishing touches as we cut out heart-shaped greetings cards and arranged chocolate “bon o bons” and votive candles around the table. He seemed a bit nervous about the program we had planned. Then, like a teacher declaring “pencils downs” at the end of an exam, David said, “Okay, let’s pray.”

Scissors down, I stood up next to David and we took a deep breath and he asked G-d to be with us during the gathering and to let it be a safe place for the women. I needed that. I needed the assurance that this was not just any party, but an invitation to something greater - a place of support and love and friendship. A sacred place.

With our minds at ease, we opened the doors and a group of twelve women entered, one carrying her baby grandson in a blanket. David was suddenly called upstairs and I was left among curious eyes that searched and questioned me. However, I felt more certain than ever that I was right where I was meant to be.

We arranged the chairs in a circle and I began some simple relaxation exercises. Deep breath in, and out. Slow head circles and shoulder rolls. Then I incorporated a short movement phrase, a warm-up from one of my dance classes in college.

This series of arm stretches and chest releases has shown up a lot this year. During orientation in Louisville, a group of us presented the phrase during our last worship service. On the beach in Mancora, Leslie, another YAV, and I greeted the morning in the same way.

And now, sitting among a diverse group of women from Huánuco, for whom the words “expressive movement” mean very little, it was obvious that it was something their body and soul longed for.

The next exercise involved mirrors. Not actual mirrors, but ourselves as the reflection of others. Each woman had the opportunity to create some spontaneous flowing movement, while the rest of the group followed along.

It became clear that no one else was willing to go first, so I started. And of course the ladies were hesitant. They are so rarely in control of their bodies, and when asked to move however they feel moved, it is an unfamiliar concept.

With some music in the background, I began moving my arms, in simple recognizable gestures – open palms inviting, closed palms praying, waving arms like ocean waves and rippling fingers like falling rain.

The woman who followed next caught on quickly and seemed uninhibited and very open. She traced shapes in the air with her palms together, and then rocked her head side to side with a peaceful smile.

Others were more restricted and uncomfortable, seeming very vulnerable. One particular woman sat arms crossed with her hand covering half of her face. She seemed to be frozen with anxiety, or boredom, I couldn’t tell. But then, suddenly, she threw her arms toward the center of the circle, with her had collapsed back. She proceeded to toss her head side to side, with a look of anguish, her eyes closed tightly with arms spread forward as if surrendering.

I began to really appreciate the time she took before moving. It was clear that she had something very strong to express. What the root of that expression was, I’m not sure. But it needed to escape.

A very young mother entered during the middle, carrying her one-month old son. I debated in my mind whether I should offer to hold the baby so she could participate more freely. But then I realized that we could incorporate her baby into a form of movement.

Mirroring the young woman, we all lifted our arms as if cradling a baby and rocked slowly back and forth, side to side, with eyes gazed downward. This was a very easy and natural movement for the women and in their faces I could see that it recalled something deep and meaningful for them.

The most delightful women to reflect was an elderly lady, who sat between her two daughters. She spoke mostly Quechua and her daughters had to explain the idea of the activity. Then, without much pause at all, she spread her shoulders and lifted her arms high in a giant body yawn. She tilted her chin upward with eyes closed. She continued to make wide circles with her arms, reaching toward the ground and then overhead as if an eagle in flight, all the while sustaining a carefree and elated toothless smile.

All I had to do was look around at the each of the woman’s faces to know how good they felt. They seemed more playful and energized than when they entered the room. And I felt inflated with gratitude to be able to share something I love with them.

***

Since the first activity required no words at all, I planned a get-to-know-you exchange in the form of partner conversations. Each pair of women was given a list of questions to ask her partner, an informal interview of sorts.

What special abilities do you have?
Describe the most beautiful moment in your life?
What is the most important thing you have learned from your mother?
What is one thing you would like to teach your children?

After a very chatty fifteen minutes, each woman stood up to introduce her partner to the group. Each spoke with such strength and respect for their partner, we couldn’t help but clap our hands and applaud each presentation. The simple questions only made me want to know these women more.

Before cutting the cake and passing out the heart-shaped cards and chocolate “bon o bons,” we had one more thing – a candle ceremony. David lit a large pillar candle and handed it to the son of one of the women, a little boy about five years old who, unfortunately, had a bit of a cold. He stood in the middle of the circle tightly holding the candle with both hands.

David dimmed the lights while I passed out a small tea-light candle to each of the women. One by one, they approached the center candle and lit their own. With the entire circle illuminated, David then invited each woman to think of a deseo or wish that they hoped for in their lives. And for most, this meant, more simply, a prayer.

Maybe some prayed for financial needs or for the health of their children. A prayer that something would change for the better. Or maybe, a prayer that they might feel whole. A prayer that they might be loved.

I can’t begin to imagine the depth of what these women hope and pray for. But in hoping for something better, maybe they will realize that they deserve something better. And in knowing they deserve something better, their life has the possibility to change.

Happy Mother’s Day Mom!