This piece of land is where my fourth great-grandfather lived in Nauvoo Il.  I sat this day in 2003 reading his journal that talked about his desires for his posterity.  His very own journals. This is why I have been inspired to write journal after journal. This blog is calling to me...

Lima, Peru

New husband, family, another country, faith walking...


First meeting

Thanksgiving

Uncle Leoncio's birthday

Cousins

Cousins on Raquel's side

    

 

Faith stepping

I will walk with boldness out into the world - I will get on a plane and go across the world to visit the unknown.  I will put myself out there for the powers of heaven to manifest.  

"and I was led by the spirit not knowing before hand the things I should do"

The buzz of expectancy in every meeting.  To find the future around any corner.  Walk out that front door with a flexible agenda...and watch.   It unfolds in ways you never could imagine.  

"and he went out, not knowing whither he went".  

Offering your desires, giving up your finite ideas to watch connections and links forming into a masterpiece.  Following a bread crumb trail scavenger hunt, a willing mystery.  The excitement of trust.  

"they set forth into the sea, commending themselves unto The Lord their God".  

Take that first step - towards joy.  

"and it came to pass that The Lord God caused..."

The Mountain

Pray through each step.  The storm rages around you. It touches you with stinging force. The waters gathering and rush the trail, covering sure footing. Dark angry clouds flash and boom right here- while you are out in the open.  Uncovered, unprotected from the seemingly unpredictable sparking search for an outlet.  Cold invades your limbs, fingers become numb and painful to the constant opening and closing of fists to ward off hypothermia. 

The storm doesn't stop with our pleadings. The hail continues to humble. Bushes are ill-equipped to shelter.  All we can do is run from it.  The whole mountain to descend.  The rod, a constant prayer out loud:  "please help us, please help us. Help our bodies, help our knees, help our feet, please help us, please help us. Thank you, thank you, thank you for helping us.  Desperate humbling.

Blessed with sturdy feet on the river trail.  A moving target for electricity trying to find the tallest. Strength to run for 3 hours and more miles.  Protection for weak knees to hold out. Mountain held in place from sliding. Extra unseen protection in clothes purposely worn for protecting. He didn't take away the storm, even with our faithful, fervent pleadings. He strengthened us and used our reliance to take each step.

His earth, his children, his power, our experience.  Opportunity to turn to him. How to be grateful?  Whimsy thanks soon to fade with distraction. Life moves forward off the mountain.  Bodies remove the reminders as they miraculously repair and heal. Tender feelings shrink and callous over the urgency of humble dependence. 

We went up to the mountain and found him. 

Stories

Tita Moretti's recollections

We came here to Calco from Milan when the American's were bombing and destroying the houses; there were fires in the town.  I was 6 years old, I remember the fires and how we went undergrown when we heard the alarms at night.  Our whole family came here during those years, aunts, uncles, cousins.

During the war, it was hard to get food, everything was going to soldiers. We made our own butter from our cow, there was pork, we had fruit trees, and a garden.  Difficult to find was butter and milk.  

Then arrived the Americans in 1945 the tanks the 27 of April arrived in the town.  They were handing out  chocolate and caramel candy. Everyone was happy, a liberation from Fascism. I remember they handed out cans of beans that were good.  

Before they arrived, we had many problems for the partisans because the Germans were here.  Mussolini was the king of Italy, the former king left Rome.  The Italian army was without order; some went with Mussolini, some with the partisans to reach freedom from regime of Mussolini.   There was fighting  from partisans and the republic, fighting from the English against the Germans.  The English landed in Sicily and moved north.  They pushed the Germans out.  It was a period of travail.  

I was 9 years old. I remember the aircraft with the guns shooting. We were going to school by bike, and we had to dive in the snow, because the planes were arriving and shooting at the station and at German cars.  But you didn't know where they were shooting so you had to get down. I was the oldest of the group of kids, I was afraid, but interested in the aircraft flying.  In the snow, I looked up at the planes.

Once a bomb fell about 100 meters from us, we heard it in Calco at 8:30 in the morning, we were going to school. I was out looking at the plane, it fell in a field and there was a lot of smoke and noise.  I went back in and everyone was under the table, all the glass was broken, and a lamp fell on my dad’s head when he was shaving.  

Summer 2013

I caught the vision of abundance during my last stay in Italy; why do I have to have "once in a lifetime" experiences only?  I am coming back next summer I pronounced to the world. Why limit myself? 

So I went back. (I am writing this entry a year later).  I pushed the limits even further by going on a side trip all by myself. 

I went to Lake Guarda, the largest lake in Italy.  I stayed 3 days. 

I saw castles, Roman ruins...

I pondered life in an olive grove

 I borrowed a bike and rode around the lake, stopping to swim, eat, take pictures, enjoy

 

On the way back I stopped in Brescia and found a castle!

 

 and gorgeous streets like this one. Of course...I am in Italy!

 

 

 

The Italian wantabe returns to the blog.  Sitting poolside to Tuscany, I see a landscape of fields and hilltop cities.

Not sure if I like this app for Blogger, I can't resize my photos.  Test run#1.