8-8-13 Mops and Medicine or Temple Dance

8-8-13 Mops and Medicine or Temple Dance

Sunday, on the way out the door, I had an argument with myself.  Sister Ocampo, temple matron had stood at the first of testimony meeting last month to bear her testimony before mobs of children, youth and others ascended to throng the pulpit. When I complemented her later, she suggested it be my turn next month. 

It was next month.  Maybe she wouldn't be there.  I was not as well versed in Spanish as she, or many of the other missionaries.  Missionaries aren't really members of the ward—this is their forum.  As I walked out and closed a heavy door behind me, I left the typed translation of my convictions dormant under the file folder I had located recently. 

“Val, I lost my testimony,” I had announced at dinner one afternoon.  His eyes grew wide.  “But I found it underneath the organ music!”  Good thing.  And there it lay.

Upon arriving 30 minutes early for church (maybe ten minutes--but 30 minutes is Val’s aim—where we regularly plant ourselves between east entry and the chapel doors to pump everyone’s hand and when prompted, give a vibrant Central American enthusiastic side kiss) I was excited to share a reference with the missionaries.  Our taxista had accepted the gift of a beloved book that I had told helped to keep our daughters from quarreling over breakfast, start a day with a spirit of peace, and make good friends and good decisions.  He had filled in the words when I had explained to him an experience from the night before, where I had helped a little family kneel together over an altar in the temple, “to be bound together para siempre—for always.”

 

The Bassetts had saved part of a pew next to them near the front—good for catching stories and rapid Spanish speaking of children and youth who rush to the front.  Somehow between the opening hymn, announcements and a bishopric member’s introductory words, ideas crowded my mind, I jotted down as good of Spanish translation as there was time for, and I raced to the front.  Yes, I could be first, and it would be over.

I explained how I had been invited by Sister Ocampo to do this, but it was hard, and I was a little scared.  I told of the written testimony in a folder at home that had been lost, but according to Sister Ocampo’s message to me that morning, these things need to be in your heart and your mind.  So here is a beginning of my feelings about the Book of Mormon: 

The summer I was turning twelve years old, my father traveled far away.  

When he was not working, he completed the Book of Mormon and wanted his family to do the same.  

This is Dad, around that time and the place we did most of the reading--our fashionable minivan

The Book of Mormon is a large book, difficult for a young person to finish in a summer, but my Mom made it a race.  If we finished the book, she would give us five dollars.  “On your mark, get set, go!”    My brother and I 

How would you like to race me?

liked races and we raced our way through this book.  

I do not remember who won the prize.  But I do remember that a prize was mine.

One night as I sat in the bedroom in my grandfather’s farmhouse writing in my journal, I began to think about the book.  Could it have been created by someone with a third grade education?  I wrote the words I was reflecting with tears streaming down my face.  Something entered my heart that told me that the book was not written by man alone.  There was something in it that if I would listen to, could guide me. 

A man of God helped translate this book.  A man of God is calling mountains of missionaries today. The missionary wave is meant to flood the earth, 

but something is happening to immerse the missionaries in the process—I am one, and I am grateful!

What do I feel about the Book of Mormon years later?  

Well, we work in the temple every day.  But we have to eat.  And we have no car.  So when we leave our house, we bring books with us.  In the ride between the store and the temple guest house, there is usually enough conversation time to hear about our taxista and his or her family and share just a little of the book that we love.  When we share things that are close to us, especially about Heavenly Father and his love for his children, we feel closer to Him and closer to each other.  The Lord lives.  He loves his children and he wants us to love one another. 

We invited Bassetts to dinner—salmon, from the night before!  

(And Monday Val agreed to try out his salmon-hued shirt—what do you think?)  

It took over a week to try it onHe thinks we don't need a night light anymore!

But imagine looking to find a 35 inch sleeve in Tegucigalpa--an amazing find... with no respect to label, stripe or color!

Sunday, Kristen’s birthday brought four way computer calls and a "Being a Mother"s day of 25 years to Laurene. 

Monday morning brought a stark reality of Saturday night’s discovery that upon filling our new pill minders, a whole flock of vitamins with medicine had gone missing.  Though we found the problem Saturday, we rested Sunday and conscientiously chose not to scour the house until Monday.  Monday morning brought fervent pleading, after visiting two pharmacies to learn that acquiring prescriptions without a doctor is not a breeze.  We hunted, to no avail.  Every drawer, every cupboard, every shelf, every stored suitcase was scoured and rearranged.  Nice house, no medicine!  Finally calling our health insurance, I learned that they had exactly enough prescribed and not sent--pretty much the only thing left to do would be order a post office box in Miami, which I set out to do.  On the way to fill out one of the spaces in the application—to request our guest house director’s  help to receive a post’s arrival, I decided to pick up a mop.  That floor has been bugging me for days! 

This is not staged. Val had to get a picture.

Pushing a big borrowed mop, following behind with my towel “skis” to dry up the wet spots, I went from bathroom, to kitchen to front room.  No one uses the front room--only Val with his exercise equipment—we have not had time to entertain guests.  But then again, why not mop it?  

If you look to the right, there is the box escondido--hiding behind the curtain!

I pushed the “trapeador” to the draped window and hit something hard.  Behind the long olive drape, a box stared back at me.  

It originally housed numerous containers that follow us to work each day, but the containers were long gone--stacked in fridge and cupboards.  Something heavy weighed down the box…A big bottle of Vitamin C, Vitamin B12, and underneath it all, the missing medicine! 

Grateful, I later surmised--pondering the drama--that Heavenly Father answers prayers—but it helps when we do our chores! 

Val’s chores recently have included manning the front desk, which can get swamped when buses come from far away and whole groups of new people need special attention.  During one of such days, I got to work with a lady from San Pedro Sula, who got up at 2 a.m. to travel 4 hours one way to work all day in the temple. This time it was with me, in the nursery, which included a fourteen year old young man named Daniel.  Awaiting our call to walk back to the temple, we asked Daniel about his activities in the ward and camping.  They camp and the word sleeping bag translates directly—score!  He says they do it all the time. 

Here is some nearby

camping at La Tigra

Sister Ollos asked Daniel if he liked to dance.  He emphatically told her “No” after which she did her best to campaign for the “pobrecitas” mujeres jovenes (poor young women) who might be waiting to find someone nice to know.

When Sister Valladares, coordinator of sealing, called us to come, the “secret door” was opened and we were invited up.  Daniel stopped to notice the dancing light from the window on the west stairwell.  Upon passing through the door of the second floor, we stood for a few minutes, and Sister Valladares noted an Articles of Faith card in Daniel’s pocket.  



Outside the door to the sealing room, we took turns reciting 13 Articles. His family had not been members for long, but Daniel knew them soundly and wanted to say them.  So did Sister Valladares.  I had raced to learn them with Gloria, my sister in law; however, it has been three months since I have opened my card.   I hoped for numero siete, the gift of tongues.  And it was mine—with a little help.  As our recitation finished and the sealer was still not ready, the empty space and the empty time was more than a 14-year-old could bear.  Daniel began to dance.  His first moves were break dancing.  Sister Valladares asked him if he had participated in the Cultural Celebration for the temple dedication here--he had.  Daniel had participated in the Tierra Bella  (Beautiful Land)  which I searched for online and found a live video--click the above blue link (Beautiful Land) and if you open it, you can hunt with me for Daniel in the Cultural Celebration!  

 

It was priceless to watch this young man wrestling eagerness, awaiting a sealing to his mom and dad, unable contain himself outside a mahogany door with his feet literally bouncing the “Land Beautiful”.  I remembered that in the Nauvoo temple people danced. They also stayed all night at the temple.  

When Daniel knelt beside his parents I saw him look into the mirrors later with his dad.  Together they saw themselves without end.  When I showed my Canada picture to Daniel, where he wants to serve his mission, I heard about the missionaries that taught him. And as he said goodbye, with his parents, I met the missionary from Canada who accompanied them. Is it not interesting the impact that one person can have on another by reaching out, offering time, interest, concern…leading someone else to a good place?

Sister Olla's sons participated in la danza del pajaro, and for Val's contribution this week, he would like share his own "dance of the bird":  a video of a jet coming in to Toncontin airport.  A view of the difficult  landing is here: (To see, click on blue link.)

As you dance, sing, fly, or don a salmon colored shirt and wish you could swim, may your doings echo pioneer pondering, preparing for a 1,000 mile trek in the 1800's.  

May this week’s trek be accompanied with a tune, a cheerful jig, and a nudge to your heart that God delights to bless you!  

Val and Laurene Starkey