People, Prayers, and Pass-Along Cards
July 30, 2016
July 30, 2016
Something that has been emphasized over and over to me, no matter where we go: seeing buildings and historic places are impressive and awesome, but the real connections to the culture are in meeting the people!!! Those are the moments that remain in my heart!
Instructions I received when we were being trained in the Church Office Bldg in SLC just prior to leaving on our mission: Mark Glade, Commissioner of LDSFS, looked at me and said, "Your job is to lift others." It is not easy to live the Gospel in the far-out regions of the Church; these members need encouragement and love.
Boy, have I found that to be true! Because of the experiences we had when living 5 1/2 years in Kentucky, we know how much effort it takes to be active in the Church!!
Most members here in Europe usually have great distances to travel just to attend the Sunday Church meetings, let alone any extra activities.
Another theme I keep in mind comes from my Patriarchal Blessing: "Your experiences will open unto you the value of souls."
I have kept these thoughts wherever we have been, members or not. Even if there are no words we can share, I can always look them in the eyes and smile. Some people don't often get acknowledged in that way.
In Frankfurt, we smile and say a German, "Hallo" to greet people in our apartment building elevator but usually don't get much in the way of conversation because of their limited knowledge of English. We always smile and greet the people we pass on the street, hoping they will associate our friendliness with our name tags.
On our trip to Rome this week (Sat July 23 to Thurs July 28) we gave out 6 pass-along cards. The first was to Christian, the Uber taxi driver who came to the airport "meeting place" to find us with a sign: "Mr Ken," and a big smile. He had a wife and a 6 month old baby boy, Mattea. We gave him the card to see how the Church helps to strengthen families.
I have noticed that the hotel maids in Europe are friendly and easy to greet. Those in the USA seem to know they are 2nd class citizens which may be partly because they are treated that way.
With my handicap, I have concluded that I am simply providing people with an opportunity to show their humanity. In public places many people have reached out to offer their help, which I've sometimes accepted even though I don't really need it.
Many people have showed me kindnesses, even just wanting to assist in some way. The man who was out walking his dog on Sunday morning and said, "follow me, "as we were looking for the way to get to the Church for our meetings.
A tall man quickly came to help me hop down the 27 steps in the Church where the meetings were to be held. I asked his name and he said, Marco. Then I remembered that we were attending a CCM (Coordinating Council Meeting: Area 70 with all of the presidents of the Stakes in his Area). So I asked if he was a Stake President and he said yes, President Paulino. Before the meeting, he continued to look after me with sandwiches and bottled water before the meeting began, when the Priesthood Leaders were visiting and eating.
It was a good meeting with five-minute presentations being given about 7 different Church programs, including LDS Family Services by our Helpline Advisor, Sara. Yes, it was all in Italian. I like singing hymns in different languages because I can hear the pronunciations more slowly as I see the written words.
I later realized that we could and should have gotten pass-along cards in Italian from the young Elders we met at Church that day. Hindsight.
Simone (SeeMONae), the very tall, happy driver of the hotel shuttle, who on two occasions, put my arm around his neck and almost lifted me up, in order to better help me hop down the five steps to ground level. It worked much better than holding an elbow on either side.
On Tuesday, July 26, 2016, after visiting the Colosseum we wanted to see the Forum so we worked our way uphill on the largest cobblestones (boulders) we've ever traversed. Because of many weeks of jarring from cobblestones, a screw came loose, giving the front wheels their total independence. The knee scooter was impossible for me to guide and after every boulder Ken would have to stop to straighten out the wheels, so thus we inched our way down the hill again. We were very hot and I was totally exhausted. There was nothing we could possibly do about this situation except pray.
We sat down on a ledge in the shade of a tree to rest and listen to a peppy little Italian band. We saw pure joy as we watched a slender gray-haired man dancing his heart out. He was not very skilled, but he had good rhythm and was in his own private world. Other people were also cooling off in this little oasis, sitting closely together because there wasn't much shade.
Soon a very large, very dark-skinned man joined us. He wore a loose shirt and pants which looked African to me. He carried two bags along with a backpack on his back, so I assumed he was traveling. But it was his feet that told me the story: his bare feet were covered with a lighter-colored dust than his skin color, and he wore thin flip flops. This man had been walking all day. He was tired and yawned as he sat in the shade across from me.
None of us was in any hurry to get out in the hot sun again, so soon he caught my eye, pulled out a beautifully carved item from the plastic bag and came to sit beside me...20 Euro, he said. He spoke French, but we communicated with his few English words and gestures. I learned that his father in Kenya had carved the items, masterful-done in a rich rust-colored wood.
I wanted so much to help him but I wasn't sure I wanted the subject. It was a joyful piece, a young mother, kneeling and holding up her new baby in the air. However, her bare breasts were so prominent that it would not have been well accepted in our culture. I'm sure the African culture sees the beauty in this scene depicting the circle of life...ours keeps it more private. Ken wasn't as attuned to this scene as I'd been and said he didn't want the carving so gave him 5 E to help out.
His motorcycle is pretty impressive, I think.
As we were leaving, my heart was so touched thinking about the great distance he had traveled by foot in the hope of making a little money in this land of many tourists. He would probably sleep on the street. I could see that he was going to have a difficult time selling his wares among so many others. The police were chasing off entrepreneurs in all directions: small dark-skinned men (from India?) selling bottles of frozen water, or selfie sticks, or paintings, or nick-nacks. This experience has remained in my heart.
We found a taxi and asked him to take us to a good Italian restaurant, which he did. It was closed for the afternoon break. Two more restaurants that he liked were also closed. It was 3:30 pm and apparently the dinner hour didn't start until 19:00 (7:00 pm). Then we found a little cafe, Trapizzino's, that had been recommended online which was open, so we went inside. Their specialty was what they called a pinsa, your choice of fillings in a bread pocket. Ken had meatballs in tomato sauce and I had eggplant parmegiano, both delicious!
I suggested that Ken ask the woman in charge if anyone there had tools. I had to urge him because that wasn't a question one usually asks in an eating establishment. The English-speaking woman in charge, turned to the other four in the room and repeated the question in Italian. One young man went out to his car and brought back a pocket-knife set of tools. He had just the size of Allen wrench we needed and had the screw tightened up in a flash! How amazing!
Once again, we know the Lord is close-by!!!!
We went across the street to a park and joined the locals by enjoying the cool breeze in the shade. The park was full: children playing, handicapped people, others strolling with their dogs or visiting with friends on benches. "When in Rome, do as the Romans do," so we did! It was so relaxing and good to be away from the tourist crowds!!!!!!
When 7:00 came, we went across the street to Rema's, the pizzeria which the taxi driver had first recommended, and obviously a popular place with the locals. We had had our late lunch not even two hours before, but oh, well.
It wasn't long until we met Mirmatea Ottavin, a most remarkable 12 year old. as we sat down to order dinner in a popular neighborhood pizzeria. He came to interpret for us because the waiter didn't speak English.
His family had just arrived in Rome that day for their vacation. His mother, from Turkey, only speaks Turkish to him; his father, an Italian, only speaks Italian to him, but they speak English to each other. His father works for Microsoft in Belleview, Washington. Mirmatea speaks American English, and takes Chinese classes in school. A twelve year old who speaks four languages and is interested in nuclear science? (However, those classes are not offered in on his level of school.
He gave us a little information about the Italian culture; during WWII Italy's submarines were not very good, but each one had a very large galley. The two things Italians take very seriously are their food and soccer!
Once our order was placed, he returned to his table but checked on us occasionally to talk and see if we needed anything else.
Since we could see that he is such a precocious boy and might like to so some research before school starts, we gave him a pass-along card to look up his family history.
At the Rome airport, I smiled and waved to an Italian military guard and received a smile and nod in return. Handicapped old women can get away with things like that.
Like in Brussels, we saw military personnel on guard all over town.
On the return trip to Frankfurt, I sat next to a young girl on the airplane. She had the middle seat and was pleased when I suggested that she move next to the window. We talked all the way from Rome to Frankfurt; she was able to speak English better than most Germans. Julia, 25, but (by her own admission) looks much younger, is attending school to learn to be a pharmacist wanting to work in an apotheke. She plays the flute with a group in Church about once a month, so we were pleased to have that in common.
She answered every question I would ask, then she would say, "And you?" Very unspoiled by the world and sweet, I so much wanted to share the Gospel with her. I had prayed before leaving on the trip that I would find someone with whom I could share my small Book of Mormon. As we were on our way home, this was my last chance, but I couldn't find a way to introduce it in the conversation. Finally, I gave her two pass-along-cards: Family History (in English) and The Plan of Happiness (in German), and suggested that she might like to do some research on the internet while she is waiting for school to begin again. She looked at them and said, yes, holding them very carefully as she got up. She said, "I hope I see you again." It was only after she stood up to leave, that I noticed the hump on her misshapen back...what a sweet, pure spirit!
Now I'm wishing I would have pulled it out of my purse and just handed it to her, asking her to read it, which I'm sure she would have agreed to! Hindsight! I, too, hope I see her again.
I always carry pass-along cards with me and usually offer a silent prayer for those to whom we have given them. What an inspired tool they are!!!
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