The bread lady, the dollar store glasses and why I know that humor needs not share a language . . .

Still talking about the fantastic trip, folks, but The Wednesday Pop will return!  I want to tell these Nicaragua stories while they are filing past in my brain.  I want to do justice to the awesomeness I witnessed.  Thanks for hanging in with me.

What do the bread lady and dollar store glasses and humor have in common?  What's a bread lady?  All good questions, my friends.  Here goes . . .

In Padre Ramos, the lovely village on the northwest Pacific coast of Nicaragua where we were staying, people would amble by from time to time.  Sometimes it would be precious children carrying buckets to gather water who would travel back by toting their heavy buckets back home.  Sometimes it would be folks coming by to say, "Hello" or dropping by to see what was going on at the Youth Ranch.  Sometimes it was Andre, the sweet elderly man with the delightful smiling eyes, peddling his bananas and huge mangos.  And, sometimes it was Maria, who we called the bread lady.

I didn't think much about Maria upon her first few visits, other than noticing her strength and determination and wondering where she fell between 85 and 100 years old.  I saw her loaded down with her home-baked breads, hoping that we would buy some and lighten her load.  I didn't know where she lived or who she spent her days with or what made her heart happy and sad.  I didn't think much about her.  I considered her an interesting part of the local color and left it at that.  She was picturesque, ambling along with her tired old feet in worn out flip-flops, but I didn't work much to get to know her.

But that all changed with the dollar store glasses.  (Dollar Store glasses don't usually change things, do they?)  You see, we were having a blast creating a photo booth for the kids at the 'rancho.'  I had brought along all sorts of funny glasses and such and we had used a polka-dotted sheet on a turned up table for our backdrop.  They didn't take long to warm up to the idea that I would photograph them as long as they could last, coming up one at a time with a crazy face and a few props.  It was a blast!  It was a moment when you realize that your idea worked and the giggles and wide eyes of the kids was like a balm to this sometimes-crazy world.  I was in heaven.  The kids were laughing out loud, and I was already dreaming of creating little pieces of this day for them to keep in their homes forever.  It was a good time.  My camera holding hand was close to falling off and my squinting eye was tired of the view finder, but I was happy.  It had worked.

Finally, the kids began to slow down, and it was clear that the photobooth was about to close.  Maria, the bread lady, had wandered up and was busy talking with a few of the ladies.  I was readying to head out for a refreshing dip in the ocean.  We were almost finished.  I felt full.  But I had no idea I was about to fill up even more.

I finally grabbed a seat in one of the cheap plastic chairs to relish in the glory of a fun time, when I heard the crowd laughing hysterically.  I looked towards the cheer in time to see the bread lady smiling sneakily in the largest, most gaudy pair of the dollar store glasses!  I loved it!  We all loved it!  She really loved it!  She had beat even the giddy delight of the little children and brought us all to our knees with laughter and joy.  She had transcended her hard, hard life and thrown us all up into a place where laughter carries away everything else.

Everyone was talking and laughing, and the excitement in our little part of that beautiful country was happy, to be sure!  Maria, the bread lady, was all achatter, though I have no idea what she was saying.  I ran over to begin snapping photos of her and we laughed and laughed and laughed.  I believe she tried on every pair of cheap, crazy glasses we had.  We hugged and slapped each other's shoulders and smiled and smiled.  I was telling her how funny she was and how incredibly beautiful she was and what a strong, strong woman she was.  I don't know what she was telling me, but I know I felt love.  We touched and hugged and laughed and laughed together.  Our laughter together transcended reality.  It moved past struggles and what we don't know about each other.  It rose above the monotony of her days and made my day sweeter than I could have imagined.

Shared laughter does that, huh?  We can't laugh all of the time, because everything isn't funny.  But when we can laugh - and laugh together - isn't it beautiful?  Doesn't it remind us of how alike we all are, when the world tries to tell us otherwise?  I believe so, and I'll take this moment with me always as a reminder that laughter is ours to revel in together.  I am thankful beyond words for the moment I turned my head to see that sweet Maria's eyes light up with a twinkle that said, "I am funny, no matter what language you speak!"  I will never forget it.

I spend my days working to make images tell the story of moments.  We can't ever do it exactly, but it's worth trying.  I hope when you see these photos you will work to hear the hearty laughter, the quiet giggles, the excitement and the moment when folks let go of worry and reality and just had fun - together.  Thanks be to God, and may we always remember the power of laughing with each other - those we know well and those we are yet to love.

List 40 - A few of the things I want to tell you about Nicaragua . . .

So, friends, hopefully you have noticed that I haven’t had a post in a while.  I’ve been on another ‘trip of a lifetime’ (to Padre Ramos, Nicaragua) and returned earlier this week.  Before I left, I assumed that I would be racing back to put words to the experience; that hasn’t been the case.  Life is always a surprise, huh?

I’ve been remembering all that I saw last week, to be sure; and the faces of those sweet and gentle people have played like a movie in my head.  I just have not yet known what to do with all that I saw and experienced.  As one friend put it, I’m letting things marinate.  

I saw beautiful things and sad things and lived remarkable moments.  I shot hundreds of photos, though I fear they won’t capture what I witnessed.  So . . .  I guess I just need a bit of time to figure out what to do with the experience.  Just like editing photos, I am requiring some time and space to put things into the right light and figure out just how to tell the stories.  What do I leave in?  What do I leave out?  So, I'm thinking. 

I know some things that I want to tell you, for sure, so I believe they will be this Friday’s list.  Here are a few of the things I want to share with you about my trip to Nicaragua (in coming posts) - a bit of a ‘sneak peek’!

I want to tell you about:

1. Working with friends who have little, serving friends who have nothing.
2. Hammocks and ‘Nica’ time.
3. The colors.
4. The challenges and gifts of not carrying along my ‘real’ camera.
5. Learning that humor needs no language.
6. What I learned about trust from those who don’t ‘hold on.’
7. Why I’ve spent a good portion of this week ‘unsubscribing’ from all that I can.
8. Zip-lining and Hannah Montana helmets.
9. The magic of seeing a country from the back of a Toyota truck.
10. The ‘Bread Lady’ and the funny dollar store glasses.
11. How children who live in a dump reaching for an orange have better manners than American children in a fast food restaurant fighting over french fries.
12. That even toddlers can have a servant’s heart.
13. The benefits of being somewhere where the stars have no lights to compete with for stage time.
14. The things that make our world seem so small.
15. Folks who think nothing of a farm animal walking through their conversation.

Thanks for your patience, folks.  I look forward to sharing with you.  I thank you for your prayers, support and questions.  I loved being a traveler again and I can’t wait to tell you about it!

Dear Covington,

Dear Covington,

I've never written a thank you note to a town before.  This is my first.  This note goes to you, C-ton, and the amazing folks that inhabit you.  I feel sure I can't do an adequate job showing my gratitude, but I'd like to try.

When I arrived here with my family of three, I had no idea of all that you'd teach me.  I didn't know then what a lot of learning I had to do. You were gentle with me, and I was able to take it slow over our twelve and a half years together.  I came to you with a three month old child, pretty confident that I knew a lot.  I leave you with a seventh grader, a sixth grader and a third grader, totally sure that I have a lot to learn.  Thank goodness you were patient with me.  Thank goodness you were patient with my whole family.

I must confess that you didn't sound all that great when I first heard about you.  Now I know that I don't know anything about a place until I have lived there; until I have met the people that make a place tick. I couldn't have known then what a mark you would make on my life, what you would teach me or the ways you would teach me to maneuver through life.  

Back in 2000, as Tim and I ate pimento cheese sandwiches at People's Drug Store, I had no idea how many memories I was about to make.  I couldn't have known about the times my kids and I would dance on the square, listening to awesome music.  I wouldn't have imagined I would roller blade a few years later in the Christmas parade or that my children would make a memory on each yard of that square.  I didn't know that I would be in and out of your beautiful houses, knowing and learning from your great citizens about everything from childrearing to gardening and that many, many times I would visit in those same homes and laugh and laugh and laugh.  

I didn't know when we first visited here in the great snow storm of early 2000 that we would have two more children here and that the people of this sleepy little town would be our extended family.  I couldn't have known then that your citizens would be with me when I was happy or when I was scared, when we were celebrating or when we were grieving.  I had no idea how much I would love you and how you and yours would return that love.  I didn't know that my children would roam your streets with a jubilant confidence that comes with being somewhere where folks love you and appreciate you and watch out for you.  I didn't know then the feeling I would have later when my friends loved my children as if they were their own, or how proud I would be to be surrounded by the friends of my children, as they ran in and out of our house.

You seemed to be such a small place.  I had no idea that I would meet people that seemed just like me and people who were organic farmers and people who made great music and people who had traveled the world.  I didn't know that inside those stately homes and those elegant facades were the folks who would soon feel like family.  I didn't know that you would hurt with us and help us and urge us on when we needed it.  I had no idea then how very much my family would love all of yours.  

I did not know that you would afford my children the adventures you would: that they would perform on stage and sing in school and learn more about the arts on the Oxford campus.  I didn't know that those friendly looking souls we saw strolling along your streets would soon feel like our grandparents, our cousins, our brothers and sisters.  You couldn't have told me then that we would love folks so much that my children would call them "Aunt" and "Uncle" or that our family would be as comfortable in everyone else's churches as we are in ours.  I did not know how amazing it would be to worship with loved ones all over town.

 
It seems funny now, but I had no idea how many laughs we would share with your people.  I didn't imagine that we would laugh at all of the crazy things we would do together - the Bunco, the Girl Scout cookies, the impromptu gatherings at Scoops, the long talks in the driveways or the book club meetings.    I wouldn't have imagined then all of the ways that your people would become my family.  I didn't know then that I could actually love the children of my friends as much as I do or that I would ever drop my children off at school with the peace of mind that comes with knowing how very much they are loved.

I didn't have any idea how friendships between people of all ages would be forged between my family and your people.  I didn't know that I would soon walk around your square and not be able to go more than ten feet without bumping into someone I truly loved.  

Sometimes we would get sick in your town.  Or sometimes we would be sad.  I wouldn't understand right at first that we would be supported in such loving ways or that your people would hold their breath with us, pray for us and carry us through.  I had heard of the "it takes a village" bit, but I had no idea of what that really meant.  Now I do.  I'll never forget.

We didn't know when we first came to you that we would build a church with your people or build a school with them or work with them to create things we thought impossible.  I would never have believed that I would change careers while I was with you or that your people would encourage me so so much.  

I guess I wasn't sure when we arrived in this special place that I could be appreciated for who I really am or that Tim, my children and I would feel so loved.  I wasn't sure how comfortable it would all feel, how often we would smile or all of the times that we would laugh until our stomach hurt!

Everything wasn't perfect here.  That's just it.  We've been really living the day to day, right along with your people.  We've struggled together, outlasted the mundane together, gotten up early together and stayed up late together.  It has been fun.  In your town, the people are 'in it' together.  

I guess no one really knows, when they arrive in a town, what awaits them.  But you have taught me that I shouldn't ever let my mind jump to any conclusions.  I know now that it's the people that make the place and I know now that sometimes people are full of surprises.  Some of them are good storytellers, some can whittle magic out of wood, some sing like angels, some listen with sweet and patient ears and some are nurses whenever you need help.  You have them all in Covington, and your characters have etched a spot in my heart that won't ever be erased.  

You've been gentle with us.

You've listened to us.

You've taught us.

We have hung out with your people.

We have laughed alongside your people.

We have dreamed with your people.

We have wondered about what we might become with your people.  

Just before we came to your town, a friend told me something I never forgot.  She said that Covington would always be different in my heart because it would be the place my children started their lives.  

Our children did start their lives here, and I am eternally grateful.  Wherever they go, they will be forever different because of the strength of their beginning.  They will always carry pieces of your special town, and I pray they never lose the feelings they learned here of being loved and appreciated.  It will carry them far.

You aren't able to avail your citizens every activity in the world or chances to choose between hundreds of restaurants, but you offer them something even more special.  Your folks can wander the streets, supported by every human they pass; the children in your spaces have the unique feeling of 'owning' the town.  Neighbors are neighbors and the events of each citizen's life are appreciated.  

I didn't know much about being a Mama or wife when I arrived in your midst.  I might not know much more now; but all that I know about my life in these roles, I learned with you.  Your children painted in my garage, destroyed my house, dug 'pools' in my backyard and sent me off on quiet times with Tim.  In this place I've learned to cook, learned how to get away without cooking, what I need, what I don't need, and who to call when any situation arises.  I don't take that lightly.  

On your streets, I've driven mini-vans that should have been retired, I've walked with sleeping babies, I've 'gotten into shape' and I've taken casual strolls.  

And, man o man, have we laughed!  I've learned to laugh at myself in your town, and I hope my children take away the same skill.  

Covington has been, and always will be, my village.  

I'm sorry for the folks who don't ever live in a place like you.  I'm quite sure they don't know what they are missing.  They don't know about the people who make the place, the village mentality, the laughs or the strength that comes from the unconditional love of real friends.  We didn't all start here, but we were here together during a special time.  I'm grateful that we came.  

Wherever we are, you will be with us.  You have shaped us.  You have held us up.  You've taught us and you've changed us.  You have loved us.  

Thank you, Covington, for your people and your lessons and your quiet streets.  Thank you for twelve and half years of living and loving.  

With much love and a heart full of thanks,

Deana

This I believe . . .

I have a Valentine's gift for you!

If you are already familiar with This I Believe then this can just be a reminder; if you don't know about it, you're in for a treat!

This I Believe started in the 1940's and was started again a few years ago.  Fans of NPR (I might be their biggest fan) have probably heard the podcasts.  If you haven't or if you haven't explored the website in a while, I hope you'll accept this gift and spend some time exploring.  The idea of the This I Believe project is for regular folks to consider and write about what they believe.

That may sound like a relatively easy task, but read on.  The challenge is to think of ONE THING you believe and then to write about it in a condensed essay.  It's a challenge, for sure; I've tried it!  What has come from this challenge is an unbelievable treasure trove of feelings, personalities, lives, stories and humanity.  There is something for everyone!

Visit the site on this Valentine's Day, 2012, and poke around a bit.  You might want to listen to current essays or read essays on a favorite topic.  You may enjoy the older ones or want to spend some time with the essays of famous people.  Wherever you go within this awesome space, I believe you'll find a gift.  The essays are done by folks, like you and like me, who sat for a while to become intentional about what it is that matters most to them.

The words are beautiful and sad and strange and loving and everything in between.  We are all represented in the stories.  Each time I take the time to listen or read an essay chosen for the project, my mind is set into motion.  What do I believe?  I ask myself that and I daydream and I wonder and I consider and it's always a treat.

Enjoy listening to this essay about love being stronger than death on this special day and then begin to think about your own beliefs . . .

I BELIEVE THAT LOVE IS STRONGER THAN DEATH

Enjoy the work of our fellow human beings.  Check out the site.  The link is below.  Happy Valentine's Day, my friends.

http://thisibelieve.org/

List 6 - THE Dinner Party List

Tim and I like to imagine this, from time to time.  We try to come up with the ultimate dinner party list.  It's fun, fun because the rules of this game are quite loose.  It's a good exercise - try it!  Here are the rules . . . think about folks from the past, famous people who aren't with us anymore that you'd like to invite to your dinner party.  Think about folks you wish you'd known, folks that would be fun, interesting, good at conversations, etc.  Use your imagination.  You get to invite anyone you'd like!  Who do you wish you had known?  Who would be a good conversationalist, make others laugh, keep folks thinking?

Consider five women and five men.  Here's the good part . . . you can keep amending the list, changing it whenever someone new pops into your head.  Good rule, huh?  And remember, you want the party to be fun!  You want the conversation to be lively sometimes and take a few poignant, serious turns.  You want your guests to feed off of each other and engage their dinner companions with good questions and prompts.  You don't necessarily have to agree with all of your guests - choose ones that will keep the party hopping!

Give it a think and enjoy your virtual dinner party.

Here is my list for this very moment.  It may have changed by the time you read this post.  I'm like that, constantly tweaking the party!

Women

1. Erma Bombeck
2. Rosa Parks
3. Ann Richards
4. My Mom
5. Maude

Men

1. Johnny Carson
2. Ben Franklin
3. Mark Twain
4. Evel Knievel
5. Louis Armstrong

You're definitely invited to my party - please invite me to yours!