Mother Nature in Medina
Mother Nature’s soul shone through a pregnant woman’s eyes.
Her piercing pupils cast an aquamarine and lime green light where they shone. Where she looked, she saw life. Where she touched, she summoned love.
Ana works for the Medina Children’s Home. The Arms of Hope extend to anyone in need. It’s Ana’s job to make sure their life has quality. She turns pieces of broken families into an intricate tapestry of sustainable netting for troubled youths to fall into. She is the health and wellness coordinator. She means business.
“I’m gonna take you on a tour of the campus,” Ana says to me as she motions to the door. I am here for a meeting to talk about their yoga program. We did the talking, now it’s time for the walking. And driving. She grabs the keys to an old clunker off the side table, and we leave her office for the next 30 minutes to time travel.
The musty machine around us twists between Medina’s dewy hills. She tightens her grip on the steering wheel and takes matters into her own hands.
“Do you see these houses?” she points. “These are the older ones that some of our residents still live in, but we are currently doing renovations.”
I slide from the right side of my seat into the car door as the clunker takes a sharp left.
“Now these. These ones. Do you see? These houses have recently been remodeled. We’re working on offering quality living space. It’s important for the people moving in to feel like they have more than just four walls and a roof. It’s a part of our House to Home project. We’re taking the old houses and giving them new windows, fresh coats of paint, and basic upgrades inside over the next two years.”
We continued through the quiet campus and discussed the nature of Arms of Hope’s mission.
Healing
The people she introduced me to all had something in common. They were healing. They were on campus to heal whatever wounds they could with the tools provided to them. And Ana has a secret weapon to combat the stresses of the resident’s life: Yoga.
Four sinks, knee height, in an abandoned building, look like a bizarre dream I had last Thursday. We pass the strangely familiar sinks and enter a uniquely inviting room for such an empty corridor. Maybe it is the Christmas lights Ana has strung over one of the hallway windows.
This vision of grace and compassion makes me believe that people do exist out there for the betterment of others.
Ana currently holds yoga classes Wednesday mornings at 8am in the vacant daycare building. When the time is right, she will transform the space into a modern hangout for the ladies to come do yoga in. Right now, the bare bones structure is part of the charm.
We get back in the car and head to the main office. I ask when I can see her again to talk more about ways I can help build their program up. She says I am welcome to guest teach their Wednesday morning class next week. A new Wednesday appointment is what I’ve been praying for. Is this some kind of miracle?
Outside the office door, a plant with colorful leaves sprouting in every direction grabs my attention.
I ask her what kind of plant it is.
“I don’t know,” Ana replies.