Ascend in Pursuit to the Loftiest Skies

Ascend in Pursuit to the Loftiest Skies                                                                   9 June 2013

Last Sunday, in the middle of one of our Skype calls to five of eight children (and a fifth grader who turned 11 last month, just "chilling”!) our temple President, Roberto Ocampo called the “home” phone (a challenge “a veces”—at times—a discierna—to discern—which ring is ringing and “la manera”—the way to open up the ring!)  President Ocampo invited us to lunch, almuerza, for noon on Monday, which we accepted.  Monday is our preparation day, a delightful, usually jam-packed 15 hours, filled with grocery procurement, laundry, cleaning, and whatever else can be reasonably fit before Family night, where temple missionaries gather about 6 p.m.

Our “missionary family” consists of three NorteAmericano missionary couples, a couple who help manage the casa de huespas (guest house, 

where missionaries and presidency reside in apartments which I have shared pictures of, on the east half, while visiting families and participantes or patrons coming from near and far stay in on the west half.)  

On the main level, where Val and I and the Bassetts, our Lovell, Wyoming missionary friends and the Cruzes, or the hosts to this building stay there is a reception area, 

 lounge and an enclosed windowed spacious eating room with many tables, sinks, and stoves for families and wards to congregate.  

Upstairs among the bunk bed rooms, is located another lounge for participantes and a third comfortable gathering area for the missionaries.

In our outing with Ocampos, we became better acquainted with our president, Roberto and his wife, Argentina.  

President Ocampo stands several inches taller than Val—maybe 6 foot 5 or 6 inches.  Sister Ocampo, is possibly 5 foot 2.  They are from San Pedro Sula, a city some four hours north of here, where they met at a single adult activity, and both have both been members much of their lives.  President Ocampo directed the Seminaries and Institutes in Honduras, which is how he met his counselor Don Cazier (brother to Val’s sister Sherryl’s husband Bob Cazier) directing Church Education Systems for Central America.  Sister Ocampo taught early morning seminary for years, which, here begins at 5 a.m.  At least two of their four sons have studied engineering.  Two daughters live in the United States and one daughter lives a few blocks away—Gina is tall and beautiful, with young children.  She studied viola at BYU until developing tendonitis, and helps in the temple.  

After our visit with Ocampos, a temple engineer unlocked the Monday temple (open Tuesday-Saturday) to let me practice.  The organ stands grand and glorious.  Presently, buttons allow programmed hymns to sound, but sitting atop a coveted bench, working manuals with pedals, music plays only from the top keys.  The pedals afford no sound whatsoever.  This can be a good thing to cover any feet-driven mistakes, however it is the pedal music that offers a rich foundation for the rest. 

My memory reaches for July 4, 2012, a Bear Lake Valley moment, to grasp a patriotic passage of “O Beautiful, for Spacious Skies.”  I woke up today thinking of the music that caused me to vow an everyday journal experience.  Maria and I had practiced months preparing a piano/organ rendition that we performed for our ward, and auditioned with a Paris, Idaho, neighbor to use in the Valley-wide program presented each year.  The music had been found, polished, and our kind neighbor listened, wondering how she would use us. The choir was set to sing that very number (repetition.)  

But, yes, a participant had prepared a four minute slide show that would need accompaniment.  The piano/organ duet would fit well, if condensed to four minutes.  Could we do it?  Of course, yes.  For years, Gee Grandparents had helped with tours in the Paris tabernacle, when I was in college, and later.  My father and mother had spent a good chunk of Dad’s retirement building out the porch of our Paris pioneer Stucki home to create a “great room” for family near and far  to gather.  

Daddy’s health was making walking difficult and no one knew how much more time we would have left.  The morning of the program arrived, and there was Dad, holding a seat under the balcony of this auditorium constructed by ship-builders, like the Salt Lake Tabernacle, to magnify acoustics, with each pine bench painstakingly painted to resemble oak:  

  “Oh, beautiful for spacious skies--for amber waves of grain!”  Pedals blended with manual pipes belting a celebratory hallelujah.  Dad glowed.  His family letter echoed strains from authors and columnists, Richard and Linda Eyre, who attended the commemorative event. 

Some efforts to practice, work, love and sing make their mark.  I believe it happened here.  And the message even carried its way into the heart of the organist, months later helping to lead a gathering surrounded with murals in a Tegucigalpa temple, peopled primarily with patrons praying in Espanol.  

The same person who struggled to master perplexing pedal pipes, pondered to understand what to petition, to understand and welcome these eager, interested faces packed into overfilled padded chairs.  Ideas came, as they do, on some temple days—prayers for brothers and sisters to be blessed with contented growing children, reaching their potential…to have harmony in the home… to find answers to their need.  And the good has been crowned with brotherhood, from sea to shining sea!  

Val worked at the front desk yesterday and met a woman from a few hours north, who traveled with her ward on a temple excursion.  She had not participated enough in her ward to qualify for a recommend; however, something told her that she should come anyway.  She wanted to touch the temple walls.  She wanted to feel the peace of this beautiful building and seek for answers to some of her problems.  Having lived in the United States for a few years, she spoke with Val in English.  After maybe thirty minutes of talking with him, she told him that he was an angel, that she felt the love of the Savior through his kind words. 

The above 3 & below, are "Mormon Channel" facebook pix taken prior to dedication, this is just past front desk.

Val shared another experience from Friday at the front desk.  An active child, maybe four years old, was bored, playing in the waiting area.  After finding some paper and entertaining the little girl with a tiny paper airplane, Val watched our temple matron enter, sit beside this little one, take her tiny hands in hers and speak to her, as she likely explained the temple, what it is about, how it helps us love our family, and why we might feel good inside when we go there.  Val was touched as he watched this woman with the responsibility of welcoming and escorting individually the numberless patrons arriving for the first time, taking moments to minister one by one in such a calming way to this unsettled child.

Last week, a friend asked, “What do you do in the temple, anyway?”  I have ventured to try every job I can.  Why not eye the youth to help them find small, medium, large and extra large "ovorales" (white jumpsuit used for baptisms) and the extra periphery of socks and underclothing? 

The lavenderia or laundry area, filled with sempiterno (eternal) montanas (mountains) of clothing in various stages of wet (mojado--dripping, humido--damp,) dry (secado) and soiled(sucio) to clean (limpia) offers a marvillosa (wonderful) place to try out new words.  

Hermanas love to have their names memorized, and they laugh when someone twirls in curtsey, my name is (me llama,) “Estar Aqui!”  (To Be Here—Here I am!) When one of the sisters smashed a bug, she was a surprised to hear someone question if she needed to arrepentirse (change her ways) for matar (murder) in the laundry!  The most recent humor happened when one of the brethren showed up, then disappeared during one of the assignments.  I am not sure if traducer (translated) means the same in Spanish, but it was timely to suggest that he might have been taken up into heaven.  Everyone liked that (well, maybe not his wife!)  I still await time helping in the guardaria (nursery—I am learning to coo in Espanol.)

But my biggest challenge occurs in large reunions (meetings) 

where words come in the artillery firestorm of unintelligible prattle.  It has been difficult to decipher needful messages, but gradually, some of the words are starting to take shape.  On the way to an assignment, fighting tears, I spoke to my director, stopped on the stairs.  She got to hear of a favorite book of our nieto (grandson) William: La pequena locomotora que si pudo (The Little Engine That Could):  “Pienso que pude, pienso que pude, pienso que pude!”  If only I can be that little engine! 

On one such day last week, (the day I would have found worms in the back yard, if there were any, to eat) our director pulled me aside to put her arms around me and tell me, “Te Quiero, Mucho!” (I really love you.)  Her husband, tall, and quiet, watches his wife wrap her kindness around the sisters, one by one by one, the jewels that she can find, closer to the ground. 

Go search in the depths where it glittering lies,
Or ascend in pursuit to the loftiest skies:

‘Tis an aim for the noblest desire. 

(Oh, Say, What is Truth, Hymns of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, no. 272)

En abismos buscadla, en todo rincón, o subid a los cielos buscando ese don: es la mira más noble que hay.  (Himnos de La Iglesia de Jesucristo de los Santos de los ultimas Dias, p. 177)

From the grade school jump rope chant: “High, Low, Medium, Wavy; Walky, Talky, Slowly, Pepper!”  Val and I are trying to work the “walky, talky, slowly” part before the pepper comes full speed.  Thinking of you, wishing for your skies to be spacious, and crowned with comradery, with courage--"I think I can, I think I can."

Love to you, Laurene &; Val