Ve, que bonito. Ve, que precioso.

(I usually keep my personal hand-written journal completely separate from my blog, but I'd like to share something I wrote on my travels this past weekend, to a beautiful nature reserve called Tisey. This is more or less exactly what I wrote in my journal, which was written on Saturday night.)

"Ve, que bonito. Ve, que precioso." "See, how beautiful. See, how precious."
I couldn't even count how many times Alberto Gutierrez, the old sculptor here in Tisey who has carved 40+ meters of rock on the side of a cliff, said that to me today during our one-hour visit. He said it about everything - the incredible view of the valleys and mountains of northern Nicaragua, the 400 varieties of orchids that grow here, about other plants, even about his own work. And he was right - it was all so, so beautiful. The view stretched to Honduras and the mountains and plains between here and there - one day full of war and violence, but now full of more peace than I've found in a while. Alberto's carvings are, in his words, a representation of the culture of all of Nicaragua. How beautiful, how precious that culture is.

Alberto Gutierrez with part of his mural

As I walked with Alberto, he showed and gave me many things. He gave me an explanation of the symbology of his work, he gave me stories of his life, he gave me a bunch of limon dulce (a citrus fruit) and an orange, which he used a long stick to knock down from the tree and then hiked down a hill to retrieve it and peel it with his machete before giving it to me. He gave me a handmade bracelet and some flowers. The entire time we spent together, all he did was serve. He told me about how he dreamed of making this mural when he was young, and how lucky he is to be able to do it. He told me of all the things he hopes to carve in the future, "if it's in God's plan too." When we were finished, he walked me out to the entrance of the path and made sure I knew how to get to where I planned to go next. He gave me a better understanding of service: giving time, material goods, and knowledge to a random stranger who visits unannounced.

More of Alberto's mural

The most important thing that Alberto gave me today, though, was a new outlook on every person, thing, and experience I come in contact with. All day, his simple exclamation of "Ve, que bonito. Ve, que precioso." has been repeating in my head. Given it's been ten hours and it's still repeating, I figured it was worth reflecting on some more. So as I lay on my bed and just opened myself up to the words, I came to the realization that they're exactly what God says when he looks at any one of us. God looks at me, no matter how close or far I make myself from Him, and says, "See how beautiful you are. See how precious you are." As I sit in my cabin and let that simple yet profoundly important message sink in, I am crying. I find it easy to forget how beautiful and precious I am to God, and today's reminder from an eighty-something year old eccentric Nicaraguan artist in the middle of a nature reserve was something I needed.

God says the same thing to each dirty child I see in Chureca, to the 12 year old troublemaker who likes to make our lives hard in Cedro Galan, to every unborn child, to every person who may not believe that they are beautiful and precious, and to every person who has never heard that message before. And He says it to and about you: "See how beautiful you are. See how precious you are." Will you let yourself believe it, maybe even for the first time?

Alberto kept telling me to take pictures so I could show his work and the landscape's beauty to my family and friends. While I can easily share those, I really hope the main thing I share will be his message: "Ve, que bonito. Ve, que precioso." It is a message the whole world needs to hear.

Tisey, Nicaragua