To Sing Frogs Chapter 41a

Chapter 41

 

Cantar Ranas

 

  It was Sarah’s fourth birthday in the United States. She thought she had it all figured out. The presents sat tauntingly in the great room as my daughter tried to figure out which of her requests had been granted by shaking boxes and analyzing shapes and weights.

Emily was a sweet girl in the area who spoke Russian. She had been a fixture in our home a year before, helping with translating Russian and English. As time had advanced she moved on with schooling and dating. We saw her less and less. Still, her presence with our family was not unusual and Sarah was happy to have Emily there to share in her festivities.

The anxious now-nine-year-old still had hours to wait before she could open her presents. The phone rang shortly after she got home from school.

I picked up the handset and turned it on speaker when I didn’t understand the Russian words. Sarah looked up curiously. She no longer understood Russian either but she recognized the language as readily as I did. Somebody is asking for Sarah, Emily said. She winked at Amy and me. Sarah’s grin filled her face but she still didn’t recognize the voice.

“Sadah, yá Marina.”

Sarah screamed. They visited for over a half hour before I thanked Natalia for the amazing birthday present she had given to Sarah. Then Marina had one last thing to say. She had worked very hard so she would be able to deliver her most important message directly and without assistance or translation. “I love you, Sadah.”

“I love you too Marina.”

Packages of miniature Polly Pocket dolls with clothing and accessories, a toy parrot that could learn to talk, and a coveted Nintendo DS handheld gaming system were later opened with joy. They were almost reverently neglected the rest of the evening. Sarah blew out all of her candles but her greatest wishes had already been granted.

 

 

 

Mike spent time in several areas within the boundaries of his mission in Southern Spain. Mid-summer of 2009 found him in the Canary Islands.

Our letter from Mike the first week in August was a shock. He was being transferred from the Canary Islands to Jerez de la Frontera.

We immediately sent him the phone number and address for Julia and her family. A week later, Mike called them to make an appointment.

Like most Spaniards, Julia’s family was Catholic. The old woman who answered the phone showed little interest in meeting with missionaries. What was unusual is that she told him to go ahead and visit whenever he wanted to. Mike would find out later that Julia’s grandmother had assumed him to be a friend of hers who was pulling her leg. She had agreed to an appointment with the missionaries as a playback on the joke.

Sunday morning Mike and his companion were greeted at the door by a man of my age with a thick dark Mediterranean mustache. When Mike introduced himself the man threw his arms around my son and began alternating kisses from cheek to cheek. He started shouting and soon his wife Josephina and his daughter, Julia, had left the house and were hugging and kissing my son.

“Mama, I told you it wasn’t a joke!” Josephina shouted back into the house. “I told you Sarah’s brother was in Spain! I told you he would come to see us!”

Within seconds Mike and his companion had been invited into the house. Julia wasted no time in grabbing my son’s hand and dragging him off to her bedroom. She showed him her pictures of Sarah riding a horse along with several others. Then she picked up the large brown stuffed bear.

“Este es el osito que Sarah me dio quando se salio del orfanato.” This is the bear Sarah gave me when she left the orphanage.

Mike visited with the Pozo family almost weekly for the next several months. It didn’t matter how many times he told them he was there for their friendship, not the food. The most luxurious of aged hams, cheeses and fresh breads were consistently provided. Mike was always a most honored guest. When the missionaries continued to refuse wine, the Pozos made sure there was always enough orange Fanta for Julia and the missionaries.

After weeks of food that was far too luxurious and far too expensive, Mike prevailed. José-Manuel and Josephina backed off to service that was too luxurious and too expensive. A cheap meal was never served to the two missionaries and they never went away without being stuffed. Josephina told Mike that he should go home to visit his parents after his mission. Then he should quickly return to settle down in Spain. He could find a nice Spanish girl. There were plenty of them… In fact, she had a niece…

Mike was broken hearted when he wrote home the first week of December. He was being taken away from the couple who called him their son as well as his surrogate sister. They had been the balm that relieved the absence of his own siblings and parents. He told us it was as hard to leave his replacement family as it was for him to leave home almost nineteen months earlier.

The words he wrote to us were mournful. “I have been transferred to Malaga. I have to leave by tomorrow.”

 

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