Aspen's Birthday and Honduran Baptism

Last Monday was Aspen’s baptism on her birthday. That was a great day for her and for all of us. Today was Central American Stake Conference, broadcast by satellite. It was Elders L. Whitney Clayton, Boyd K. Packer, and Don R. Clark (70), and Ann M. Dibb. They didn’t have translation headphones, so we listened in Spanish. Because Bros. Clayton and Clark both are Americans and native English speakers, but gave their talks in Spanish, they were pretty easy to understand for Ranae…and Stuart, too. The Primary choir was super great, as was the beginning Stake Choir. The conference was like eating a meal after a long time of eating very little. We met at the Uyuca Stake Center, a very pleasant, 3-story, pretty building. We hadn’t been in an official, actual Church building since mid-December, since the branch meets in a very old, converted clinica across the street from the billiard hall in a teeny town. One thing that struck Ranae and Stuart (after she pointed it out) was that the pictures in the halls had very vibrant colors—the golds, blues and purples stood out quite differently than in pictures we had seen in US church buildings. They were the best looking recreations of the life of Christ we had seen.

MangoWatch 2012! Mangos are the size of baseballs.

Aspen: I got baptized this week on Monday.
We had a Spanish party at school and we ate Honduran food.

Henry: We went to Tegucigalpa and got new clothes. I got some nice shoes (Puma) and a belt. In Tegucigalpa, my Dad bought donuts (“donas”) and orange juice for lunch. We left for Teguc at 9:22 and we came back at 4:19. I hung up my hammock in a shady, not rainy, spot in the yard. I get in it every day. Monday is Honduran Father’s Day.

Jack: I got new Sunday shoes, a nice belt that fits, and new dress pants. Mr. Andrew brought a dead dog skeleton to school. We smashed open the skull to see if the brains were there. They were not. Me and Dad watched about 2/3 of the movie Tintin. I drank some Grap Gatorade. That wasn’t a typo. The package really said “Grap” as the flavor. It turned out it was really grape Gatorade. I got a bus to honk at me today because the driver knows me, from last Saturday when we went to Tegucigalpa. I am probably one of the only two gringos in the Yeguare valley [where we live, about 30 km from Tegucigalpa] to have ridden that bus. It is called “Viejas Express” (It’s really called “Viajes Express” but I like calling it “Viejas Express” since that means “old woman express”).

Abraham: We made St. Patrick ’s Day stuff. I walked to the Puesto de ventas [the little store on campus that sells University and other products] for a field trip. Our field trip was about grocery stores. My teacher brought some money and I got a juice box and I had a little bag of little gummy teeth candies, and I had a tomate (that is how you say it [tomato] in espanol).

Ranae: On Monday morning, the day of Aspen’s baptism, we discovered that the baptismal clothes at the church were only adult-sized, and Aspen would drown in the abundance of fabric if she wore them. Thinking quickly, I remembered the white sheet on Jack’s bed and the sewing machine we are borrowing from Namiq—just the items we needed to whip out a skirt for Aspen’s baptism. Miriam and I worked together to sew, taking turns through the day with sewing as we saw to the other needs of the day—Miriam cleaning and cooking, I making cake for Aspen’s class and banana cream pie for our family’s birthday celebration. The final stitches went into the skirt just minutes before we had to leave for the church, and it turned out very cute. Pairing the skirt with a frilly white t-shirt, Aspen had a splendid white outfit for her baptism.

But the day was not mine; it was all Aspen’s. The guests she had invited came, including Miriam and her daughter, Fanny. Aspen graciously accepted the kind gifts many people brought. Once she changed into her white clothes, she looked and felt something special. She glowed. Sergia Maria brushed through her after-school-day hair and slid in a pearly headband. Her white clothes, her astoundingly blue eyes, her cascading hair, her easy and calm manner—she was beautiful.

She descended into the font, which, though recently cleaned, had caught a load of black ashes from a local field of burning sugar cane when we removed its cover. The water was brisk by all accounts. Stuart said the prayer in Spanish and performed the baptism.
Aspen came out of the water invigorated and happy. In her words, she said, “I want to get baptized again!” All the details of the day and the program—the talks, prayers, songs, guests, the uniquely bilingual nature of the event—all were ancillary to that moment for that girl and her decision to commit to live a life following Jesus Christ. Our prayers were answered that Aspen would have a memorable and happy baptism. She received the gift of the Holy Ghost through the laying on of hands, and the ordinance was complete. Satisfaction and joy filled my heart.


Aspen invited Miriam and Fanny to join us for her birthday dinner, which they did. Stuart and I made it clear to Miriam that she was not on the job—we had not invited her to come cook or clean up for us. She was happy to relax and visit with the children while Stuart and I prepared the birthday feast (homemade chicken nuggets and French-fries). We enjoyed dinner, pie, a piñata (Henry broke the broomstick twice as he took his turn to whack), and Aspen’s last present of the day, which were her own set of scriptures in a Honduran purse. She was thoughtful and happy to receive her own scriptures. Stuart, Aspen, and Jack took Miriam and Fanny home, and we all were in bed a bit past time. It was the birthday that would never end, but I guess it finally did, having been filled to overflowing with all the sweet contentment a little girl’s eighth birthday should bring. I am so happy to be Aspen’s mom!


Stuart: I am working as a Visiting Professor at the Paul C. Standley Herbarium. That means I do projects with the herbarium and other things I am interested in doing. One thing I am doing is working as an advisor for two students’ Senior Thesis projects. This week, we had faculty meeting. For those of you that have been in a faculty meeting, they are the same in Spanish as in English—in nearly every way. A difference for me, however, is that I communicate much less clearly in Spanish, with little nuance, compared with my English. As a result, I probably got my students in trouble with my limited ability to communicate and know the University culture here, which is WAY different from most North American universities. The students are a little stressed out about that trouble they found themselves in, but as a result, we are moving forward rapidly on their projects, which is measuring phenology (timing of plant development stages, like flowering, leaf opening, fruiting, etc.).
I am also starting, this week, a project growing mahogany trees for an experiment looking at how changes in soil microbial environment influence seedling growth. I hope it is good enough to eventually publish the results. Mahogany is everywhere here—our doors, moldings, interior trim, built-in closets are all made of mahogany. I think it is on the CITIES list of endangered plants and animals that are treatied to not be traded. The US is a signatory on that list. I am, therefore, afraid that I won’t be able to bring any mahogany items back to the US, but I am going to check on that. I really like wood products and would like to bring back some well-crafted wood products from some local folks.