Invisible women

Invisible women

No one sees them.  They are locked away, forgotten, and in most cases, disappear from their children’s lives.  Their stories might show up in the news or make an appearance as another number in the statistics before they are erased from society.  Out of sight, out of mind. These are the women incarcerated in the Chilean penal system.

 Three women sat around my dining room table last week: a “carabinera” (Chilean policewoman), the head of the social work department of a local college, and a social worker about to retire.   They had planned a mother’s day activity at the prison with permission to have a party including the children of the mothers in jail and mothers whose daughters were in jail. They spent the day travelling all over the region picking up the family members, fixing up the space for the party, and organizing people from the community to lead games, do beauty treatments, and make gifts.

  “I picked up seven cousins, all under twelve years of age, who have their three mothers in jail; an elderly grandmother cares for them all.  I had to help dress the children, ironing their moist clothes, still not dry after hanging over a charcoal burner.  They were shocked at seeing a police woman ironing!”  “A grandmother let me pick up her granddaughter on the condition that I stop into her windowless house, spotless in the middle of one of the shantytowns, to have a cup of tea.” 

The stories spill out, one after another.   I listen and ask questions; they come to these conclusions:  “We must do more.  One day in and out of their lives is wrong.  We will create the first organization in Chile to attend to the needs of women deprived of their freedom as well as their families.  We will research. We will get volunteers. We will know everything there is to know about women in prison.  We will find ways to keep their children from following their mothers into a life that leads to prison. We will support women whose daughters are in prison.”   Around my table, as we savor “picarones” (fried dough smothered in a kind of syrup), the “Mosiacos” (Mosaics) Foundation is born.  “We will raise our voices for those who have lost their voice: we will tell the stories that have not been told.  We will paint a mosaic of hope for these invisible women.”

Mindfulness

My nephew, Jonathan, recently posted an article on his Facebook page that we will use in our new trauma healing materials.  It is about mindfulness, about being attentive to the here and now.  I think that when I am in contact with nature is when I am the most mindful.  My thoughts don´t wander to the past; worries about the future dissipate.  With the mountains, rivers and trees I am here, now.  I am more aware of my cold fingertips and warm toes, the crisp winter breeze lifting my hair, the bird call far away - faint but I hear it even above the roar of the water fall.  Even food tastes different here.  I am aware of flavors: cheese, olives, alfalfa sprouts, almonds, carrots, lettuce.  I don´t need any salt or dressing on the salad I eat outside.  I am more aware of what I am thinking - and take time to sit with my thoughts.  I remember when Jonathan was a child, his mother asked him why he was laying on the grass doing nothing.  He answered, "I am doing something.  I am thinking!"  How do we teach kids today to contemplate, to be mindful?  By introducing them to the mindfulness required of nature when we venture out to explore.

My Dad

My father has given me a hope chest full of treasures.  Today, I open that chest to share with you these gifts.

*Faith - My father believes and practices Hebrew 11:1: "Now faith is the assurance of things hoped for, the conviction of things not seen."
*Relationship with God - Having an open, respectful, fun and full of surprises relationship with my earthly father opened the door for me to want to have a relationship with my Heavenly Father.
*The capacity to dream -  One of my father's favorite questions when we were kids was "What would you do if you had a million dollars?"  Until now, I have never had a million dollars, but I have never stopped dreaming!
*Believe in me and believe in others - My dad has always believed in me and my dreams.  He always expects the best of me and encouraged me to give my best.  He has taught me to seek the best in others, even when it isn't apparent.  My dad is the same wherever he is.  He can enter a humble adobe home and be respectful, kind, attentive as well as a palace.  He doesn't chance to impress others; he honors all.
*Love of nature - by my father's hand I learned to pick up trash even though I wasn't the one who dropped it, to breath in deep while walking in the forest, to paddle a canoe, to stop and watch the sunsets.
*Balance between play and work - My dad, over 80 years old, still knows how to play.  He feeds his imagination with toys and books, caring for his spirit, to be able to be creative and energetic when it is time to work.
*Self discipline - my dad gets up early even when he doesn't need to.  He schedules himself.  He makes lists.
*The importance of exercise - I learned to ride a bike and play baseball with my dad.  I remember him doing his exercises in the morning.  I love to go walking with him at sunset.
*Ministry - I will never forget when he said to me: "my ministry to the needs of these people is more important than any theological discussion we could have."  I hope to minister to each person according to their needs and not to theological arguments. My father knows how to walk alongside others at their pace.
*He recognizes his errors and he is not afraid to ask forgiveness.
*Shalom - My father is a person of peace, seeking peace for himself and others.

It all started with Sunday School and Vacation Bible School

Seventeen years ago, Rebeca and I began working with a group of young people creating the Sunday School program for the Pentecostal Church of Chile.  The Shalom Center is the natural outcome of the work with these children, many of whom now cooperate with the Shalom Center!

Fall at the Shalom Center

I had a wonderful time this afternoon at the Shalom Center enjoying a beautiful sunset with the fall colors.

            Journal

A bee jumped in my journal today, searching

            frantically on a blank page.

I tried to explain that day hadn’t arrived, yet.

            That tomorrow was hours in the future

            empty lines waiting to be filled.

Bee, buzz a lifetime from bud to bud

            pollinating tirelessly as you search of the contents

of your work’s fruit.  Your job is sweetness

but do you ever stop to let the blank

lines stand witness to your day?

In my journey I wish to work filling

            others with honey, giving life to flowers

as I travel.  But at times along the way,

            I will stop to take a sniff,

            to drink in, to savor, to touch, to listen,

            for no  one else but my own self.

July 16, 1993

Pantanal, Brazil

Elena Huegel