Memories of a life in Guatemala

 1.  Physical Experience

The darkness was damp and thick.  It wrapped itself around me, blindfolding my eyes.  My hands blindly slid along the ragged grooves in the red brick wall, and then along nothing, until they caught hold of cold metal.  The hair on my neck and arms stood on end from the cold night air, bringing with it the smell of pine, which filled my mind as the cool breeze slithered across my face.  Through the darkness, thin lines from our old antennae stair-stepped into existence as my eyes adjusted.  It hummed with the wind high above the mossy wooden shingles on our roof.

 2.  Scenes

Green.  It went on endlessly.  A seemingly never-ending expanse of trees extended as far as the eye could see in either direction, until it crashed with the graying sky on one side, and a rich and heavenly collage on the other.  Orange had been painted across the horizon, with lines and shadows as if a real paintbrush had left it there.  Rays of gold and red nestled into the paint intermittently.  The angles of light allowed tree-covered mounds to rise up out of the forest floor in sporadic patterns, like green waves frozen in time.  Black shadows of different sizes occasionally soared across the scene, dancing in the last rays of daylight. 

 3.  Speech

“Bug? … Bug, are you alright?” I gasped for breath as a cold burst of air rushing in the open door slammed into my body, waking me up.  The doorknob is still in my hand.  My eyes search the floor trying to make sense of the situation.  “Bug?”, whispered my mother from stairs, “what are you doing?”  Her voice was filled with curious worry.  I remember the surprise in her voice as she stood with her hand on the stairway banister, cautiously looking in my direction.  “It’s the middle of the night.”  Her laughter turned from nervous to teasing as she too drew in the situation. 

 4.  Emotion in the Moment

I have to clench my fists in order to control myself.  “You’re an idiot.  You shouldn’t even be here,” he repeated.  Never before have I experienced anything like it.  It feels like a hot cloud is pinching my shoulders, and then dropping to the pit of my stomach, before surging upward again in a wave through my body.  In my head, the wave tumbled around, making my jaw muscles contract. 

‘Hold it in.  It’s not worth it.’ 

“Are you stupid?” 

‘Okay, that’s it!’

 5.  People of Consequence

I remember sitting there, taking in the scenery, and chuckling, next to my brother.  His scraggly beard was evidence that he had not seen a mirror in months.  His hiking boots were covered in mud, with twigs and leaves plastered to the bottoms.  He clapped his hands together like a seal when he laughed, before leaning his mountain-man-like head on his wrist, his wide shoulders still shaking with laughter.  He seemed so different physically from the clean-cut man I had grown up with, but he was the same in every other sense: always wanting to compliment others; humble; laughed at everyone’s jokes; kind eyes.

A Celestial Lawn

1. Physical Experience

-the heavy smell of chlorine; cheers, screams crashing against the walls, resounding and echoing in the space accompanied by the churning of water

-harsh sound of my sweatshirt ripping on the metal fence we climbed to get from the church to the playground

-light streaming through windows that spanned the wall, ladybugs gathering, basking on the window frames

-a tall, glass display cabinet filled with perfume bottles all of different colors, shapes but each delicate and unique, sparkling in the morning light filtering in through the blinds

- sharp crash as the glass bottle shattered against the bathroom floor, the soft pink of the razor-sharp shards as the potent flowery smell saturated the air

-the smell of lazy days spent in the bright sun

-music pouring soft and mellow from pool side speakers

-sinking into a dark blue coach, body molding into the soft leather

-staccato pops of heating corn

-I run my hands through the thick, vividly green grass of my grandparents yard--if there is grass in the celestial kingdom, it will look something like this.

-burrowing my toes into the cool, soft dirt of their flower garden

2. Scenes

-I tried to save a seat for someone by sitting in the only unoccupied row—right in front of the sacrament table. The deacons kindly explained why I could not sit there, and I sat instead with my friend in the hard, metal chairs in the back of the room. She talk my how to braid my hair.

- My brother and I sitting on wooden stools up to the countertop of my grandma’s kitchen as she made dinner. We tried to count how many apple decorations she had in her kitchen—making it to about fifty before we lost count.

-My parents and grandparents sitting in folding chairs in the front yard. The mountains surround us and the light slowly seeps away as I cartwheel again and again across the yard. Out of breath, I collapse on the grass—cool and fresh in the air of the summer evening.

3. Speech

-“Your eyes had to have been open during the prayer too to see that her eyes were open.”

-The sinking realization that she asked that question and been answered twice before. I gave the same response with less detail and animation than before.

-‘You dang cat. Those aren’t your Cheetos”

-Laying in bed for a long time thinking about the songs and lines in the play Les Miserables that I had seen for the first time that night before I could fall asleep

-The good-natured smack talk between my uncle, brother and dad as they played basketball together.

-“You know, this is probably the last time we’ll ever come here.”

4. Emotion in the Moment

-The feeling of emptiness as I walked around the house with my cousin. I noted the absence of apples on the kitchen wall or the emptiness of the front room. We walked onto the beautiful lawn and I wondered with sadness if the new owners would keep it that perfect. I felt as though a big part of my childhood had suddenly and painfully come to a close. A door slammed without warning.

-I drifted serenely on my back in the water. The sun beamed down pleasantly on me, complimented by the cool of the water. After the frigid cold of Minnesota winters, being outside in the warmth was bliss.

5. People of Consequence

-I had a Sunday school teacher when I six named Sister Elliot. She pretty much adopted me as her granddaughter and would do all sort of fun things with me, and sometimes, my siblings. I have great memories of her and her house. Although we moved when I was nine, she still keeps in touch with me to.

-My Grandma Thurgood loved to cook. She was always making rolls or some sort of treat for us or for a neighbor or ward member. She was a small woman with short, wispy, white hair and a sweet temperament.

African Sadness

1). As the scorching hot African sun pierced the clear blue sky, the stale smell of the cemetery permeated throughout the surroundings. Way sweaty because we were in suits.  Drank a Coca Cola before walking into the cemetery. Slight breeze, but not much at all to distract from the Sun. The sounds of crying and wailing could be heard from all ends of the cemetery.

2) Walking down the pathway numerous graves are protruding from the ground, differing in size and shape. Symbols of the wealth and class of the past. Giant Mausoleums, nice tombstones, hastily built tombstone, mounds of dirt in the ground. A mass of people all dressed in black surrounding the grave site. Being the only white people in the group. Standing off to the side, almost on top of someone’s grave because we were late getting there. Many flowers there and thrown into burial site. Singing of spirituals and loud crying.

3) The mother screaming and crying the child’s name and the word no over and over and over again. The catholic priest giving his short little sermon about death, how dust we came and now as dust we must return. The African spirituals that they sang. They sang about returning home to our Father, about love, peace and hope. Others who also were crying repeating the words no, no, no over and over again.

4) It was the first time I had ever experienced a funeral like this. Standing and watching as so many people suffering from anguish and sadness twisted my soul. I wanted to comfort them, I wanted to take away the anguish they were feeling. I felt depressed and sad myself, being influenced by the people around me. I could feel that despair that death brings to ones life, having never had to experience that before in my life. And then I remembered my Savior, and why we are here. I began feeling lighter and a burning within me that seemed to push the despair I was just feeling out of my surroundings. I began feeling hope once more, the happiness, and understanding. Joy filled within me that I wished it would overflow and spill over to the other participants of the funeral.

5) My investigator/The Father: Big Teddy Bear of a man, Calm and collected. Held his composure, just looked on as the funeral continued. When we said hi to him he let a few moments of emotion and crying.

The Mother: Big, Solid African Woman, Hysterical, couldn’t keep herself together. Screaming, crying, wailing.

The Mourners: Took the lead from the Mother, crying, wailing, singing. Lots of emotion were showed by multiple people. Their emotion could easily be felt.

My Mother's Hands

1.  Physical Experience
My mother has beautiful hands.
Baby-Bottom soft but not smooth= kind of wrinkly
same shape and size as mine
you can see all the tendons in her hands, like planted rows in a farm with blue veins watering between them.
Smell of simple green and a vigorous brushing sound as mom scrubs the tile


2. Scenes
I remember when my mom's wedding ring didn't fit anymore.  She couldn't get it off.  Her ting was gold like mine, with a diamond in the center.  Again like mine.  My dad lubed her finger up with butter and tried pulling, but when it wouldn't budge and her knuckle started swelling, giving her the "muffin top" look, he stopped.  Then he had a bright idea.  Floss.  Somehow he wrapped her finger really tight with floss and I remember panicking as my mom's finger turned red, then purple, then it was violently trying to pump blood, I could see the veins throbbing with motion.  She can't loose such a beautiful finger!  Not my mother's precious hands!  Finally it came off.

She has a new ring now.  This one isn't gold and has 3 diamonds instead of one.  She loves it and raises her last two fingers in a wave-like motion just so the light will capture the cuts of the diamond.  She is modest and this is the first time I have ever seen her show off anything.

3.  Speech
"I hate my hands.  They are so old and so ugly"  she said.  I protested in great horror.  "They are so beautiful!  Each wrinkle and spot have a story, an act of service."  I can't convince her to love her hands as much as I do.

Her running commentary as she plays marbles with her grandkids,  Or sculpts playdoh.  Or teaches them how to swim.  Or running around playing capture the flag- a game I taught them and implemented.  She is such a good sport for doing that.  Oh the laughter as her and my almost 70-year old aunt chased each other.  They were running at the exact same pace, my aunt in front as my mother chased her trying to reach out and tag her while strapping down her chest.... those pesky things always get in the way.  My dad couldn't contain himself. And preferred to be a bystander just so he could laugh.  My mom's hands to everything.

4. Emotion in the Moment
My hands and my mothers hands are the exact same shape and size.  Mine are just a younger version.  I love it.  I want my hands to do what my mother's hands have done.  I reverence her hands.  She is always serving, always doing something for someone else.  Her hands never rest.  The only difference between her hands and mine are the nails.  She has delicate, long, perfectly-curved nails.  I have never seen them any other way.  Mine are purposefully and stubbornly short. Never even and never filed.  I hack them off with nail clippers as soon as there is any white.  I play the violin with my hands and there is nothing worse or more annoying or ugly to me as long nails.  Except my mothers.  Only her nails can be long.  Only her long nails are pretty. I hope she keeps hers long.

5.  People of Consequence
 Everyone my mother serves is someone of consequence, at least to her.  Her first grandchild is a tribute to her- a miniature version of my mother in every way except for personality.  Bryten has spunk and sass where my mother is unfailingly sweet.  But Bryten's face is an exact replica of my mother.  It seems only fitting that the first grandchild would be so.  Bryten is even as flexible as my mother was- she could do the splits until I was born.  At age 33.    My dad has a mini-me grandchild as well.  Little Nash- who is the same as my dad in EVERY way.  Even his humor, his run, his grin. I think my mother secretly has an extra soft spot in her heart for him. She hold's Nash's hands in the same way she hold's my dad's hands.  A little extra tenderly.

The fig tree that saved my life

Physical Experience

-Enjoying a sunny day

-summer afternoon

-Smell of wet earth

-Playing as a child in an imaginary jungle

-The smell of the tree 

-The strength of the tree trunk that saved me

-The ability/strength in my hands that allowed me to hold the tree 

-My own desperate voice when I was calling my grandmother to help me 

-I was afraid of falling off the cliff, which was next to our neighbor house

-Warm embrace of my grandmother that rescued me from a very dangerous situation

-My hands were sweaty and my heart was beating really fast because I was frighten 

-My hair had tangled in the branches of the tree because of the movements I had to do to hold myself

-The succulent smell of hot vegetable soup that was been cooked by my grandmother for dinner

Scenes

-The beautiful big garden of my grandmother full of beautiful trees and flowers that for a child it seemed as a big jungle in which I used to play as a five year old

-The vibrant green color in my surroundings

-My grandmother cooking dinner

-I used to know my grandmother's garden very well 

-I used to come everyday to my grandmother's house where I used to play with my cousins

-I experienced the greatest memories of my childhood when my grandmother shared with me her set of tea party

Speech

-My grandmother's tone is very calm and loving she always has a good message to share and the empathy for people to engage with her audience which was usually her grandchildren

-joy of holding my grandmother who rescued me from falling off the tree

-I called my grandmother desperately to come help me: Mimi, Mimi, come help me!

-My grandmother came to rescue me: honey, take my hand, I got you! (Holding me on her arms)

-My grandmother: you have to be careful, it's very dangerous that you climb the tree, please don't do that again

Emotion in the Moment

-fear

-love

-excitement

- anxiety 

My grandmother was very worried because of me falling down the tree

Her face looked very anxious

I was very excited playing in the jungle that I enjoyed every single moment of the time I spend in the garden. 

After my incident with the fig tree, I never climb the tree anymore  because of the frighten experience I had previously

People of Consequence

My Grandmother 

Me

My Grandfather

My Parents

My Cousins

That pivotal morning

1. Physical experience

• i leaned in with force as i shut the remaining inches of my red suitcase

• i stood back, awing at the production of fitting the next 18 months of my life into two red suitcases. 

• my feet were numb against the rough carpet

• i stared at my reflection in the mirror--it was the last moment in that I would be Emily, before I became known as Hermana Lewis

1. Scenes

• the bustling airport with citizen shoulder to shoulder with luggage

• the kitchen, with its sparkling white counter tops, and red bench on the wall

• the quiet ride to the airport in the dawn of the morning, my breath fogging the window pane 

• the on stares of passengers and citizens as my mother and i embraced not holding back the tears

1. Speech

• the security guards straight unchanging voice 

• the tears that ran down my mothers face spoke louder than her words

• less words were said and more hugs were given as an undeniable lump sat at the top of my throat

• i quietly and quickely wishpered "i love you," before i took my place in the long security line. 

1. Emotion in the moment

• my heart was pounding louder than my voice. 

• how many hugs could i give my parents before i'd have to say that final goodbye

• how many times could i look back and see that waving hand of my fathers

• it was too late to turn back, did i really know what i was doing?

1. People of consequence

• my parents

• my MTC companion

• the lady i sat next to on the plane--who lived in SLC

• Becca, holding her white piece of paper with my name written across it. 

The Rusty, Muddy Fence

My time at 1343 N. 200 E. serves for great memories as a child. I lived in that house for 12+ years of my life. My childhood was there. My family’s childhood was there (my parents had been there for 33+ years). Still to this day, when I dream of “home” its not my new, wonderful house where six of my life years were spent—but it’s cute little 1343 North. This is where I dream so often—this is my home.

Physical Experience:

• ·      I remember eating cold cereal in the swinging, sticky, brown barstool that we all fought over
• ·      I slid the envelope that housed a check for my mom along the edge of the red linoleum counter and backsplash, only to have it fall between the crack and get stuck against the wall. The cool counter is where I rested my head as I shrank back in agony of what I had just done. (And I remembered years later after finding the check during the remodel…that I had been the agent in its placement)
• ·      The hot summer days when my mom would give us permission to fry the grass. We would roll out the long slip in slide made of vinyl that we got from the bindery. It would stretch down our perfect (and back then, enormous) hill. The sun on the vinyl made for the most pleasant summertime smell. We would bring two hoses to the top of the slide and run the cool water down the vinyl. We would slide down the smooth surface hoping no one would have a pool of water to sling into our faces. Molly—the Nelson’s dog would run along the back fence enjoying getting cooled off…and unfortunately muddy. The smell was summer, the feel was summer, the taste was summer (popsicles and freshly picked apricots). Summer as a child at 1343…
• ·      Comparing my tan arms with Mary’s tan arms…

Scenes

The aerial view of our hill and the back fence.
*This photo does not do this "heaven on earth" justice. 

• ·      I was always jealous of Mary who had an August birthday—she always got to have a slip-in-slide birthday party. My birthday was in February—and we always had to stay inside.
• ·      Mary would invite friends over—mostly my friends too. Alicia and Krista Keddington, Katelyn Eyre, and a few more. The slip-in-slide was the best. Our hill was the biggest in the ward—and our backyard was just full of grass. It was perfect.
• ·      We would unroll the sturdy vinyl that we got from the bindery. It was very durable. We only had two our whole lives. The first one was a rusty orange color. The second, a mix between an olive green and teal. Normally the edges of the vinyl roll were covered in cobwebs, dust and hair from our cat Fluffy who lived in the garage. Taking it out for the first time since winter, we would hose it off and get ready to roll.
• ·      The water would need to run for awhile. The vinyl needed to be coated or else you couldn’t slide, and would get burned.
• ·      If you got going too fast (which we did most of the time) we would run into the back fence. Sometimes we would have to put camping pads along the back fence to soften our stop.
• ·      We would ski down, go head first, feet first, pancake style (group), spider (group) and all sorts of things.

Speech

• ·      Cheers for those who could ski down most of the slide
• ·      Begging those at the bottom to not hold up the two corners and create a pool of water—if they did this, when you slid down they would fling it and soak you.
• ·      “Mom, can we do the slip in slide?”
• ·      “Mom we’re not done yet, can we keep going?”
• ·      “Mom, can we have piña coladas?”
• ·      “Mary do you want to do the spider?”
• ·      “Isaac—put down the hose! Don’t spray us!”
• ·      “Mom, Isaac won’t stop spraying us.”
• ·      Constant barking from Molly as she was getting wet—and because Fluffy (our cat) came to watch us slide and just the sight of her in the back yard would drive Molly nuts

Emotion in the moment

• ·      Excitement
• ·      Pure joy
• ·      Laughing
• ·      Sun shining—and everything was right in the world
• ·      Being pestered by Isaac and fighting with him—telling him to stop doing whatever he was doing (My dad told him it was his job as a little brother to tease and annoy me—and he was very diligent in following out what my dad told him…)
• ·      Arguing with Mary after being in the hot sun for a while. We shared best friends—and as she was the older one—she often won out with favoritism.
• ·      Not caring what I looked like in a swimming suit—or with wet hair

o   No make up to get ruined—just the sweet innocence of childhood

People of Consequence

• ·      Mary: Silky straight hair that was a light brown, caramel color (compared to now, her dark hair with dirty blonde accents that is ALWAYS curled tightly)

o   Free, happy, life of the party

o   Facilitator/Boss of the show

o   Tanner than tan in the summer

o   We would laugh and play together—work as a team

o   Sometimes I was the annoying little sister to her

• ·      Krista: Dark brown hair that wasn’t straight, and wasn’t curly…it was just…what it was—and often frizzy

o   Freckles covered her face

o   She was the peacemaker (peacemaker72!)

o   She was my best friend, but tried to be Mary’s too

o   Alicia’s (Mary’s best friend) sister

o   Lived two houses away

o   Constant companion in the summer

-Lizzy S.