Artista de Flores

Several weeks ago, I posted a piece about Ines, God as a Maid. This week is especially hard for me because it's our last week in Guatemala (this weekend we continue our journey onward to El Salvador). For a couple dollars, she comes weekly to clean the lake house and leaves these beautiful flower arrangements that nourishes our daily lives. I'm so blessed and inspired by the beauty she offers. I've been baking her bread shaped like leaves and flaky pain aux raisins (placing my gifts inside her drawstring bag...es por ti). When it comes time for Ines to leave, she places a hand over her heart and says that she is sad to see us go. The feeling is real. Then comes a hug shared only among family. I say good-bye and call her by her name, arista de flores.

Every day, it seems I walk the tightrope; the fine line between the path to love and the path that separates. There are things that I still try to control...like my feelings, the world around me, trying to make things better for others. I forget that even in the hardest times, when the ephemeral moment passes, when it's time to let go, as difficult as it is for me, I place my hand over my heart and trust. And Ines carries me back to love.