02--the Long Wait

Chapter Two The Long Wait

The pilgrimage was decided, but the details remained. And ahead of me was a long wait, full of anticipation and anxious energy as I dreamed of the day I would return to the land I had once loved so dearly. The semester was nearly over, but I knew that my journey south wouldn’t be possible until later that summer. In the meantime, I gathered information and formulated my plans. First, I spoke with William Griffin, a good friend and former zone leader. He had returned to Mexico the previous summer, and he had a plethora of information and advice for me to use in planning my own journey south. Billy had traveled with very little forethought, driving his car as far as Brownsville, Texas, walking across the border, and busing his way to Tampico. However, his trip was a splendid success, relying as he did on the typical hospitality of the warm-hearted Mexican people. Every home he visited offered him food and a place to stay for the night. Not only did he not pay for hotels during his trip, he never paid for a single meal. Although I was prepared to pay for my own food, I also knew that the humblest of families would insist that I take a meal at their table. As a missionary I had learned that such hospitality was an inevitable part of the Mexican soul. From Billy I learned that such love was not reserved for missionaries alone. Although I admired the daring of Billy’s spontaneous adventure, I desired a more concrete plan for myself. As the semester wound to its close, I learned about the magic of e-mail, and used this new tool to find lodging for myself during portions of my journey. I sent a message to Sister Gillespie, asking her if I could stay at the mission home for the two days I would be in Tampico. She replied with a hearty “yes.” I also emailed Magdalena Olvera, a good friend who lived and worked in the border town of Matamoros. She also agreed to shelter me for a couple of evenings, after first joking that I’d be fine sleeping on her patio with the dogs. I also made phone calls to Victoria and Huejutla, ironed out arrangements, and devised an itinerary.

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One of the most important decisions I had to make was transportation. I knew that once I arrived in Mexico, travel would be easy and affordable. The difficult question in front of me, though, was how to get there in the first place. I toyed with the idea of flying into Tampico, but rejected the idea when I saw the projected airfare. I explored the option of taking a greyhound south to Brownsville and crossing the border on foot into Matamoros. But my research indicated that Greyhound buses were slow, expensive, and uncomfortable. It made me long for the comforts of Mexican buses. That wistful thought generated an idea in my head. The sooner I crossed into Mexico, the sooner I would be able to take advantage of their superior bussing industry. I looked into bus lines which traveled between Denver and El Paso, found one that was affordable and fast, and reserved a ticket with them. The return trip, however, required me to take a greyhound from Matamoros all the way home to Denver. I decided I could live with the inconvenience on that end of the pilgrimage. I had never traveled solo in my life, and one of my chief concerns was safety. Reasoning that a dumb, gringo burdened with heavy luggage was certain to attract a lot of unwanted attention, I decided I should travel as light as possible. A single backpack would be ideal. Not only would it allow me to travel more inconspicuously, it would also allow me a greater degree of mobility. As my plans solidified, I realized I had one final obstacle to overcome— convincing my parents this trip would be safe and affordable. The former would be my mother’s primary concern, and the latter would be my father’s. I printed a spreadsheet with a list of likely costs, taking into account what Billy had reported to me concerning Mexican hospitality. One evening, shortly after returning home for the summer, I approached my parents as they were preparing for bed. With spreadsheet in hand, an itemized list of costs, and an extensive list of safety precautions, I began my pitch. As soon as I was done, my mother turned pleading eyes to my father and said, “We have to let him do this. It’s so important to him.” Sold! The date of my trip was set to coincide with the anniversary of my release as a missionary from the Mexico Tampico Mission of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latterday Saints. I wanted to be in Mexico, and on the road, to celebrate that very important event. My plans were complete and approved by early May, and so I settled in for the Long Wait, a wait that in many respects mirrored the first one. It was a time of nervous energy, boundless enthusiasm, and unfettered optimism.

Thursday, July 11, 1996 I had a great day today. I have come to understand the work a great deal better. My focus is on Christ. In this way, I avoid depression. If I throw myself into the work, all will be well. We had the Training Resource Center this evening, wherein we knocked on doors and were videotaped making a first contact. One entire floor of a building in the MTC was converted into a fake “neighborhood.” The classrooms were decorated to look like living rooms, and each room was occupied by a member of the community who would role-play as an investigator. Our goal as missionaries was to gain entry to the home, place a Book of Mormon, and make an appointment to return and teach the first discussion. Video cameras were in

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each room, and when we were finished with our attempt, we would go to the central operating room and watch the video of our pathetic attempts at missionary work. We would then identify areas in which we could improve, and then do it one more time. Our first try was an elderly lady who had been in Palmyra the summer before. She was so interested in our message and kept asking questions that it almost seemed too easy. Elder Callister and I had to focus our efforts in delivering the message in the allotted time. Our second scenario was a crusty old man who baited me into Bible-bashing. He nearly defeated us, but I backed off and retreated to common ground. We placed a Book of Mormon, but were unable to get a return appointment from him. He told me later that he plays mean all the time, but if a missionary bears a sincere testimony, he’ll soften up. I am so much more confident now. I have leaned on the Lord and he has made me a people person (sort of). I taught the first charla in Spanish to another district, and realized that strengths in English aren’t always strong in Spanish. Part of my scripture memorization relied on remembering where on the page a particular verse is located. Trying to find that same scripture in a foreign-language layout of the standard works became a challenge. Far from getting me down, it motivated me into learning the scriptures in Spanish. Friday, July 12, 1996 Another great day at the MTC. In four weeks, I’ll be in my first area. This morning, the whole district blew off steam and relieved some tension. We had a very honest, open, and frank discussion about each other and stuff. I have heard it said that every district goes through something similar sometime in their sixth or seventh week. The very nature of the MTC creates ample opportunities for hurt feelings to fester and grow. Living in such close proximity to eleven other individuals makes every little annoying habit seem penetratingly vexatious. What brought our eruption to a head was an attempt to sing “Ye Elders of Israel.” Half of us ended up singing terribly off key, while those who were musically inclined, notably Tonks and Hasty, got really annoyed at those of us who had ruined the hymn. We started yelling at each other, and Hermano Thomas was forced to step in and organize what would otherwise have been a friendship-shattering free-for-all. I think he had seen the undercurrent and was waiting for it all to boil to the surface. It is a tribute to how much we trusted him that we imploded during his class. He sacrificed his lesson plan for the day, but we walked away that morning feeling a greater degree of love for one another. For several weeks now, we had been dreaming of a reunion after the mission at Watkins’s cabin in Montana. This could have put an end to that dream, a dream which sustained us through many trying moments in the Missionary Training Center. As a part of the truce that Hermano Thomas hammered out, Elders Hasty and Tonks agreed to try and help those musically impaired members of the

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district, instead of getting angry at us. I, in turn, agreed to humbly accept their correction and instruction in a field that I knew little about. Thus, not only did I renew my friendship with Hasty and Tonks, I also learned how to direct music. I’m not very good, but I hope to be. Lipiec was frustrated; I advised reading and studying “How Firm A Foundation.” I later wondered if I had the right to counsel and advise, but remembered having similar feelings after doing the same things for Annie. Annie had later thanked me for taking her concerns seriously, so I figured that doing something similar for Hermana Lipiec could not hurt. God is awesome. I’m leaning on Him full time. Saturday, July 13, 1996 Wow. I’m just having one great day after another. It’s a Saturday, which means I got a little down, but I’m doing fine. I’m getting into the mindset that there is no reason why I cannot be the best missionary ever. I am leaning on the Lord and learning of His spirit. My hunger for the Book of Mormon grows day by day. We got our travel plans on Wednesday, and we leave three weeks from Monday. I (along with the entire district) am ready to get into the field. I think the thing that makes me happiest is that I’ve re-conquered my low self-esteem. I owe it all to the Lord; I will give everything to the Lord. During these long months of training, each one of us in the district caught the same vision of missionary work, felt the same fires of faith kindling in our hearts, though that feeling affected us all in different ways. Elder Fister, for example, decided that he needed to focus his complete attention on the task at hand. He wrote to his girlfriend, telling her that he was moving on, asking her not to wait for him. Thus, he was the first in our group to lose his girlfriend, albeit he did so willingly. Elder Taylor, on the other hand, had a different reaction. His letters to his girlfriend inspired her so much that she embroidered ten silk pillowcases with the words “called to serve” and sent them to her boyfriend’s mission compatriots. Sunday, July 14, 1996 My call as a missionary came from Christ. He, in effect, has said to me, “Nathan, I need your help. Some brothers and sisters of ours are walking in darkness. You don’t remember them, but we both love them very much. I want to bring them home to our Father, but until they have the gospel, they cannot enter into His presence. I would teach them myself, but I am unable to at this time. Will you do it for me? Will you act in my stead and bring these lost souls unto our Father?” How can I say no? How can I refuse this humble request from He who has given me so much. I know now how to lose myself in the work. I will go forward with one purpose only—to serve Him. I will lay upon the Altar of Sacrifice my past life.

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If, when these two years are over, He will restore that life to me, or another, it mattereth not. He will do what is best for my life. For now, my focus will be on the Work. I will not cling to the life that I have left behind, but I shall cling to Eternal Life. From this moment, Nathan Barrett is no more, only Elder Barrett exists, and his sole purpose is to love and to serve the people of Mexico. A bit melodramatic, I think. And I don’t think I ever lost myself in the work to the degree dreamed of here. But I understood that my ceaseless worries about the friends I left behind were only dragging me down and affecting my performance. I tried to focus completely on the work, but there were still days when I retreated in my mind to those happy days of yesteryear. Those were the days when I came home from a long day of proselyting; beaten, broken and defeated, longing for the familiar and comfortable life that I sacrificed so I could suffer and sweat for the people of Tampico, Mexico. More on that later. Monday, July 15, 1996 I asked Hermano Frandsen today about the toilets in Mexico, and was much relieved at his answer. For some reason, this had been a very worrisome topic for me. I really did not want to spend two years relieving myself in rustic outhouses. Hermano Frandsen promised that they had flushing toilets in Mexico, but what he neglected to tell me was that toilet seats were often optional. Three weeks from today, I’ll be in Tampico. Three weeks left here at the Empty Sea. Three weeks: so much to learn, so little time. I always endeavor to start some large project, from studying the history of the tribes of the Middle East, to cross-referencing my patriarchal blessing, but I never finish. There is so much to learn, and I want to learn it all! I just don’t have enough hours in the day or months in the year to learn all that I want to. Currently, my project is to learn some 200 scriptures that relate to the doctrines taught in the discussions. I love it here! Tuesday, July 16, 1996 I had a great talk with Elder Smith, one of my district leaders, tonight. We just happened to meet in the hall and we spent half an hour talking about Stuff. He’s great. This was the first of many talks I had with Elder Nathan Smith during my final weeks of training. I usually dropped by his dorm, which was two doors down from mine, in the early afternoon, before our PM class. I heard a talk tonight from Lance B. Whitman about how to be a great missionary. I want so bad to be one of the best. However, I have this stumbling block of pride in front of me; I don’t know how to overcome it. I won’t dwell on the negative. I know the Lord will help me if I do my part. I want so badly to be a good missionary.

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Extracts from a Letter to my Parents “The most important thing I can do as a leader is to love those I serve. If I genuinely love the elders in my branch, and if they know that I care, it is easy and fun to guide and uplift, correct or commend. I think love is also one of the grand keys to being a good missionary. If I love those whom I teach, the spirit can more easily touch them. The English-speaking district that I welcomed and oriented during my first week as AP left this morning. It makes me feel old, seeing these guys who were once so green now entering the field. I love them and hope they do great work up in Canada.” Wednesday, July 17, 1996 I got two new districts today. I now have five of them: fifty-seven missionaries, forty-nine of which are elders. The pressure is again weighing me down. I only have another two weeks to serve as AP. I’m not sure I can make it. I think I’ll be fine. I always got a little down when new districts arrived. This was the second time that I welcomed two districts at once, and this time around I invited Elders Felley and Fister to split with me and welcome the greenies. I’m just a little worried about my abilities as a leader. This happens every time I get a new district in. Nothing else to report. Hermano Meik’s wife had a baby on Thursday. Riley Kindon Meik. It’s their first son. How exciting. Thursday, July 18, 1996 I had some struggles today. It seems that whenever I do anything that reminds me of how socially inept I am, I get down on myself. I think I could be happy spending the rest of my life in an endless library. I wouldn’t have to deal with people, I wouldn’t have to worry about my inadequacies. I could just spend my time expanding my knowledge. Alas, the Gospel of Christ does not work that way. Unto whom much is given, much is required. Because I have been given much, I too must give. I truly have been blessed, and I truly do want to repay my Savior. But I am an inadequate vessel of His gospel. I thought I had put these feeling behind me, but working with these two new districts really ate away at my newly discovered euphoria. I was on the verge of the greatest trials of my tenure as Assistant to the President, and Satan was willing to try anything to weaken me before the upcoming tests. Friday, July 19, 1996 I learned an important principle of leadership this evening. In an effort to relieve the monotony of endlessly similar days, Elder Castillo struck upon the idea of commandeering one of the cushioned benches from the building’s foyer and bringing it into our classroom and sitting upon it for the course of the day.

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Recently, Castillo had done some things to annoy me, and so I was a little out of sorts with him to begin with. He looked at me, as if offering a challenge, and I subtly shook my head. My negative response goaded him on, and he began to haul his captured treasure into the room. I spoke up at that point, verbalizing my objections to his actions. As soon as I had opened my mouth, some others in the district disagreed with my opinions and they, in turn, verbalized their objections to my objection. I was ready to give in when Castillo, perhaps wanting to preserve peace within the district, relented in his pursuit of comfort. Later that night, needing someone to talk to, needing to define the limits of my authority, and determine if I had indeed overstepped them this evening, I walked two doors down and spoke with Elder Smith. He and I had a talk about leadership; we referenced it to the book, Ender’s Game. We came up with the following conclusions: I AM a leader. I HAVE been called to guide and direct. There is nothing power-hungry in this statement. I have duties that need to be executed. I will do them. I can’t afford to be “one of the guys.” I need to be bold in laying down the law. Yet I need to love. When I forgot that I loved Castillo, the situation got out of hand. I need not be afraid of people. I’ve been called to be the Assistant to the President, and I will BE the Assistant to the President. Saturday, July 20, 1996 I don’t know what to say. We taught the first charla to an RM from Chile. He was Meik’s brother-in-law. We did something called “the proselyting experience.” Our teachers had been talking about it for weeks, but it was actually disappointing and anti-climactic. What it amounted to was the convergence of three districts, pairing up with elders from those districts, and role playing various situations with them. It was basically what we had been doing for the last two months, only on a larger scale. My Spanish is improving and I’m very (well, kind of) confident in my language abilities. Tonight, Elder Smith and I had a long talk about Mormon culture and living in Utah. Now there’s an elder who is going to be successful. Elder Smith was an amazing elder, at least from what I saw of him in the MTC. He was intelligent, athletic, a firm leader, and had a healthy sense of humor. Every week, we all had to write letters to the branch president, and his district was always overly curious about what he was writing. One week, after having checked with me to see if it would be okay, he planted a false letter for his district to discover when he was in the bathroom. He told me all about it that very night, right down to the dumbfounded expressions on their faces when he returned from his invented bathroom break. “He hates us,” his district exclaimed with shock and awe. I love all of my elders, though some of them present a struggle. I need to learn how to deal with Elder Grissam. I’ll leave it to his DL, and hope I haven’t done wrong. Every night, I would visit one or two dorms within the branch. This was not out of some desire to exercise my power, but rather, an honest effort to fulfill my duties as Assistant to the President. I got to know all of the elders in my

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branch and learned to love them. Elder Grissam was in a district training for a mission to a foreign land. He was short and heavy-set, and often displayed excessive pride. For these flaws, members of my district often mocked him behind his back. However, he was aware of his failings, and came to talk with me about them one night. We talked, and I later pulled his district leader aside and explained to him the situation. Elder Grissam, it turned out, was hiding a lot of pain. His much-admired older brother was killed in an automobile accident the year before, leaving him an only child. When I encountered one of his former companions several years after our missions were complete, he informed me that Elder Grissam had been sent home a year early due to emotional instability. I still feel pain for the lonely elder who lived next door to me. Sunday, July 21, 1996 I had a talk this afternoon with President Gappmeyer. I had filled my weekly letter to him with my fears and anxieties about being a leader. He felt that we should set aside some time to talk. We spoke about leadership. After Friday night, I have had doubts about my ability as a leader. He told me of an experience he had. When he was first called as a Bishop, five whole families opposed his sustaining. A leader is never perfect and there are always those who backbite and criticize. Also, President Gappmeyer pointed out that the most powerful man in the world (politically, that is) needs only 51% of the votes to ascend into that office. I know that I am no Elder Smith. I am not the stern, bold, commanding leader. I am a different person; my leadership style is different. I hope to develop it and make it more effective. I do love all of my elders, and they know it. I think that as long as I love those I serve, I can lead effectively. My only concern is that there is a fine line that I walk. With Smith’s style, respect is a little easier to earn; commanding is inherent in it. With me, I need to love, yet set an example; I can’t always be one of the guys. I can lead, because I love. Respect is harder to earn. I’m not sure if this makes sense. I will, however, develop my skills, and hopefully become a leader in the Kingdom. Monday, July 22, 1996 I had a very rocky day today. In the PM class, I asked Elder Watkins to put an end to some gossiping that was going through the district. Elder Pierson, a new elder from the English-speaking group I welcomed the previous Wednesday, was the subject of the ridicule here in question. He and his companion had moved into the empty bunks in Tonks’s and Watkins’s room. On his second or third day, he left a poorly written poem on his desk, explaining to his roommates that they should not touch his stuff. Elder Castillo swiped the poem, and read it in class, making fun of Elder Pierson as he did so. When no immediate cooperation was forthcoming, I said something myself. I don’t think I handled it at all properly. I should have waited for Watkins

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to handle the situation on his own timetable instead of impatiently rushing in to rebuke the elders in my district. Several elders got defensive, my companion among them. Many even told me that it was none of my business, or that it was no big deal and that I should just leave it alone. I stood my ground, and Elder Watkins came to the rescue with Tonks and Stauffer in tow. I won; the gossip has stopped. But at what cost? Elder Callister later apologized, yet I wonder if I have hurt my position more than I helped it. We attended a cultural meeting tonight. I thought that the meeting would be stupid; I was expecting the meeting to be a superficial glance at Mexican culture. However, this meeting was awesome. It was taught by two native Mexicans who had both served missions in their homeland. When we walked into the room where the meeting was being held, it was like walking into Mexico. The room had been decorated with all sorts of neat stuff: sombreros, native clothing, and blankets. Mariachi music was playing on the speakers. We learned about the history, the people, the beliefs, the customs, and some slang words from Mexico. I love Mexico and Mexicans already! I can’t wait to get down there. Two weeks from today. Tuesday, July 23, 1996 Great P-Day. I received a letter from Zach, and wrote six letters (parents, Blake, Shawn, Ady, Jeff, and Zach.) We listened to Spencer Condi this evening. I made a goal to finish the Book of Mormon by the time I leave the Empty Sea. I’m learning how to be a leader. I feel more confident. I’ve pretty much overcome my homesickness. I want to go to Mexico right now! I’m happy to be a part of this work. My personal studies are going well. Wednesday, July 24, 1996 So, knowing that today was Wednesday, and knowing that I would be getting a new district, and knowing this usually brings me down, I braced myself. I think I did okay. I love my branch, but I think that my district has no respect for my position. When I try to act in my capacity as AP, they disregard my council and advice. Perhaps that is the key: they see me always as an AP; it is not a cloak or a mantle to be taken off at will. I need to lead in everything I do. It was as I had illustrated earlier. I could not be “one of the guys,” and then later feel remorse, repent, and ask others to do the same. I would only look like a hypocrite. I had to set the example from the beginning, and thus strengthen my moral position. I still would rather work alone. Thursday, July 25, 1996 Tonight I walked into the room of one of my new districts, and they were playing some church music that I really like: “Greater Than Us All.” At first I

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said it was okay, even though any music is against the rules at the MTC. After I had left, I began to reconsider what I had told them, and decided I did not want to set that kind of precedent; I did not want my elders to be picking and choosing among the rules to be obeyed at the Mission Training Center. Fifteen minutes later I returned and overruled my previous decision. I don’t know if I looked weak and vacillating or humble and sincerely trying to do what is best. Somewhere I need to find the balance: Personal Concern | | Control————————Freedom | | Professional Distance This was a drawing in my journal. When it says control and freedom, it refers to the type of leadership style. The first is a strong, commanding style, the other allows for a greater exercise of agency. Balancing them is personal concern and professional distance. Finding a leadership style was a practice in finding a place on the above graph that worked with my personality. Friday, July 26, 1996 I love my branch, and in another week or so, I’ll be leaving them. Some of them have been a struggle to love, but I love them all. As I’ve mentioned before, every night I would go visit a few of them and thus was able to get to know all of them fairly well. I would often return to my own dorm, and walking in, I’d state “I love our branch,” or some other similar sentiment. My district started taking bets on what the first word out of my mouth would be when I returned from my evening visits. Today was a great day. We worked behind the cameras at the Training Resource Center. I taught the second charla to another class; the spirit was there and the language flowed. Tomorrow, Elder Callister and I will teach it to some native speakers. My love for the Book of Mormon is near bursting, and I’ve nearly finished reading the Bible Dictionary. I’ve soaked in so much information from it, and I’ll probably read it again for retention. The MTC is awesome, but I long to labor in the field. Saturday, July 27, 1996 I taught the second discussion (charla) to a native speaker. No, wait. It was another gringo. ¡Ay chihuahua! Callister and I still did well. We brought the spirit and stuff. I think we work well together.

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Tonight, Elders Pierson and Castillo almost got in a fight. This was right before our evening class. This was the last and greatest challenge during my leadership tenure. It not only tested my leadership abilities, but it also vindicated my actions of the previous week. The district leaders (Elders Bach and Watkins) were quick to break it up. After class, I sat down with the district leaders and the participants. Elder Castillo apologized, and he, Pierson, and Bach knelt together in prayer. My branch is great. Elder Bach told me tonight that he and his elders all love and respect me. I think that without knowing it, I achieved something this past month and a half. I was released from my position three days later, and I don’t think I could have finished on a much higher note. I left the MTC knowing that the Lord would support and sustain me in whatever calling He would extend to me, during the next two years, and throughout my life. Sunday, July 28, 1996 This morning in correlation meeting, while listening to the reports from the district leaders, and how they’ve handled the difficult situations this week, my eyes misted up a bit. I love my branch so much. I’m going to miss them. In sacrament meeting, the new AP was called: Elder Sutton from the Brazilian district that I welcomed on Wednesday. I ran through some of his duties this evening, impressing upon him the need for love for all the members of his district. I vaguely recall Elder Gillespie giving me the same advice and counsel. I guess it was just something that I had to learn on my own. On Tuesday, the change of office will be executed, and I again will be an elder among the rank and file of this army of God. However, as my Districts have told me on several occasions: I’ll always be their AP. I’m going to miss it, but I’ll still be able to associate with my districts in an unofficial capacity. Even after my release, I continued visiting a few dorms every night, as was my custom. I did so because I truly enjoyed their company. They are all my friends, and the love that exists between us, exists regardless of my position or calling. Time marches ever onward, and in a week I’ll be packed and ready to leave. I wish I had more time to prepare, but the advent of tomorrow is inescapable. Seconds melt away, never to be again, and the sun rises on another day. Before we know it, Tomorrow is Yesterday, and the future lies on our doorstep, waiting to burst through our front door. Time passes, lives move onward, and change becomes our constant companion. Monday, July 29, 1996 For the sixth time in three years, I have finished reading the Book of Mormon from cover to cover. This has been one of the best readings. I picked up things that I had never noticed before, understood concepts that were before confusing. It was great. I started reading in First Nephi on my first day in the MTC. Tomorrow, I will begin in the Introduction and try to read the whole book

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in a week or less. I know that I can do it. This book is so awesome. It cannot be anything else but the word of God. I can’t wait to introduce the world to it. Tuesday, July 30, 1996 I’m in Second Nephi, chapter twelve now. I covered eighty pages, four more than the seventy-six I need to read daily in order to finish by Monday. Tonight, I was released from my position as Assistant to the President. Before doing so, President Gappmeyer asked me to bear my testimony, and I did so. I talked briefly about the changes that had occurred in my personality during my service as AP. I spoke of how I used to be timid, afraid of people, and somewhat cynical of their motivations. However, serving in this capacity had made me grow, and I felt much better prepared to be a missionary than I would have otherwise been. In a week I’ll be in my first area, working to spread the gospel. A lot of introspection these last couple of days, where I’ve been, where I’m going, and so forth. I’ve learned so much in the last few weeks: love, leadership, patience, and a brighter outlook of people. I used to be cynical about people. I’m less so now. I started packing today. This last sentence is perhaps a good indication of how ready we all were to be getting on with our missions.

Extracts from a Letter to my Parents “We had our disease prevention class last night. It’s no wonder that they save this class for the last week. By this time, our excitement cannot be dampened by stories of tapeworms, or giardia, or “acute gastrointestinal disorders.” Holy cow, that was scary. I’m still excited about going, though. “We’ve learned all the Spanish that we’re going to here at the MTC. The rest of the week is review. I think my Spanish skills are passable. I know I can talk about religious stuff, but my day-to-day vocabulary is fairly weak. I guess I’ll just have to work on that. “Thanks to Dad, I was able to hold my own in a softball game on Thursday. My district wasn’t expecting much; after all, I’m the bookworm. However, I got a base hit in each at bat, and made several key plays at first base. My district was pleasantly surprised, and I enjoyed being a well-rounded person.” Wednesday, July 31, 1996 I’m in Mosiah, chapter 13. I finished with 172 pages, twenty more than required for my goal. I’m also trying to get into a semblance of decent shape. Combine some cardiovascular exercise with crunches and healthy eating, and I should be able to do it. My sudden worry about my weight came about when I noticed that the belt I brought with me to the MTC no longer fit, and that some of my pants were beginning to split at the seams. I wasn’t using my gym time as effectively as I ought. More often than not, I brought a book and read, while my district played

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volleyball, or basketball, or soccer. The one time we played softball, I participated, but it was too little, too late. Another contributing factor to my unprecedented weight gain was the fact that I was eating a lot of Mexican food. In trying to prepare my taste buds for the spiciness of the food south of the border, I would pile heaps of Tabasco and picante sauce onto every selection of Mexican food that the cafeteria offered. However, this would often prove to be too spicy, so I would pile on liberal doses of fatty sour cream to off set the other sauces. And I guess the all-you-can-eat crepe bar every Friday didn’t help much either. In any case, the result was a fat Elder Barrett. We may have some visa problems. We’ll find out for sure tomorrow. I got my second hepatitis shot today. All sorts of fun. I still need to mail the letters I wrote yesterday. I’ll wait until tomorrow when I know more about the whole visa situation. Until then. . . Thursday, August 1, 1996 I’m in Alma, chapter 14. I am fifteen pages ahead of where I should be. Our visas have been delayed and we are here for another week. We are suspended in a state of limbo. I also received a package from Darren, it contained a copy of the August 1996 National Geographic, which dedicated the entire issue to Mexico. I also received the sword of Laban. The sword was made of wood, and came in a rosewood box. It symbolized two things. First was the exceptional character attribute that Nephi demonstrated, when he said, “I will go and do the things the Lord commands.” The second was to remind me of the many camping trips that Darren had planned and organized for our teacher’s quorum so many years ago. Every youth who went on one of Darren’s camping trips had to bring a hiking stick, which symbolized the priesthood, and from these sticks, we hung ornaments corresponding to the spiritual lessons we had every evening. The first fireside of the first expedition (which was themed “Heroes of Righteousness,”) was focused on Nephi, and we each received a small wooden sword to hang from our walking sticks. Darren had moved away shortly after I graduated from high school, but he flew to Utah to be my escort through the Salt Lake Temple when I received my endowments. This package was the last I heard from him, and he included a letter that expressed his faith in me, and the confidence he had in me that I would be a great missionary. The letter made me cry. Grant Morgan is also here at the MTC. I’m going to try and meet him tonight or tomorrow. I’m having problems with Elders Hasty, Callister and others. Hasty, as a very vocal and outspoken individual, often exerted some influence over the others. He and I were often on opposite sides of an issue, and this seems to be the case today, though I can’t remember what the issue may have been. My parents left for Peru this morning. I can’t wait to get to Mexico.

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Friday, August 2, 1996 The tension is palpable. Everyone is waiting, waiting, waiting. . . The visas didn’t come today, perhaps tomorrow or Monday. Even worse than monotony is nothingness. Due to the visa delay, all activity just sort of stopped in all of our classes. This was supposed to be the review week, the week they got us wound up and ready to go, but we just weren’t in the mood because we knew that we would not be leaving the MTC on Monday, as originally planned. We did watch “Johnny Lingo” in Spanish. It was Hermano Thomas’s last day at the MTC. We’ll miss him. I met up with Grant Morgan today. It was nice, but we’ve both gone our separate ways. The past is past. I’ll leave it there. You can never go back. I stopped reading the Book of Mormon; I just wasn’t getting anything out of it at that pace. More to the point, I simply lost the drive and determination. The goal to read the Book of Mormon in a week was made out of a desire to read it one last time before leaving the MTC, and since our departure date was now an indefinite, I abandoned the goal. Instead I focused on a different one. I started it in Spanish. I also started reading the Old Testament. There was more tension ‘tween Hasty and I. I don’t know what to do. Elder Bach and I just had a great talk. I love him; he’s going to be a great missionary. He and I became good friends, much in the same way that Elder Smith and I had. He was the DL of one of the English-speaking districts, and as such, only had another week before he would be entering the field. He had a couple of problem elders, including Elder Pierson, but he did an admirable job of keeping everyone together and remaining focused on the work. Saturday, August 3, 1996 We’re still waiting. This really sucks. I want so much to go to Mexico. I want to go now! Tonight I was able to just hang with the elders in my branch. Despite not being AP anymore, I feel a lot of love and respect from my elders. We finally taught a first discussion (albeit one for new members) to a native speaker. What should have been our crowning achievement, our brightest hour, was simply another chore as we waited for our visas to come through. We had our final Large Group Meeting. It would have been more meaningful if we were leaving Monday. The LGM was about how to behave while traveling to the mission field. We paid attention, of course, but there was still that nagging feeling of disappointment attendant with our dissatisfaction. These were some of the longest, toughest days in the Missionary Training Center. On the advice of Hermano Frandsen, I took some of my long-sleeve shirts into the MTC tailor to have them changed into short-sleeve shirts. Thus I entered the mission field with only three long-sleeve shirts, instead of the six that my mission papers had suggested.

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Sunday, August 4, 1996 Well, today was a great Sabbath, dampened by the thoughts that this should have been our last day in the MTC. The whole day passed by slowly. We had a mission conference that was actually pretty good, even though I’ve had a bad attitude all day. I started the Book of Acts today. After having read the Bible Dictionary, I think it’ll make more sense. I’m not sure if I overstepped my authority again, but tonight Elder Bach and I sat down and discussed a struggling elder. His family is falling apart while he is serving the Lord. It’s quite difficult for him. Elder Bach is handling the situation admirably, and I have a lot of faith and love and respect and confidence in him. He’s going to be a great missionary. Today was fast Sunday, and I bore my testimony. I talked of a day five years ago, to the date, in fact. I was at Youth Conference. I felt the spirit. My whole life changed. It was at this Pioneer Trek Youth Conference where I first felt the spirit whisper to me that I needed to go back to church, that I needed to make changes in my life and become active once again. I talked of Shawn and the happiness I found in seeing him find joy. Shawn was my best friend in high school. He taught me to love life and hang on for the thrill ride, and in return, I baptized him a member of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. I talked of my desires to take this message of truth to Mexico. Tomorrow is going to be difficult; I’m going to be constantly thinking of what should have been. Anyway, it was a good day, despite my lethargic, stubborn attitude. As I noted earlier, the fact that we had no definite departure date gave us very little reason to work. We had no goal, no end in sight. I think I took it to extremes this day; I was grouchy with my companion, complained vociferously about everything, and had no desire to do anything. The visa delay brought out the worst in all of us. Monday, August 5, 1996 The visas came in today. This was a huge relief to all of us. Now, they just have to be processed and the Travel Office needs to find us a flight to Tampico. In the meantime, all the waiting Mexican elders (fifty-five of us) will meet together in a single room. The sisters in our district didn’t have problems with their visas, so they left on time the following day. The possibility also exists that we’ll be booted out of our dorm to make room for incoming elders. Had the visas arrived any later than they did, we would have been given temporary assignments to state-side missions. In fact, for the next six months, every generation after ours experienced longer visa delays than our own; many of them served three to six months of their missions in temporary assignments around the United States.

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We also had a wonderful last class with Hermano Meik. The spirit was strong and tears plentiful. Hermano Meik prepared a special class experience for us. On twelve separate slips of paper, he wrote down different tasks that would invite the spirit. These included things like “sing a hymn,” or “bear your testimony,” and also things like “say what you admire about each person in the room.” Each missionary received a randomly assigned task. There was no order in which we were to perform our task, but rather, we were to speak when moved upon by the spirit to do so. It was an amazing class period, and it brought us together one last time before we were to be split apart. I wonder when I’ll be in Mexico. Soon, I hope. Tuesday, August 6, 1996 It happened. We’ve been evicted. We moved out tonight. We’ll spend the next week in a little apartment made for two, just the four of us. At least there’s a private shower! On the north side of the Mission Training Center is an older building that was originally built for senior missionary couples. The dorms there are seldom used now, since their small design did not anticipate use by younger missionaries. Although each room was built for a single married couple, when used for overflow housing, two bunk beds were forcefully crammed into the confined space. Moving was an informal affair. I had packed the week before, in preparation for our departure into the field. When the visas were delayed, I just kept living out of my suitcase, certain that we’d be moving on soon. That night, I just grabbed my stuff, and walked north, leaving my companion behind to continue his packing. On the way back, I was stopped by a security officer, and he asked me where my companion was. I told him about our eviction and forced relocation, how we had to move our stuff quickly, and then added a small fib, saying that in the confusion and stress of the move, I had lost him, when in reality I had abandoned him. He let me go. The rest of the district was slightly more pragmatic about the move than I was. They grabbed one of the large laundry carts that were used for linen exchange, threw their stuff in it, and wheeled it across the campus to our new dormitory on the north side. Fister and Felley moved into the same room with Callister and I, while Taylor and Stauffer bunked with Tonks and Watkins. Hasty and Castillo had a room all to themselves. Today, I read something in “Lectures on Faith” that really bothered me. It sounded like Joseph Smith taught a doctrine that he later retracted, and that troubled me. However, in tonight’s fireside, President Rasband said precisely what I need to hear and the gloom around me was dispelled. It was just a side remark, not even his main point, but it helped me to synthesize the statement in “Lectures on Faith” with the doctrines taught in the scriptures. Immediately, Satan hit me with a remorseful memory. I focused again on the speaker, knowing full well that Joseph Smith was a prophet of God. I love this work. I love being a part of God’s elite army that is sweeping the globe.

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Extracts from a Letter to my Parents “I was released from my position as AP on Tuesday night, and in reflection, I think I may have succeeded in my leadership position. I was talking with Elder Bach, one of my district leaders, and he expressed to me how much his district has come to love, admire, and respect me. It felt good to have my hard work recognized. It’s not that I did anything outstanding, I just loved all my missionaries and tried to keep in touch with them. Sometimes, it was a struggle to love them, but I did it, and they felt it. What conflicts I did have to handle, my success can be directly attributed to the Lord. Of myself, I could have done nothing. My confidence has grown and I know I can be a successful missionary IF I’m obedient and work hard. I want to be the BEST missionary Tampico has ever known. I can only do this if I humbly rely on the Lord and give the work 100% of my effort.” Wednesday, August 7, 1996 We went to the temple today on our second P-Day this week. We did bautismos por la muerte (for the dead). I baptized Callister, and then he baptized me. It was great. We still haven’t received our travel plans. This is the first evening that I can’t visit my friends in the branch; they are on the other side of the MTC. Before I moved out, I was witness to an intimate sharing of feelings with a small group from my branch. Elder Henry opened up to a handful of elders gathered in his room one night. He related how he had used steroids in high school, and the experience that woke him up to the danger of illegal drugs. I marveled at the power of the Atonement, that a person could repent of his sins and be forgiven completely of all his misdeeds. Henry went on to be one of the most successful elders in his mission, and part of this success can be attributed to the fact that not only had the Lord forgiven Henry, but more importantly, Elder Henry had forgiven himself. He was able to enter the mission field with a clear conscience, relying fully on the Lord, and knowing that the price had already been paid for his future success. The whole experience was awe-inspiring and helped me to understand better the infinite power of the Atonement. Today I have been filling my mind with new and interesting stuff. In our new apartment, Felley found an abandoned New Testament Study Manual. I borrowed it for several days, reading through parts of it, studying the maps and charts, and basically trying to learn all that I could about the world at the time of the first Apostles. My study of the New Testament is great. I love learning about the early Church, and I wish there were more details. I’m also enjoying my study of the Old Testament. I’m reading of Jacob and his sons right now. Rumors say we’ll receive our travel plans tomorrow. I hope so.

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Thursday, August 8, 1996 We received our travel plans today. We are to fly through Phoenix, to Mexico City, to Tampico. We leave the MTC at 3:30 am and arrive at 6:55 p.m. It’s going to be a long day. However, it’s not until Wednesday. On that yet future day, we were going to leave Salt Lake Airport at 7:10 am on an hour and a half flight to Phoenix. We were scheduled for a two-hour layover at Sky Harbor Airport, and then we would depart at 9:40 on a three hours flight to Mexico City. Our layover in the nation’s capitol would occupy another three hours, and then we’d take the final hop on a Mexicana flight to Tampico at 6:00 and arrive only fifty-five minutes later. All in all, these travel plans were much better than the original ones issued. With these, we would arrive in Tampico before 7:00 p.m., and on our former plans, that arrival time would not have been until after 9:00. I also finished the Book of Acts. My foundation in the scriptures has broadened, and this book of scripture has helped me to see that Jesus Christ is the Son of God; that He lives! In other words, Jesus Christ is alive, He is living at this very moment. This gives my view of the work vibrancy, vitality, and increased faith. It was a long day, all the Mexican elders have been thrown into a single room with only one teacher. The teacher didn’t do much, though. We watched “What Is Real?” and “Together Forever” in Spanish. I loved hearing Michael McLean songs in Spanish. Friday, August 9, 1996 Another day closer to transfers, another day that I should have spent in the mission field. However, I am grateful for this opportunity to spend more time in study and prayer and reflection. Nothing new happened today. We watched “Prodigal Son” in Spanish. We listened to a good talk by Brother Somebody-or-other, who was a counselor in the MTC presidency, about being the kind of missionary you want to be. I was a little homesick last night, but I’m kind of over it now. All this extra free time lends itself to thinking of home, family, and friends. I just want to throw myself into the work with everything that I have. Work hard, pray hard. I’m a bit frustrated that I’m not in Mexico already. The hermanas have probably already taught a first charla. Saturday, August 10, 1996 Last night, we were hanging around the lounge in our building, when security came along and kicked us out. It was stupid. Of course, we were doing more than just hanging out. Earlier in the week, we had discovered a door in our new building that was always locked. On Friday night, we chanced across it at a time when it wasn’t shut up tight. The door led to a nice lounge area, with couches, easy chairs, and a fireplace. We brought our blankets and pillows into

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the lounge, and planned to sleep the night as a district there. That was when security came along and kicked us out. For the rest of our time at the MTC, the door to the lounge remained locked. This morning, we were taught the first charla by a couple of six-week missionaries. The powers that be at the MTC were running out of activities for the holdover group. They sent us to practice with elders who weren’t as far along in their training, they gave us extra P-Days, and they showed us a bunch of church videos. The rest of the day was spent in a half P-Day—study, sleep, etc. We’ve still got another class to go to tonight. Elders Hasty and Castillo leave Monday morning. Their travel plans were decidedly shorter than ours. They flew to San Diego and crossed the border to Tijuana in one of the mission vehicles. I received a letter from an old high school friend. Things are looking up for him. He had lived with his dad and step mom in Colorado and didn’t get along with either of them. Finally, after graduation, he headed back to Texas to live with his mother there. Life got better for him after that and he started preparing for a mission. I’ll write him a letter from Mexico. Only three more days! We watched a movie about President Hinckley. I want so much to be like him. I know that he is a prophet of God. Sunday, August 11, 1996 I finished reading the Pauline epistles today. It was great. I gave some thought to “the Dispensation of the Fullness of Times.” These last days, this dispensation, is the greatest of all. The Kingdom of God is sweeping the world, the Word of God is penetrating every continent, the servants of God are visiting every nation. All the keys of past dispensations have been gathered together; new and beautiful truths have been revealed. All this in preparation of the coming of our Lord in glory. All prophets of all ages have looked to this time, the time when the glory of God is stronger, brighter, more expansive and full than at any other time. And I am a part of it. What did I do to deserve this? I know I chose Christ’s plan while I was still an unembodied spirit. His was the plan with the most risks and the greatest returns. Yet it was no gamble. I had faith that Christ would do all that he said he would. And for some reason, he chose me to come down at this time to work a work in his Kingdom. Because I chose him. I will not fail him. This was our last Sunday in the MTC, and it was great. Next Sunday will be in Spanish. Last class this evening was powerful. Two Michael McLean movies, and one philosophical. The Church has the best philosophy on agency, law, and freedom. I am thankful for the plan that allows me to be with my family forever. My own, and the one that I will build someday. God is awesome. Christ lives.

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Monday, August 12, 1996 Elders Hasty and Castillo left for Tijuana this morning. They’re probably there already. I finished the New Testament today. I look forward to reading and puzzling out Revelation over the next few decades. Reading the Bible has increased my love and appreciation for modern revelation and living prophets. They are essential! President Williams spoke to the holdover group today. It made me long for the field. I guess I’ll be there soon enough. After tomorrow, the next time I’ll write will be in Mexico. Last night, we had one last district prayer, less the hermanas. It made nearly everyone cry, and as we split up for the last time, we once again evoked Wattie’s cabin, promising ourselves that we would get together again in two years. The four of us bunking in my room were so energized that we stayed up into the wee hours of the morning talking, laughing, and sharing. The whole experience was grand and dreamy. I’m in Exodus in my Old Testament reading. Tuesday, August 13, 1996 It’s my last day in the MTC! I’m in the middle of re-packing. I stopped briefly to write a quick letter to my family. I hope it says what I want it to say. Just a quick note before I pack the journal away. I’m excited, nervous, and so forth. I can’t wait to get to Mexico and begin working. Nothing to write today. I got up, did laundry. I’m packing now. I guess this is it. What a great time I’ve had. I loved my branch (#60). I’ve had some great experiences, but now it’s over. Time marches ever onward. I’ve grown. I wonder what the future will bring.

Extracts from a Letter to my Parents “Well, it finally happened. I’m finally going to Mexico. I guess it could have been worse; we were only delayed nine days. But they were a long nine days. They threw the entire holdover group together, evicted us from our apartment, and shoved into a tiny dorm on the far side of the MTC. However, during this time, we’ve watched five church movies in Spanish, including “Johnny Lingo.” “In a matter of hours I’ll be talking to real life Mexicans, trying to help them, serve them, bring them to Christ. I hope my Spanish is going to be adequate. I hope that I can be unafraid and open my mouth—speak to everyone! This week I finished reading the New Testament. It was pretty cool, but very confusing. I am so thankful for modern revelation and living prophets. I am excited about sharing this message with everyone. “It’s probably a good thing that you won’t see me in the airport, since I’ve gained ten or fifteen pounds in the last two months. I hope some of that will be worked off when I start walking ten miles a day in the hot Mexican sun. If not, I’ll come home fat and overweight. I think it’s mainly a combination of the heavy, allyou-can-eat cafeteria food, and sitting down for twelve hours a day. Even the best of us would put on a few pounds.

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“I saw John Harris briefly on Saturday. He’s going to the Philippines. I’ve never liked the guy before. I would always see him laughing, swearing, and carrying on in High School. I think he’s really changed in the last year, or else I have. I was able to speak to him cordially and enjoy the conversation. He’s a good guy. Anyways, I’ve run out of things to say. I’ll write again from Mexico.” Wednesday, August 14, 1996 Well, I’m finally here in Mexico. Last night, I didn’t get to sleep until midnight, and woke up at 2:00 am. It’s hard to believe that it’s all part of the same day. We left the MTC at 3:30, and arrived at the Salt Lake Airport at 4:30. We checked in and took off for Phoenix at 7:10. It was nice to meet Callister’s family. His parents and his younger sister drove down from Boise to see him off at the airport. It was nice to meet them, and since they had lived in Hawaii for over ten years, his sister had made us each a lei made of candy. They are good people. We landed in Phoenix an hour and a half later. It’s a very brown city, even the green parts are brown. Fister’s family was waiting for us at the gate. They had driven the whole night from the Los Angeles area just to be able to spend two hours with him at the Phoenix airport. Fister and Felley went with them, the rest of us split into separate groups. I went to Cinnabon’s and had a quick breakfast, and then called home. My parents were in Peru, but I spoke with my brother, Grant. He passed on the good news that his lawyer had gotten his felony charges dropped in exchange for a tremendous amount of community service. We were all back at the gate an hour before take off, and a stewardess from our flight came and talked with us. She was a member of the Church and remembered the time two years ago when President and Sister Goodman had flown to Tampico. She had been very helpful with their handicapped son, and sent her greeting to them through us. We left Phoenix at 10:40 and flew to Mexico City. I slept for most of the flight. We flew in over Mexico City. It’s a very strange city, all bunched together and streets going every which way. It’s very different from the states. Some men from the Church Travel Office met us at the gate and took us through Customs and Immigrations. As Travel Leader, this was the part of the journey that had me up late nights worrying. I did not know how I would get us through all the paper work and bureaucracy with our limited Spanish abilities. However, when we saw these two men in dark suits and black nametags, I breathed a huge sigh of relief. They even spoke fluent English. We had to bribe the immigration official with some candy. I don’t think it was a bribe so much as it was an inducement to get us through the paperwork quickly. I parted with a package of Starbursts. I didn’t like the Mexico City airport; it was crowded and lacked organization. One of the two men who met us at the airport had to return to the gates to lead another group of American missionaries through Customs and Immigrations. He placed us in the care of his partner, who took us to baggage claim and then to the Mexicana ticket counter. We checked our baggage and then 55

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the man took us aside and claimed that our baggage was too heavy, and that we would have to pay an extra luggage fee. He wanted us to pay it directly to him. With no other recourse, we all forked out one hundred and thirteen pesos, and he walked back over to the ticket counter. We assumed that he paid the fee, but we all had a sneaky suspicion that the whole thing was a bogus ploy to extort some extra money out of naïve Americans like ourselves. Elder Watkins and I had a great conversation with Alejandra. She runs the food shop where we ate, and we gave her a Book of Mormon. We ate lunch, and I even translated for a young American tourist who was also eating there. However, when it came time to try and present her with our message, both Watkins and I ended up being so tongue-tied that the only point we were sure she understood was that the book she was receiving from these strange Americans was “muy importante.” She kept nodding and smiling as Elder Watkins and I returned to the group of hard plastic seats where the rest of the district was waiting. I hope she read the book. After lunch, I faced another moment that I had been fearing. I took my leave of the district, and went in search of the bathrooms. They were not nearly as bad as I had imagined they were going to be, though the faucets confused me momentarily. We left for Tampico. Flying in at sunset provided us with a breathtaking vista. Tampico is surrounded by many lagoons and lakes, located as it is on the Gulf of Mexico. As we flew over those many bodies of water, the sun of a dying day struck them at an oblique angle and transformed them into glowing pools of sunlight. Sister Goodman later told us that most elders fly in at night, and so we were blessed to see that beautiful sight. A stake president from Tampico was on our flight, and he made contact with us as we walked down the jet way. He was very helpful and escorted us to the baggage claim. The Tampico Airport is very small. It only has four gates and one baggage claim. It was cool. We met President Goodman and his wife. They are good people. The Assistants to the President were waiting there as well, Elder Boone and Elder Sandoval. They were the first to inform us that area rules dictated that every American elder was to serve with a Mexican companion. The unique odor of salt and fish and humidity first hit us as we left the airconditioned airport and walked across the parking lot. I asked Elder Boone, “Do you ever get used to the smell?” I guess he answered my question when he replied, “What smell?” We loaded our luggage into the VW bus that the AP's drove, and pulled out of the Airport parking lot, where we saw a billboard with a single word on it: “Bimbo.” We laughed as Elder Boone explained that Bimbo was the major bread company in Mexico. The Assistants to the President drove us to a supermarket called Chedraui, where we purchased bed sheets and plastic sandals. One of Sister Goodman’s cardinal rules forbade showering in bare feet. We then dropped off our luggage at the mission offices. The offices were on the crest of a hill overlooking the Madero Stake Center. The church building itself was on Ejercito Mexicano, a major arterial that ran between Tampico, where the Mission Home was located, and its sister

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city of Madero, where the offices were. Going two blocks east from the offices would take you to Chedraui, and going one block west would take you across the border into Tampico and, after going two blocks south, to the bus terminal. As we drove the short distance to the offices, the APs saw two elders walking by. They honked, waved, and told us their names. This simple act filled me with a joy that was hard to understand at the time. I explained it later in this journal entry as a feeling of team unity. After unloading the van at the offices, we drove to the Mission Home, which was located a mile and a half away in Tampico. On the way there, we passed a number of smaller side streets, unpaved and narrow. On a couple of them I noticed chickens roaming free. I pointed, and in childlike glee, shouted, “Chickens!” The AP’s laughed at my naiveté. We thus arrived at the Goodman’s home and they fed us a spaghetti dinner. He has five kids, two of them living at home, one is mentally handicapped. I say again, they are good people. Before and after dinner, President Goodman interviewed half of us, promising that the other half would be interviewed the following morning. As the Prez was thus engaged, and Sister Goodman was occupied in the kitchen, Elder Felley examined the hardwood floor in the living room and determined that it would be perfect for a backspin. He leaped from the couch, looked around furtively, and proceeded to prove his theory. It’s very hot and humid here. I’m dying. However, I love it. What I’ve seen so far is very run-down and poor, but the people are awesome. I was getting depressed and homesick, and then I met Alejandra, in the Mexico City Airport. It was a great experience giving her that Book of Mormon. The land is different; the people are different. I can’t wait to learn to love them both. I also like the feeling of team unity. All of us, we’re here for a purpose. We’re going to bring the truth to the people of this city. We’re a team. Tomorrow I’ll get my first companion and first area. After dinner, we returned to the Mission Offices where we spent the night. The Office Elders threw a bunch of mattresses on the floor, and we bedded down for the evening. I pulled my journal out and added this one last postscript. I’ve suddenly changed my mind. It’s hot, humid, dirty, smelly, and I have a headache. I want to go home, but know this is where I’m supposed to be.

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Elder Felley alleviated our boredom by being a goof-ball

Elders Taylor and Stauffer Studying together in our MTC apartment

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