Gratitude

When Maria and her sisters got off the bus, the sidewalks were already overflowing with people. It was the Day of Our Lady of Guadalupe, and entire families were on their way to Morelia's historic center, to visit the Santuario de Guadalupe. The girls and women were brightly decorated. They wore wide blue skirts and white blouses embroidered with colorful patterns. They tied their long hair in a bun, and decorated it with flowers. The men, less colorful, displayed their fancy boots and best sombrero. The little boys were all dressed as the saint Juan Diego. They wore the traditional indigenous white pants, and had a black mustache painted on their face. On their back, they carried a small leather pack, and in their hand, they held a red rose. One day, thought Maria, I will be going to church with a cute Juan Diego of my own. Today however, she was not in the mood for people watching. She had a tough mission to perform. She prepared for it at home by wearing old sweat pants, tying her hair in a loose ponytail, and applying minimal makeup. Today, she will crawl to the church on her knees. Maria was not the athletic type; she disliked exercise as much as she liked to eat; yet despite her supple dimensions (she preferred to think of herself as feminine) this was a pledge she was determined to complete. Maria remained unusually quiet as she and her sisters moved slowly with the festive crowds.

Finally, the three sisters arrived at the entrance to the Calzada de San Miguel, the pedestrian alley leading to the church. It is about half a kilometer long, and paved with cobblestones. Trees line both sides of the alley and join above it in a green arc that keeps the alley cool and pleasant. At this afternoon hour, the alley was almost dark. They paused as they entered the shade. Maria looked for the church ahead, but could not see it. Hundreds, maybe thousands of people filled the narrow alley, blocking her view. She knew that interspersed within the dense crowd, would be dozens of believers making their way on their knees, just like she intends to do. The knowledge that she is not alone, gave her comfort. "Are you ready Gordita?" asked her older sister, using Maria's nickname in an attempt to cheer her up. Maria saw the love and concern on her sister's face, but just nodded in reply. Her sisters spread the first of the two blankets they planned to continuously place under Maria's knees to soften her ordeal, but Maria reconsidered, and in spite of her sisters' protestations, she had them remove the blanket. She slowly placed one knee on the bare stone, and then the second. The stones felt cold and hard. She closed her eyes, put her hands together, and prayed for strength. When she was done, she crossed herself, and took the first step.

Initially her movements felt awkward, but after a while, her body became accustomed to the new mode of locomotion. She moved slowly and calmly. The crowd passed by, avoiding her and forming around her a circle of quiet and respect. Many turned to stare, but she did not mind. She was proud of her devotion. Maria kept moving on as the afternoon was turning into night. To the left of the line of trees, she could see the paved walkway and its multitude of food stalls. The smell of barbecued meats was the most dominant, behind it, she could smell the potatoes frying in the deep oil pans, and fainter still she discerned the smell of barbecued corn. What she could not smell she could imagine: The sugar cane, the cotton candy, the ice cream, and the many other delicacies that she loved. There were just as many people snacking in the brightly lit walkway, as there were walking the more serene alley. Maria almost asked her sisters for a hot dog from her favorite stand, but decided to resist the urge. As if to test her will, some people carried the food from the stalls and consumed it while walking in the alley. From time to time, she had to deviate around disgusting salsa-covered litter. Maybe it was the annoyance with the litter, which eventually allowed her craving to subside. She kept moving, and slowly became absorbed in her thoughts and memories. The distracting surroundings faded, and she imagined her dear mother, sitting at home, waiting for her daughters to return. It was only last year that her mother started loosing her strength and vitality. Neither the curandero, nor the village doctor succeeded in making her mother well. Maria's daily prayers became longer and more intense, but her mother got weaker and weaker. One day, Maria took the bus to Morelia, went to the Santuario de Guadalupe, lit a candle, and asked the beloved Virgin to cure her mother. Maria pledged that if the Lady would do that, she would prove her gratitude by returning to the church on her knees. Miraculously, over the next few months, her mother's health improved, and now she is keeping her promise. Maria kept moving, focused inward, noticing neither time, nor pain.

The shrill sound of screaming children jerked her back to the present. She realized that she arrived at the amusement park, constructed for the holidays, just next to the food stalls. "More than halfway to the church." she thought, as she moved on. Amusement parks never held much of an attraction for her. However, gaining her sense of place, she also became aware of her body. Each time she lifted her leg, she felt a dull pain in her hips, which was followed by sharp pain, as her knees met the hard irregular stones. It was more than she could bear. She stopped, tears forming in her eyes. Her sisters rushed to her side and offered to hold her arms while she crawled. The option of relief reassured her, and renewed her resolve. She thanked her sisters and unassisted, moved on. More time passed. Her face turned red, and her body was drenched in sweat. She was tired, and she was in pain, but she had a debt to pay, and she will pay it in full.

The crowd thinned as the trio emerged from the alley into the plaza. They reached the large wooden doors, and her sisters lifted Maria over the threshold. Inside, the beauty of the church filled her with emotion, just as it did on her first visit. The whole interior glowed in dreamy pink. The bright gold on the walls filled her eyes and saturated her sensations. The walls were finely carved in intricate detail, and rose high over her head to reach the stained glass ceiling. From every facet of the carvings, glass gems reflected the candlelight in bright primary colors. This is what heaven must be like, she thought. The center isle was empty except for other pilgrims like Maria, making their way on their knees. The marble floor was cool and silky smooth. It comforted her knees, and made her feel as if she was effortlessly gliding forward. From the many paintings hanging on the walls, the Holy Virgin looked on, lovingly following her progress. She reached the priest standing at the altar and accepted the communion and his blessing. Now she allowed herself to cry. These were tears of joy and gratitude. She looked up at the beautiful dark woman behind the altar. Through her tears, she could see the Lady of Guadalupe warmly smiling at her. "Thank You" murmured Maria. She felt her Lady's hand gently caressing her cheek. "I love you my daughter" she heard her whisper softly.

Maria crossed herself and turned to leave. Her sisters rushed from the side aisle, and helped her to her feet. They hugged each other silently, rested for a while on a bench, and went out. The cool air outside brought with it the sounds, sights, and smells of the celebration. Maria turned to her sisters, a mischievous glint in her eyes. "Now, I would very much like a hot dog."