Where angels are?

The village of Xetonox is where they make the simple, pretty, rustic MayaWorks cornhusk angels. Ten of us were there, on a MayaWorks tour.

It was the middle of the afternoon and we were all moved by both the poverty and the serenity of the home in which we were gathered. Our hearts were were moved by the strong and lovely people of this isolated place. And we were also, well, pooped. It had been a long day. We needed coffee. We needed a break.

Just then we were told that two of the women were going to demonstrate for us how they make cornhusk angels. I plastered my polite and supportive smile onto my face, while inside I wondered if they ever had North Americans just sort of implode on these trips. These people are awesome, but I need to rest my poor brain.

Several women brought in a pile of cornhusk. The women explain they don't make the angels alone, it's a group project. Whenever there's an order, they meet to work.

One of the women made a little ball out of a sheet of newspaper, then expertly wrapped with a single dried husk.

Voila! A head.

Fingers fly. The body, the skirt, the arms. Someone takes a small hank of cornsilk, braids it, hot glues it to the angel head to create brown silk hair.

And it's done.

Like I said, we were all tired. As soon as they started to make the angel, some of the other Mayan women, who were standing off to the side, turned to ask Mirian some questions about business. It's not easy to get an opportunity like this, these women have things to discuss with their area manager. They are speaking to each other in Kakchiquel.

Someone else starts stalking in Spanish, so that conversation flies. Our group realizes that somehow the formal part of the presentation is over, we start chatting a little bit among ourselves. We kid each other, we marvel together at these people and this day. We're relaxing, stretching, you know how it is at the end of a meeting.

The women making the angel intuit that the dynamics of the group has changed. They're no longer the center of attention, so they start chatting with each other, once again, in Kakchiquel. It sounds like they might be enjoying a bit of gossip about us. There are some quiet giggles. Then again, they are young women, they may be talking about young men they know.

So there we all were. Some stunning young women. Some beautifully aged women. Little tots. Leaders cementing relationships with these women that they know. The ten of us travelers from the US smiling and moving about. All talking with animation and contentment in our three languages.

I look at the women working with the cornhusks. Right then, the angel's wings are being attached.

Wherever we come together in the name of peace, justice, and hope - well, that's where the angels are.

Do you hear them?