On Thriving Through Chaos and the Sweetness of My Amá's Prayers

Am I allowed to say that I'm thriving when there is so much chaos in the world right now? 

A little over two weeks ago I stopped posting my daily #quarantinemeals posts on both my instagram and Facebook because I had a fleeting moment of guilt. I was participating in a local community forum in a daily post where we are encouraged to post what we made for dinner. On that day, I had a particularly hard day at work and I went home to cook the three different meals for the family (we all have different likes/needs) as my form of self-care. The girls were excited to eat their spaghetti with meat sauce, Juan loved his mash potatoes with white rice, and the Wolf and I enjoyed our chickpea and quinoa tacos. After dinner I went into the forum to post my photos and the list of ingredients I used and I was immediately met with a comment that said, "It must be nice to have so much food that you can prepare three different meals. Why not just give everyone spaghetti?"

This person wasn't wrong. They had every right to call me out for having more than they did. They had every right to feel whatever they were feeling in that moment because the posting of my food, or my ingredients, or the amount of meals I made triggered something within them and made them feel less than. Instead of commenting, I put my phone down and enjoyed the rest of the evening with the kids and Juan. I wasn't going to let that person yuck my yum simply because my needs were different than theirs. But that feeling was temporary.

I went to bed that night with a really uneasy feeling in my heart. I began to think about all the times I had gotten asked how I was doing or how the kids were doing and I would respond with, "I'm doing great." or "The kids are thriving learning at home." And I wondered who I had offended with my responses, or if the state of my happiness caused someone to be unhappy. Some major mental inventory went on before I went to bed and the dream that happened that night had me talking to my amà about guilt. In my dream I sat down with her and began telling her about the guilt that I was feeling with having enough food to feed my family while so many others don't have enough. If any of you have ever heard my amà's sarcastic laugh, insert that sound here. 

In my dream she asked me, "¿Realmente te importa lo que la gente piense de ti?" I guess she found it odd that I would worry what people thought about me. 

I replied, "No quiero que la gente piense que estoy presumiendo que mi familia está muy bien. Temo que parece insensible para aquellos que están luchando en este momento." I admitted to her that I didn't want to come across as boastful or insensitive to those families who were struggling to put food on the table. I started crying in my dream. It wasn't one of those cries where there are slow tears coming down my cheeks; it was a deep sobbing cry that is typically reserved for intense emotional pain. The final words I remembered when I woke up was her telling me the famous words she would always share with us when we were little, "Llora cuando tu madre muera, pero no por algo tan pequeño como esto." Growing up, that statement was my amà's passive-aggressive way of telling me I was being a crybaby, and the same way it got me to stop crying when I was a child, I also stopped crying in my dream. 

While I was at work later in the day, I called my mom to let her know that I had the bag of rice she had asked me to pick up on my next shopping trip. Porch drop-offs and multiple phone calls a day is our new normal because of this pandemic. I haven't hugged her or been inside her home for five weeks now, but between my four siblings and my family, we always make sure she has everything she needs so she doesn't leave her home. She was excited that I was stopping by and let me know that she was making chicken and rice that day and would make an extra batch for me to take home. 

The porch exchange was successful.

When I arrived to her home, I approached her front door whistling and I could hear the 5:00 news blasting in her kitchen. I let her know I was there after placing her things down on the bench outside. She must have heard me whistling because she met me at her door and asked me to sit down outside because she wanted me to taste the rice. I told her I couldn't eat it because it was cooked with chicken stock, but that I would take it home to the family. She said, "No te preocupes. Te tengo un plato especial para ti." My amà made me my own serving without using chicken stock and invited me to sit 6 feet away from her. 

My amà's instincts immediately kicked in and she asked me about the kids, Juanito, and myself. I told her everyone was doing great and the kids were loving being at home. She asked how the three of them were doing in school and if they were struggling because she was hearing people on the news complain that it is really hard to have schooling happen at home. I was happy to tell her that her grandkids were thriving, that they were successful in distance learning and thriving academically. She pointed to her chest with both thumbs and proclaimed, "¡Bueno, es porque ellos son Ramírez!" There she was again, always taking the credit for the family's intelligence! 

I began to tell her about my dream and how I went to bed sad the night before. I explained how the whole #quarantinemeals posts began as a way to connect with folks from my theater community who were sharing the meals they would make for their families. I shared with her how I was discovering new Peruvian dishes by following Rosa Navarrete and I was learning how to blend more vegetables into my dishes by following Roberta H. Martinez. I told her that Claudia Elizabeth Duran was teaching her little sister to cook during this pandemic. And I even told her about the time Elvia Susana Rubalcava made nopales for the first time, from scratch! I didn't realize I had tears in my eyes when I was sharing this with her. She asked me, "¿Entonces, cuál es el problema?" That's when I blurted what my problem was, choking on my own tears. 

She let me sit there for a few minutes as I shoved the rice in my mouth. I ate so I wouldn't have to speak anymore. I ate because my mom makes her food with love and I needed to feel that love in that moment. After all, food is also her love language. 

Tasting my amá's special batch of rice she made me. 

My amá asked me the following questions:

"¿Lora, sigues trabajando?" = am I still working? To which I shook my head up and down. 
"¿Estás cocinando por tu propia familia o alguien viene a tu casa a cocinar?" = are you cooking for your own family or is someone coming to your house to cook? To which I responded that I wished someone would come to my house to cook. 
"¿Te han dicho que estás ofendiendo a alguien cuando pones tu comida en las ventanitas?" = has someone told you that you have offended them when you share your food in the "little windows" (Facebook) I responded that I have received positive feedback, both publicly and privately, that my posts were fun to interact with. 

She paused a few moments before saying that if it is not my intention to offend anyone, and if it is also not my intention to be boastful, then I should continue to post my meals if it brings me joy. She said she would continue to pray for all of her children, grandchildren, and for everyone to have enough food on their tables and good health. Can I tell you how hard it was to fight back my instinct to hug her? She delivered the right dosage of love and emotional support to carry me through the rest of the day.

A few days later we drove back over to her house to drop off groceries. As we drove through her neighborhood, I said to Juan, "Stop, I think that's my mom walking over there." We slowed down as we approached her and I rolled the window down. I asked her what she was doing alone walking so far from home (for the record, she was halfway around the block, which is hardly far lol). I could tell she was smiling with the way her cheeks pushed up her mask higher on her face. She held up her gloved hand with a rosary hanging from it and said, "Estoy rezando por la familia y por el mundo, como te dije el otro dia. Te doy mis bendiciones."

From my amá to you, sending you all the blessings.

My amà walking around the block while praying the
rosary for all of us, praying we all have enough.