Henry Raymond
Fairfax Bloggers => Thoughts & Musings From Pastor Liz => Topic started by: Rev. Elizabeth on December 16, 2015, 11:47:59 AM
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We had, through a mutual acquaintance in La Primavera. made contact with each other on Facebook, though I can only contact her husband, and then, it seems he is only on Facebook once a week. Nonetheless, we exchanged greetings. I shared a photo. He sent a photo of Antonio, their son whom I have sponsored since he was 5. Then one message was an abrupt request for my phone number, nothing else. I sent it to them, thinking nothing of it. After all, she is in Nicaragua, I am here, how could they possibly afford to call me?
For some reason two Monday nights ago, I decided to answer the phone, which I usually ignore. Most often,it is one of those the caller/machines telling me my credit account is good, or did I know that old people are robbed every 20 seconds or similar nonsense. And when the/it/ they caller hear “Reverend...” they/it disconnects. But this time was different. Something said ‘answer the phone.’
Perhaps it was someone for Operation Happiness.
“Griffins,” I said, ”may I help you?”
And then this little, scratchy sweet voice said, “Hola, Dona Elizabeth, es Marta, la madre de Antonio.”
Oh, I said, “Oh, Marta, mi amiga.”
I think most of our conversation revolved around saying how happy each of us was to hear the other’s voice. I sent birthday greetings to Antonio who will be 15. She told me they were having a celebration for him at their church. I tried to ask her for a mailing address, not sure if my Spanish was remotely coherent or if they even had a mailing address.
I told here there was no snow; that it was chilly; that I was happy to hear her voice.
After more joyous burblings and we said buenas noches and hung up. I was jubilant. Fred was happy for my happiness. What a blessing; what a present. I felt filled, loved. I remembered her saying how important it was that I remembered her. Now, she was remembering me!
And then, days later her address appeared in Facebook message. It is a typical Nicaraguan address. Four blocks toward the lake, one block past the culvert, the purple house on the right. I have no idea if anything I send will actually get there. But I will experiment. I will send a little gift and hope that it actually arrives.
Meanwhile, I hear her voice in my mind and heart and I smile.
Merry Christmas to all, and to all a Good Night!
(to read more about Marta, scroll back to my story, "Marta, mi amiga."
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What a lovely recognition for us all of what is a true gift, as are you to our community.