Consider the Poppies of the Field

"Consider the lilies of the field, how they grow;

they toil not, neither do they spin:

And yet I say unto you,

that Solomon in all his glory

was not arrayed like one of these."

Matthew 6: 28-29   

               
Another senior missionary was telling us one day that it is believed that Jesus was really referring to poppies, and that the word lily was simply the word the translator selected. The reason for that belief is because, like Italy, fields of poppies grow in many parts of Israel in the Spring. They would have been a common sight in Galilee, I suppose, where the Savior taught much of his Gospel.

We love the poppies which grow in the middle of roundabouts, down boulevards, poke through pavement like weeds, and just about anywhere you can think of. And as we were driving in and around the hill towns near Rome on Saturday, we were met by the above glorious sight, a giant field of poppies. I gasped when I saw it, and of course we had to stop for a picture. Saturday was a day of accidentally discovering several of the beauties of the Roman countryside.

Our intention was just to drive to the town of Godonia, where we will soon be leading an English language discussion group for people who want to practice English skills. The missionaries here provide, as a free public service, these English groups (similar to a conversation club) because there is a keen interest in learning English in Italy. Knowing English can lead to better jobs and career prospects so these groups are very popular especially because they are free. A member of our Rome ward asked if we would lead a group at the public library in Godonia as he had several people lined up there eager to be part of a group. It is far enough out of Rome that the young missionaries can't do it and we can.

So we drove to Godonia just to see where it was and became so enraptured with the scenery that we turned off the Tom Tom and decided to get lost in the hills. As we got up higher, we were enthralled with the valley below us, and found a little place to pull over and look.

Olive trees and fig trees stretched before us which again reminds me of the scriptures. Olive trees were so often used in parables, metaphors and for teaching. The Book of Mormon uses the imagery of the Olive Tree several times including the allegory of the tame and wild olive tree in Jacob chapter 5.  I remember thinking one day how interesting it is to find a parable about olive trees in there. Olive trees and olives themselves would have been completely foreign to Joseph Smith who was an uneducated boy from the boonies of upper state New York. He probably had no idea what an olive looked like as he was translating those parts. And that parable in Jacob 5 is quite inspired and complex.

These unripened figs here were just there on the side of the road. Hermes says we'll have to go back and grab some when they ripen. 

Figs are also referred to in the scriptures a few times. My favorite section of the Doctrine & Covenants, section 88, has a reference to figs:

Verse 87:

For not many days hence and the earth shall tremble

and reel to and fro as a drunken man;

and the sun shall hide his face, and shall refuse to give light; and the moon shall be bathed in blood;

and the stars shall become exceedingly angry,

and shall cast themselves down

as a fig that falleth from off a fig tree.

Okay, that verse is a bit ominous, but the section in its entirety is so dazzling to me in its depth and understanding of where we come from, our purpose here on earth, and where we're going. For me when questions and doubts arise, reading that section makes those feelings melt away and raises my spirits into a higher place. Now I can also associate it with figs, which when they're eaten at the right time, are juicy and very sweet - kind of like the scriptures can be.

Okay, back to our trip in the country!

We were stopped just after a railway bridge in a place with barely any room for a car to pull over. As usual, there was graffiti painted on the bridge by the side of the road. Graffiti is so prevalent here, but while I think it's often an eyesore, one thing I appreciate is it's very often expressions of love or wisdom, not F-bombs or expletives which is usually what graffiti is at home. In this picture here, you can see an expression of love on the brick wall of the bridge:

As we got in the car and drove a little further, the most stunning scenery unfolded before us. Across a gorge was the town of Tivoli with waterfalls cascading down the hills from the town. We were awestruck.

We had always intended to go to Tivoli because we knew it has so a couple of ancient Roman sites there to see, but we never knew it was a gorgeous town in and of itself. Here's another picture inside the town itself with a view of an ancient Roman temple on the ridge:

Needless to say, we will be visiting Tivoli again! 

Another place we will be visiting again, is a place in another part of the Roman hills that we were introduced to by our friend Alfredo (name has been changed; I didn't ask permission to put him in my blog). Alfredo is someone we met around our apartment building and he's a sweet man. Here are some of the sights we saw with him that day:

I love this country so much. I think Hermes should try and get his citizenship back and we should move here. Seriously, I do. But maybe that's just a dream. One day, on a cold January evening in Calgary, I'll be looking at these pictures and sighing. Or maybe I'll be looking at them on a cold January evening in Italy. Which is still better because it would be Italy!

A Tribute to Two Italian Pioneers

On the morning of March 31st, we received news that my husband's father, Leone Michelini, had passed away. While we knew this was coming for the previous two to three weeks, when we left on our mission in November, this was not what we expected at all. In spite of Papa being 90 years old, he seemed healthy and active when we left. We always thought he'd live to 100.  People were always amazed at how young he looked; he walked ever day to Co-op or Safeway to chat with the cashiers and did not need a cane or walker. He exercised every day, studied every day, came to Church every Sunday, and seemed his usual self. When I said goodbye to him in November, he said something to me about maybe he wouldn't be alive when we came back and I laughed and said, "Oh Papa, you'll still be here." Little did we know that his health would shortly freefall dramatically.

We brought Papa and Mamma to Canada to live with us in the year 2000. We built an extension on our house with bedrooms, a kitchen, two bathrooms and plenty of space for them to live while maintaining our own living space. Some people thought it would be a disaster for me to have my in-laws living with us, but it worked out fine. Hermes always said it's because I couldn't speak Italian and they couldn't speak English so it was perfect for avoiding conflict. As many Italians do, my husband felt he ought to be taking care of his parents in their old age and so we did.

Mamma's health was never good. Unlike Papa, her health decline was slow motion and difficult. We always knew that while she was alive, we could not go and serve a mission and that was fine. She passed away in January 2014. Because Papa's health was so good, we knew we could probably make arrangements to go soon. Hermes asked his sister Nives if she would be interested in leaving her home in Germany for a time to stay with Papa while we went on a mission, and she agreed to do so when she retired from her job in 2015. We thought this would be good time to go and began preparing.

Senior missionaries have no restrictions on phone calls home so we phoned home nearly every day from Rome. We started hearing that Papa seemed very tired and was sleeping a lot but he still kept up his daily walks. But in late February and March, the news we were getting became more serious. He went to the doctor who made appointments with specialists but in the end he wound up in hospital where he was diagnosed with massive kidney failure. Our family was told he had anywhere from a few days to a few weeks left. He was moved from the hospital to a hospice.

On Wednesday evening March 30th, we were told that he probably had only hours left and to keep the phone by our bed. As I lay in bed that night waiting to drift off to sleep, I began to think about Papa and realized how grateful I am for choices he made many years ago that ended up affecting my life profoundly. You see, Papa was the one who in 1964 made the choice to listen to the Mormon missionaries.

Papa spent much of the post-war years as a traveling musician.  He was raised in a very poor family in an obscure part of northern Italy in the Po River delta south of Venice. His father had insisted on sending him to music school where he learned violin, piano and trumpet and he, along with his father, brother and sister made a living before the war playing weddings and community events in the area. They would carry their instruments on their backs and cycle their way around the region. Here is a picture from that time.

After World War II, economic conditions were such that Papa was unable to find placement in a symphony orchestra so he joined a big band and then eventually formed his own ensemble. They did gigs all over the world on cruise ships, hotels and resorts. He had married during the war and children came after, and so he would send money home to his wife and children and see them only occasionally over the years.

In 1964, he and his Quartetto were playing in Munich, Germany. He was staying in lodgings there while his family resided in Torino, Italy. At this period of time, the Church was not allowed to proselyte in Italy. Because there were quite a number of Italian migrant workers in Munich during that period of time, the mission president in Munich ordered one district of missionaries to learn Italian and try to teach some of these workers.

One day at a street meeting, two elders talked to an Italian and asked to come meet with him. He gave them an address and later on they went by. When they got to the apartment building, there was no sign of the name of the Italian they had spoken with listed at the door, but they did see another name that looked Italian: Michelini. They buzzed the door and Papa answered. Papa was not the man they had talked to earlier (it appears that man gave them a fake address) but Papa was a curious sort and took the time to speak with them in their broken Italian. He became very very interested in their message, extended his time in Munich and invited his family up to Munich on vacation to hear what "these American students" (as he called them) had to say.

My future husband was 17 at the time. He was a good Catholic who was even considering becoming a priest. He had known only one other person in his life who wasn't Catholic, a girl at school, and he remembers that they thought she was strange. When he heard about the reason their father had invited them up, he was miffed. He decided that he would convert these Americans to the Catholic faith.

Hermes recalls that he and his younger sister had a good laugh behind the elders' backs over their attempts to speak Italian to them. For one discussion, they even hid a tape recorder behind the couch so they could play it later and have even more laughs. Of the two elders, one had learned the verbs and the other had learned the nouns. They did their best, under these conditions, to teach them. If the family had questions, the elders would write the questions down and then said they would come back later with the answers. I'm sure these elders must have done much studying in between lessons.

After a few weeks, Papa, Mamma and Nives had all agreed to baptism. Hermes was not committed. The elders arranged for him to meet with the mission president to answer more questions. Two things happened that ended up convincing him to join his family in baptism; he read a pamphlet called "Which Church is Right?" which gave the historical context of the Christian apostasy after the death of Jesus Christ and the apostles. And he had a dream which gave him peace that this was the right thing to do.

An article in the Church News that was published several months later describes a little of their story:

So Hermes, Nives and Mamma returned to Torino believing they were the only Mormons in all of Italy although they would find out later that there were individual members here and there throughout the country. But there were no others in their region, they had no leadership support for several months, and they would return to family and friends who were astonished and even angry at their conversion away from the established church. I find it a miracle that in spite of this, they kept the faith. The missionaries would arrive several months later as a district of the Swiss Mission and the branch of Torino was started in the Michelini apartment. Later they would move from Torino to Padova and were among the first members there.

I give all credit to Mamma who was truly converted in spite of having little gospel knowledge or leadership support and in turn kept her children in the Church. Under these circumstances, it would have been easy to fall away and return to old habits and customs but they did not. They were true pioneers of the Church in Italy.

Papa would continue to travel with his band for only a few more years. The popularity of The Beatles meant that there was less and less demand for the type of music he played. At age 40 he needed to find a different career. The German railway was hiring and he applied and worked until retirement for them linking up train cars and driving locomotives. Mamma and Nives would move with him to Cologne, Germany. They were an active part of the Church there and Nives continues to call Cologne home although she is temporarily in Canada.

Hermes' path would eventually take him to Canada and, even more eventually, to me. I cannot be more grateful to have him in my life.

So last Wednesday as I lay in bed thinking, I felt a flood of gratitude to Papa and his fateful decision in 1964 to listen to these two American elders. I owe him so much for that and I pay tribute to him for that. I also pay tribute to Mamma who helped keep the family strong under trying circumstances and who welcomed and loved the elders when they first arrived in Italy. 

We miss them but we also rejoice for them. We know they have had a happy reunion and that they are enjoying the company of countless family members who were awaiting his arrival in that better place.

Addio Papa. Addio Mamma. Until we meet again.