More than Tamales

I didn’t say it as a plan.
I said it almost like a confession.

“My husband wants me to make tamales,” I admitted, laughing a little. “And I don’t know how to make tamales. Would you teach me?”

Without hesitation, my friend looked at me and said, “Absolutely.”

Just like that.
    No questions.
        No hesitation.
            No figure it out.
                Just generosity.

Then, as if that weren’t enough, she pulled another one of our friends into the fold. 

And that friend, equally generous, said, “You can use my house to make them.”

Then another friend was invited because, “You need an assembly line.”

And suddenly, what felt like an impossible task turned into a gathering.

Together, the four of us made one hundred and twenty tamales. Pork. Chicken. Plant based chorizo. Potato. Cheese. Our hands moved in rhythm, spreading masa, filling, folding, tying, while laughter and conversation filled the room. We talked about life. About love. About struggles and dreams. About the past and who we are still becoming.

At some point, in the middle of all that work, I looked around and thought about how beautiful this friendship is.

And it was true.

Not the kind of beauty you see at first glance, but the kind that comes from within. The kind that shows up when someone hears your worry and turns it into shared effort. The kind that opens their home, their time, and their heart without expecting anything in return.

We didn’t just make tamales that day.
We made memories.
We made space for connection.
We made love tangible.

I am so deeply blessed to have friends like this, friends whose beauty is found in their kindness, their generosity, and their willingness to walk alongside me. Friends who remind me that I never have to do life alone.

And every time my husband enjoys a tamale, I will remember that what made them truly special wasn’t just what was inside the masa, which was a lot of lard, but the love that wrapped around every single one.

Merry Christmas friends,

-srt