Put Off thy Shoes from Thy Feet

Sunday 11/27, Masaya, Nicaragua.

A friend Val had been emailing, Virgilio Davila, invited Val and I to come to his home and meet his family.

He introduced his wife and daughters and shared his experience becoming a member barely before the war started.  Congregations were not allowed to meet, only in homes.  Families reinforced each other, faith was strengthened.  No matter how humble or ample the home, there was enough to offer refreshment. I tried to do my part to drank the soda for Val.   Virgilio’s daughter’s husband travels 30 minutes south (back and forth each Sunday and weekdays for meetings) to serve as Branch President in the Diriomo branch.

Their little boy "wants to be a missionary NOW!"

We learned more about Diriomo soon, after connecting with Maria Ligia, 

an attorney, single mom, baptized just over a year ago.  No one in her family would come to her baptism.  But she walked into the chapel, and found her daughter Angelina waiting to surprise her.  Another surprise happened, when months later, Angelina saw a video about temples and felt she needed to learn more.  More recently Angelina, in her fourth year in architecture school, announced to her mother, that she needed a break--now happening in the form of a full time mission in Argentina.  Mom and daughter came together for the first time to Tegucigalpa in preparation, another miracle. 

Everyone who asked Val about his mission dropped their jaw, eyes widened:  “Pionero!!”  (No one is living that belonged to the church when Val was there!)

Returning to our motel after church and visits, we noticed a hubbub in the driveway.  Throngs of people flocked in a circle around some boys and girls dressed up to perform a typical Nicaraguan courting dance. Accompanied by guitar and marimba, they charmed Val, who told me he had been praying for a cultural experience...it came to our door! (click here to see the children dancing, or see them still, below: )

Also, I got the marimba playing (click here to see.)

The next day was market day--and "hunt for Val's 40 year old apartment" day.  A nice start...

Dad usually goes for typico, with peanut butter, of course--and occasionally a little cheese!

The markets were artesian and other, 

                                             and we had good company with whom to share hats!

The artesian market burned but was rebuilt, and as you see, strangler trees and others are found here, too.

We did not ever locate the real apartment for the 1972 missionaries.

Here are some possibilities (just to get flavor and color.  But missionary laundry was probably more black and white than anything else--not the right colors here! And Val claims that 40 years ago, all the houses were white or unpainted.)


                                         We finally just blew it out and decided to call it quits

and move on to other ventures.

Typically, the central park is bordered by a cathedral (see above.)

We have not yet ridden a horse and buggy or bicycle taxi, but buses here are our bread and butter.
Our friend Jose, brought us to Cayotepe, a hillside fortress overlooking Masaya and Granada

where we saluted the Boy Scouts (this picture is for Uncle James) 

and then Volcano Masaya

                    

after which we tried the market again, where Val and I each did our "thing."

While I looked to find Christmas, Val taught some young boys math, using lemons and oranges.
This has to be my favorite ear to ear smile!

Later that day, our friend, Maria and her son, Elgim met us to bring us to their home in Diriomo.  Our first stop on the way was a mountaintop—Catarina, at dusk, with more culture—guitarists serenading us surrounded by the lights of the shore.

Maria: “You must be tired. “  Val: “ Not so much.”

"I promised a family I would join them for home evening.  Would you like to come?" 

"Yes."
Noelia Dominguez led a discussion, a song, a prayer, a lesson.
We met six of the dozen children: Noelia (15) Betania (14) Marta (12), Belen (9), Dadello (8), and Tobias (4).  Mother (Aiden) was receiving radiation in Managua.  Father (Manuel) carpenter, 

watched over the youngest, while the older children attended school. The oldest of the 12 children had joined the church, and the rest had followed suit, one by one.  Three had served or were serving missions.  And Aiden, early spring, was baptized, just prior to learning that she has been diagnosed with cancer. Maria Ligia, also the seminary teacher, felt a need to prepare the children for the fact that they might need to carry on alone.  She asked them each to share their feelings about death.  “It is not the end.  It is better there than it is here.  I know my mother will be all right.  We will be all right,” chins were lifted, heads held high.  Later, we saw the children, lights in their eyes, at the rented chapel,
       
ready to meet neighbors and new friends with missionaries and a young couple from Mapleton, Utah, who had heard  Elder Stanley Ellis’s April 2013 conference suggestion--rather than looking for “the best” place to raise a family, to find a place they could make a difference.  Phillip Whiting and his wife and their small children packed up and moved to Diriomo, Nicaragua. They did not know Spanish. 

The next day, after a walk to an overlook of Lake Nicaragua (also called Lake Cocibolca or Granada depending on the day) 

 (the puppies are in honor of Kaleb and Spencer, the goats for Thomas and Amelia.  The mototaxi got us home--yay Grandpa, for saving gas!)

                                   (the flowers are for Auntie April, the rabbit is in honor of Zoey and Eleanor.)

                                                               and a drive to Granada

where we were tagged by children giving us bamboo-woven flowers, and others wanting to have a picture taken, and, by the way--would you please give me your flower?

                                         

                            We rode via boat past many of  the 100's of islands in Lake Nicaragua

        The monkey is for William (or Riley--you can do rock, paper scissors for who wants him most.)

   We stopped to encourage a young future missionary having challenges putting his affairs in order.  A pleasant conversation, maybe a feel of what MLS or “membership and leadership support” missions are! 

and finally paused again atop Catarina, to watch the sky darken and feel blessed in the rhythm of days.

On the way home, Sister Ligia invited us to attend a setting apart for Ruth Noemi Tardencilla , the young woman I had met in the temple, who returned four times in one day to learn everything--heading out the next morning for her mission to Guatemala.

We attended.  Wonderful feelings—her father had been in a leadership position but had become less active in the church.  When their stake president arrived and joined the circle of cane chairs—offering their best to the guests—he asked Ruth’s father if he had given Ruth a (father’s) blessing.  Ruth’s father had not.  He agreed to do this, and a sweet spirit flowed forth.  After this and the setting apart, plates and plates and plates were filled with vegetables, yucca, and salad.  Brother Ruiz remembered that Val did not drink soda, so he went to the pulperia nearby and bought Val a tepid and me a cold water--on a taxi-driver’s budget.
Since then, we learned that all the Tardencillas brought Ruth to the Managua airport with the stake president in a minibus, and the whole family has since been involved at church, possibly due to a sensitive stake president caring about a father's place.

When I told Brother Ruiz later about our situation in Diriomo having no hot water, and in the night, no water at all; he explained that water for his Masaya neighborhood comes in the night three times a week.  They capture it in bottles.   That night, I was in Eden’s garden as I slept.  Awakening, I thought about Moses and a burning bush.  See Acts 7:33 “Then said the Lord to him, Put off thy shoes from thy feet: for the place where thou standest is holy ground.”  Mentally, we have been learning to remove the shoes from off our feet--not thinking so much of Central American mud…but of dirt and tile and even carpeted floors where we have encountered valuable friends filling their place, lifting where they stand, one by one.



Sister Carola Barrantes Lee offered delicious bread, warm, soft, and whole wheat.

Brother Ruiz drove us to Managua,  where we found a minivan and rode to Leon. 

 I met Ivan Solis, a singer, who was worried that his job was making music.  "Is music a sin?"  He asked me.  I showed him the 13^th Article of Faith, and encouraged him, that if his music was virtuous, lovely, and of good report he should be fine. J  He rode with us in a taxi to make sure we got to a reasonably priced hostel—appreciated.  However, the hostel thing is a little more for the younger generation who don’t mind louder sounds.  We found a brand new hotel with at a reasonable rate, 

spent another day chasing chapels, 

Doors were open for a missionary meeting.  Posted here are the missionaries, from Leon stake, with six more for the second stake.

We decided this would be a great location for church--right next to the market.

                            Val says cobblestones are rough on bikes, but this one is functioning.

We toured some museums, 

 (this was the home of Ruben Dario, Nicaraguan poet)

(another tour incited some gratitude for a land free of tanks)

Murals around the central park spoke of burying weapons for education and light.

We had dinner near the town square, 

where campanas rangs loudly and a band played on something that looked like a colander and a cheese grater combined. Cheers for choosing cool things to make noise--William and I will wield our own egg beaters next New Years!

Hard to say what caused the disturbance, but Val and I were both relatively under the weather all the way home (on an international Ticabus--legitimate tickets this time.)  The border crossing customs was transacted from bus seats.  No vitamin sales people and a bathroom in the rear.  Not a great bathroom—every time it opened, the nearby passengers covered their faces with a towel. I could not make the latch for the door function and found myself trapped, wondering what it would feel

Our vet friend

like to have claustrophobia.  Enough pounding helped the people with the towels have compassion.  My mother tells me it is worse on Russian trains.  Their facilities consisted of a simple hole in the floor (don’t look down!)  No matter there was not water or soap.  I have learned to bring Kleenex.
We did meet a veterinarian, who laughed at Grandma Starkey’s joke of threatening to bring Grandpa to a vet, because he would not talk to the doctor.  You know you might be getting better with Spanish when new friends laugh at your jokes.  We are now trying for old friends with a mother tongue! 

Only a month left to capture—turkey and trappings, preparing for holidays, elections, excursions, recitals, and real live markets.  The penning is getting to be a full time job (and I need to keep my day job.)  So, just for the record, tonight, we helped ten children, 12 and under, remove their shoes in the gradas (stairs) where we “look out the window, and what do we see?” with “head, shoulders, knees, and toes,” and “all made of hinges, cause everything bends” (and bubbles, which bring magic out in children, helping a few forget their tears.)

“Put off thy shoes from thy feet: for the place where thou standest is holy ground” may serve as theme for anywhere we walk, trying to stand in holy places.  May your walk be showered in goodness, your “lodo” (mud) remove easily; may you be the instigator of a neighbor’s smile.  May you know and feel that, for us, you are like the windows of the bus—letting in light, beauty and vision.  May your vistas bring insight and appreciation for creation, both in the earth and in your fellow beings!  We sincerely love you and are very grateful that Heavenly Father put you in our path. 

Laurene and Val

This is Val "reading" when we finally made it home!

"Got sleep?"