The Mission of Massage

"Too often we under estimate the power of a touch, a smile, a kind word, a listening ear, an honest compliment, or the smallest act of caring, all of which have the potential to turn a life around."

- Leo Buscaglia

 

In my life before I moved to Costa Rica, massages meant welcoming a client into my peaceful studio... walls a warm chocolate brown, candles lit, peaceful music and incense burning. Massages meant bringing someone to a state of relaxation that their bodies and minds desperately needed. Massages meant monitoring breathing to see that my client was relaxed, and offering up silent prayers for what life was currently throwing their way. Massages meant listening... to either snores, sobs or stories.

 

Massage last month in Nicaragua held no peacefully painted studios, no candles or incense, and certainly no calming music. A concrete slab floor beneath me, and corrugated tin roof above me. Chickens to my right, children dancing to wild music to my left.

 

And yet, half a world away from NH, the need was the same. People longing for safe touch, a brief respite from life, and relaxation.

 

There were the people that I can't forget, because they were so excited and so thankful. The adorable little old lady who came, still wet from bathing, dressed in her very best dress, replete with frilly apron, and doused in perfume. Because getting the first massage of her life was An Event. One that required the very best her wardrobe had to offer.

 

And there are the people that I can't forget, because my heart still hurts whenever I think of them. The woman whose reply to where she'd like me to focus the massage, was her shoulder because her husband hit her with a baseball bat... ten years ago, and it still hurts every single day. The same woman started crying on my table, gentle touch helping her release the mourning of losing a son who was hit by a car several months ago.

 

Many of my clients in NH were prenatal, and they became my absolute favorite massages to give. I love seeing mom rest peacefully for the first time in months. I love feeling baby move, first an excited "someone is playing with me" and then an "ahhhh" as they relax and accept the loving touch. And I miss that. I miss it so much.

 

So I prayed hard that day in Nicaragua... "Jesus, please bring me a pregnant belly. Just one. I miss it so." And in walked this beautiful woman, radiant, with a very swollen belly. Seven months along, knowing it was a little girl. And willing to have this stranger give her the first massage she'd ever gotten.

 

She started the massage with her hands gripping the side of the table, but by the time we were done, there was a peaceful smile on her face, and her hands hung limply off the sides.

 

Karli, a PT major who had recently taken some classes on massage, was working with me. I had her ask mom if it was ok to use her amazing body as a teaching moment. Mom graciously said that was fine, so I was allowed to share this sacred moment with Karli. To see her eyes go wide with wonder as she first felt the baby move, and then saw the ripples of movement on mom's belly, reminded me of the joy of working on my first pre-natal client. The joy I still feel with each new person.

 

It was loud. It was dirty. There were ants, flies, fleas and lice. But it was a day full of holy moments.

 

A day where I had to wipe away tears, because I truly felt like the luckiest girl alive. Being Jesus-with-skin-on. Bringing touch to people who were in desperate need.