WordSisters

Tag: Elizabeth di Grazia

  • When Differences Become Normal

    When Differences Become Normal

    Guatemalan women washing clothes at a creek.
    Guatemalan women washing clothes at a creek.

    By far, my most cherished moments in my recent trip to Guatemala were observing my children’s happiness. Seeing them smile, listening to their laughter, and seeing how at ease they were in their own skin.

    This was our fourth trip back to their birth country. Our first trip was June of 2010 when they were 7. Sitting high on our horses, we walked through villages put together with sheets of tin, boards, paper, and straw. The front and back yards were dirt. Hoses were strung and used for bathing children in a tub. To the dismay of Juan and Crystel, I waved and hollered, “Hola.” They shushed me. “People live there,” I’d say in reply pointing to another shelter. “We know. Ssssh.”

    On that first trip, every time I saw a boy with a load of wood on his back, walking barefoot, or planting in the field, I wanted to poke Juan and  Crystel. Wake them up to make sure they didn’t miss what I was seeing. The importance of it all. The women carrying heavy baskets on their head, the girls with a baby or small child strapped to their back, meat hanging in the open market, the bright orange lava flowing down the side of Volcano Pacaya.

    A man carrying boards up a trail to the next village.
    A man carrying boards up a trail to the next village.

    They seemed to want to run away from the sights.

    We were all startled. On our return to the United States, the four of us would have kissed the ground under the Welcome to Houston sign if we weren’t running north as quickly as we could.

    Two years later when they were nine, we returned to Guatemala to meet Juan and Crystel’s birth families and to travel to Lake Atitlan.

    At Lake Atitlan we had young Guatemalan men as guides.

    Knowledgeable about their country and heritage, they answered our questions and shared their stories. It was with Juan and Crystel, that they had a different purpose—to show them that they should be proud to be Guatemalan.

    IMG_0518 (1)During this fourth trip, I was even more aware of the relationship that our guide, Alex, had with Juan and Crystel. He had endeared himself to them as well as to Jody and me. He welcomed us and our friends, Pat and Mary, into his home. His family took a day trip with us to Hot Springs Fuenta Georginas, outside of the Mayan Village of Zunil, Guatemala. By sharing his family, his wife and two children, he provided us all with another experience—being around a Guatemalan family in Guatemala and seeing him as a loving father.

    Our trips changed me. I no longer felt as if I needed to elbow the children.

    This time, I heard Juan say, “Did you see that boy with the three cement blocks?” The Guatemalan boy had stopped to take a rest. The blocks must have matched his weight.

    Crystel poked me and held out a fresh sprig of basil for me to smell.

    Bringing home firewood for cooking.
    Bringing home firewood for cooking.

    I can still surprise my children. I gave a loud two handed whistle and hollered to let our friends know that the public boat we were on was coming to their dock. I surprised the other Guatemalans as well. This time instead of being shushed, Crystel told me that I needed to teach her how to whistle like that.

    My experience is that when difference becomes normal the world is pretty darn awesome.

    Thanks to Nancy Hoffman of Guatemala Reservations for introducing my family to Lee and Elaine Beal. We have stayed at Los Elementos Adventure Center on Santa Cruz la Laguna on our last 3 trips to Lake Atitlan. Juan and Crystel would have it no other way. Thanks to the Beal’s for training guides like Alex Vincente Lopez for us who come to learn the heritage of Guatemalans and to see the beauty of the country.

  • Two Moms, A Sister, and a Boy Scout

    Two Moms, A Sister, and a Boy Scout

    Taking the dental supplies to the clinic through the streets of Anitqua, Guatemala
    Taking the dental supplies to the clinic through the streets of Antiqua

    When Juan Jose was ten, he was dumped in the Brule River not once, but twice when I was at the helm of our canoe. Without help from strangers, we would not have made it to the landing.

    He’s almost 14, and he recently completed a comprehensive water-based safety course that involved practicing self-rescue and rescuing other kayakers with his Boy Scout troop in Lake Superior. These are necessary skills for the wilderness cold water kayaking that he’ll be doing in Alaska with the Scouts this August.

    Juan didn’t join Scouts to learn how to navigate water. He joined Scouts to learn what his two moms and sister couldn’t teach him.

    I became a Cub Scout leader by default. He wouldn’t let me drop him off while I ran errands for an hour.

    Dentist Hugo, Juan Jose, Hygenist
    Dentist Hugo, Juan Jose, Hygienist

    When it was time for him to cross over to Boy Scouts, he decided to stay in scouting. This surprised me. I was preparing myself for a free evening. Instead, I trained to be an assistant Boy Scout leader. He still wasn’t ready for a parent to drop and run.

    Juan was pulling away from me though. I no longer went to all of his campouts. When I did go, he was caught up in the flow of scouts running from one event to another.

    Today, he completed his Eagle Scout project in Guatemala. He raised funds for children to receive dental care, and he collected over 130 lbs. of toothbrushes, toothpaste, floss and dental supplies .

    Juan gave the children sunglasses so they wouldn't be blinded by the light. That's how it is done at his dentist in Richfield.
    Juan gave the children sunglasses so they wouldn’t be blinded by the light. That’s how it is done at his dentist in Richfield.

    The money he raised enabled 14 dental cleanings, 34 extractions, 31 fillings, and 28 sealants. Care that these children would not have received otherwise.

    He gave one suitcase of dental supplies to the dentist and a suitcase of toothbrushes, toothpaste, and floss to De Familia a Familia. This organization is a link between birth and adoptive families. They have over 260 families that they are currently working with.

    Juan couldn’t have done this project without help from relatives, friends, neighbors, and strangers.

    And, his two moms and sister.

    Six teeth extracted and a dental cleaning.
    Six teeth extracted and a dental cleaning.

    Because of all of us, he’s learned to navigate waters and to pull himself back into his kayak.

    Thank you.

  • If he’s Juan, Am I still his mom?

    If he’s Juan, Am I still his mom?

    Crystel and Juan Jose
    Crystel and Juan Jose

    Though I supported Juan changing his name, I was worried, too. I thought he’d feel adopted. All of his life, all 13 years, Jody and I had known him as Antonio. If he was now Juan, did that wipe out all the years he was Antonio, our son? I was worried that he wouldn’t feel a part of our family or our son anymore. I was worried about the distance that would organically occur from having been Antonio to now being Juan.

    I changed my name in 2002. I used to be Ann Smith. I wanted to shed my past. Antonio, on the other hand, wanted to claim his past.

    Maybe it was because I had changed my name and knew how important it was to claim one’s identity that I was able to temper my fears. I didn’t speak of them. Instead, I took Antonio out of school and drove him to the Hennepin County Courthouse to put his name application in. On the way, I spoke to him about how people would still call him Antonio just like they still called me Ann after I changed my name. Call me what you want, I thought then. I’m changing my name for me. I told him that he could decide to not care whether people called him Antonio or Juan and it might be less stressful. I explained that in time what name people called him would change and at some point when someone called him Antonio, he would know that they knew him from that part of his life. All the new people he met from here on out would know him only as Juan.

    To ease my name change from Ann to Elizabeth I decided to tell people that they could call me Beth Ann. Beth Ann felt like a stepping stone to Beth. Even before then I had to ask myself what I wanted to be called. Did I want to be Elizabeth, Liz, Lizzy, or Beth?

    When Antonio and I stood at the window the clerk taking our information was confused. He became even more confused after he asked me what Antonio’s name was changing to and I looked to Antonio for clarity.

    After I turned back to the clerk, I read the furrow that had developed between his eyes: How could this mother not know the answer to what her kid’s name is going to be? How could she be allowing him to make the decision? Wouldn’t this have been figured out before this moment?

    The clerk pushed pen and paper towards us. “Write it down. First. Middle. Last.”

    I slid the paper over to Antonio. He wrote, Juan Jose – first name. Antonio Sol – middle. di Grazia – last.

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    Until then I wasn’t sure that Antonio was going to keep any of his name. Maybe he would just want to be Juan Jose and drop the Antonio Sol.

    In the coming days I stayed attentive to see if there was any distance between Juan and me. Any sign of rebellion now that he wasn’t Antonio but this new guy Juan Jose. I worked to call him Juan Jose, correcting myself when I said Antonio, remembering how respected I felt when someone called me Beth after I changed my name.

    The distance didn’t come. I’m sure it was helped by still needing to be this 13-year old’s mom and asserting my momship. Juan Jose was tardy to his sixth hour class. This was his 13th tardy of the year.

    “You don’t understand, Mom,” he’d say to me. He’d go on to explain the difficulty, the impossibility of getting from one class to another on time.

    “I want to understand,” I’d say. “That’s why I’ll walk you from one class to another to experience it first-hand.” I added, “ And since I’m there, I’ll just sit next to you in class.”

    This wasn’t new to Juan. When he was Antonio, I had already done this twice before during the school year and a number of times during sixth grade.

    But, it appeared that I needed to up the ante because I wasn’t understanding his difficulty. After spending his sixth period together, I followed him to his 7th hour class. All the while he kept telling me to go home—none too quietly.

    “Oh, no. I took the afternoon to be with you, Juan,” I replied.

    He ducked into a bathroom. I waited in the hallway for him. Leaned against the wall, said hi to kids and teachers. Shook the principal’s hand.

    It took Juan about 15 minutes to speak to me in his 7th hour period. He realized that I wasn’t going to go away.

    No, I’m his mom. He’s my son. His name change didn’t change that a bit.