St. Basil parishioner Don Kishmarton carefully eyes the align ment of a course of concrete block to make sure the last piece to put in place fits properly. He nudges the block with the worn wooden handle of his trowel. “A little too big,” he mutters.
Pulling the block out, he places it on a makeshift workbench and starts tapping it with the metal edge of the diamond-shaped trowel. He’s careful, making sure to chip a clean straight edge so he won’t have too large of a hole to fill with cement. Remove too much and he’ll have to scrap the block and start over.
With the excess material removed, Kishmarton checks again. This time the small portion of block fits. He aligns it, fills the gaps on both sides. Another course done.
So it goes. Block after block. Course after course. It’s day two on the construction site of a church in the small village of El Rincon, located over the mountains outside of San Francisco de la Paz. It’s the newest church Kishmarton and other members from St. Basil are building in rural Honduras.
It’s Kishmarton’s fourth trip. He keeps coming back because he’s fallen in love with the country and its people. It’s his way of giving thanks for all the gifts of his life.
“For years I’ve just felt that we’ve been truly, truly blessed,” said Kishmarton, 53, a manager for Solon-based Swagelok.
“I wanted to give back and I didn’t want to give back in a way that was easy. I wanted to do something that was tough, something that would make me risk a little bit.”

Santos Baulio Sanchez, top, leads the children of El Rodeo in song as they greeted mission team members leading a program on dental hygiene.

Kishmarton is one of 15 who made the trip from Cleveland in January. Another three on site are hired hands, including site supervisor Jose Tomas Flores, a mason with lifelong experience. Flores’ quiet demeanor is in direct contrast to the constant ribbing the St. Basil folks give each other. Throughout the eight days, the entire team will take their cues from Flores. There’s no language barrier. Laying concrete block is much the same in any culture.
Like Kishmarton, others on the team say they have joined the mission to fulfill a desire to give something back to the church, to thank God for the life of privilege they have. For them, the simple accommodations at a compound once built to house a children’s hospital, the cold showers and the dusty conditions are minor distractions.
“It just opens your eyes, “ said parishioner Bob Smith, 57, also on his fourth trip. He runs his own concrete company, Concrete Works.
“You used to see in magazines the pictures of the shacks and the landfills the people are picking out of. I’ve never witnessed that, but I sure have seen the shacks. And the sanitary conditions are very rough.”
Serving others is what led parishioner Carrie Georgopoulos to make her first trip.
“The mission trip allows me to be in a place where God is present and there is a way for us to connect with each other,” she said. “I find when you meet someone where they are it includes getting out of your comfort zone. Making a sacrifice to me means getting out of your comfort zone and serving Christ.”
Robin Youngs, 47, parish life activities coordinator at St. Basil, was making her fourth trip. Each time, she said, she has felt fortunate “to extend myself a bit to help others.”
“I love the fact the I’m part of a group that makes it possible for people not to have to walk two hours to enrich their lives by being able to go to Mass, “ she explained. “I love the fact that my husband and my family are at St. Basil’s on a Sunday and I’m in Honduras and we’re celebrating the same Eucharist.
“I feel closer to God because you see God in so many places over and over and over.”
Christa Jo Abood, a mother of three young boys whose husband David made the trip in 2005, called her experience an “adventure to answer God’s call.”
“I feel like God is leading me somewhere,” she said, “and if I follow I don’t know where I’ll end up, but every experience that I have brings me closer to Him and just gives me more ways to praise Him and thank Him. I feel I have just such a privileged life and I wonder ‘Why me?’”
Richard Rena, 72, is an “outsider” with the group. He represented the Independence Chapter of the Kiwanis, which has supported the mission trips financially for several years.
A gymnastics coach in Cleveland, Rena spent some time organizing the children who visited the compound from a nearby neighborhood—La Colonia. He got them to march in unison around the grounds and to do some tumbling. The trip got him thinking.
“The whole idea that they are lazy people is wrong,” he said. “Like Father (Walter Jenne) said, you see a lot of guys sitting around street corners with their houses falling down. Well, yes, because they don’t have the money to fix them.”
Dan Stumbaugh, 40, a pre-sale systems engineer with Cisco Systems, felt so good about his trip a year ago that he re-upped for a return visit. He said the simple life of the Honduran people has left an impression.
“I love gadgets, the newest, latest things,” he confessed. “Since I’ve been down here I’ve had less desire to do that. You can’t buy happiness. You see the tools people have down here.” He shakes his head.
Marilyn Cimperman, 53, who is in recovery from a bout with cancer, said some of her friends wondered why she would want to go to an undeveloped country to work under difficult conditions.
“I don’t get it,” she said she told them. “You can’t be inconvenienced for a week?
“I like the feeling I feel down here. It’s a simple peacefulness. I like taking it home with me.”