04--building The Kingdom

Chapter Four Building the Kingdom

I sat on a bench in the Plaza Principal, watching Ciudad Juarez wake up. My backpack was on the bench beside me, and I was chewing on a concha, a delicious Mexican pastry that I had sorely missed during the last year. After having been away for so long, it felt wonderful to be surrounded once again by the sights and sounds and smells of Mexico. I knew, though, that I had yet to cross many more miles before I reached the boundaries of the Mexico Tampico Mission. I explored the city for an hour, wandering through neighborhoods and commercial centers. Before I could get myself thoroughly lost, I located a street where I had noted passing micros with the word “Central” printed prominently on the side. I waited, hailed a passing micro, and paid the two-and-a-half-peso fare. Fifteen minutes later, I arrived at Juarez’s clean and modern bus station. As I walked into the station, I passed two Mormon missionaries. I hailed the elders, and we talked for several minutes. I told them of the purpose of my pilgrimage, and they wished me luck in my quest. I asked about the missionary work in Juarez, exchanged additional pleasantries, and then parted. To me, it seemed a fortuitous omen of good things to come, and it reminded me once again of how I too had worked to build the Kingdom of God in Mexico. Juarez’s bus station was large and noisy building, with ticket counters lining the perimeter, and banks of hard plastic chairs scattered throughout the center. I quickly found the proper ticket counter and paid for my passage to Chihuahua. I waited in the uncomfortable plastic chairs of the terminal for forty-five minutes before boarding the TransPais luxury bus. As we traveled south, my excitement began to calm as the landscape turned brown and sere, filled with saguaro and sagebrush. I turned my attention to the novel I had brought, and anxiously awaited my arrival in Chihuahua. When the bus finally pulled into the city station at 2:00, I grabbed my belongings and checked the TransPais schedule. I knew that I need to travel to Torreon, Saltillo, and

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Monterrey before crossing the borders into the Mexico Tampico Mission. I was surprised and delighted to note that TransPais had an overnight bus that would take me directly to Monterrey, without any layovers in the intervening cities. However, the bus did not depart for another four hours. I bought a ticket and contemplated my next move. Having enjoyed my aimless wanderings in Juarez, I decided to do the same in Chihuahua. I struck out into the sweltering streets of this northern Mexican city and quickly got myself lost. Unpanicked, I sat under an overpass and ate a can of ravioli and some beef jerky. With a belly full of food, I picked myself up and continued my explorations. I soon found myself in a residential area with small homes and a quaint park. I popped into a corner store, and asked the proprietor for directions back to the bus station. Luckily, a micro route passed near the store and took me to my destination. I returned from my misadventure and discovered that TransPais maintained a private waiting area in the Chihuahua bus station. This area was air-conditioned, offered clean bathrooms, and had comfortable sofas. This was in stark contrast to the hot and noisy and uncomfortable general waiting area. Taking advantage of my lavish surroundings, I used the restrooms to change out of my old clothes, splash some water on my face, and put on some clean clothes. At 6:00 that evening, I boarded the east-bound bus. The sun began its westerly descent as I began my easterly journey to Monterrey. The trip had been long; I had been on the road for twenty-four hours and I had another twelve hours in front of me before I could sleep in a proper bed or take a proper shower. I sat in the plush and spacious seats provided by the luxury liner bus, and drifted into a pleasant dream of things to come. I longed to traverse the cow pastures in Huejutla and climb the hills of Rojo Lugo. I dreamt of standing on the banks of the Rio Panuco and walking the sands of Playa Miramar. And despite the hard times I had faced there, I even looked forward to walking the streets of Soto la Marina once more. It was there that I had learned many of life’s most important lessons. It was there that I had put forth my first efforts, small though they were, to build the Kingdom of God.

Tuesday, September 24, 1996 We woke up at 4:00 a.m., with the hopes of being in Tampico by 8:00. That didn’t work out and we arrived at 10:00. I was only in Tampico briefly, long enough to pick up my new companion and hop on a bus that was northward bound. My new companion is Elder Hoover, from Chiapas in southern Mexico. His paternal grandfather was from Germany, and hence his very un-Mexican last name. Elder Hoover was a jovial missionary, always laughing and smiling. He had a dark complexion and a large Mayan nose. His hair, which he kept trimmed in a short flattop, was dark and bristly. I’m very impressed with him already. The first thing he did upon arriving in Soto la Marina was to clean up our messy apartment. It feels so much nicer now. We went to meet investigators and members tonight. It was good. I hope I can help to make this companionship work. Our area was transferred to a different district in a zone in Ciudad Victoria. This new arrangement made more sense than the old one. Ciudad Victoria was only two hours from Soto, as compared to the four hours we had 92

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been traveling to Tampico. Unfortunately, there were no luxury liners that plied the road between these two cities, so my days of movie watching were over. I think this change was made in anticipation of the day, about a year later, when the Soto and Abasolo branches would become part of the Victoria Stake. When I served in Soto la Marina, the branch was still under direct supervision of the mission offices. I received three letters—from dad, Grant, and Blake. All made me sigh. I love them. Several times throughout the day, my Spanish came easily, fluently—when I was talking to the bus ticket guy, or when I met my new companion. It was great. Wednesday, September 25, 1996 Today has been one of the best days of my mission. We traveled to Victoria, had a zone meeting, saw hundreds of migrating butterflies, went shopping, drove through beautiful forested hills, made street contacts, showed up at a no-show but talked to the neighbors instead, and my Spanish is only getting better. I am truly happy, but extremely tired. I think I’ll go to bed now. I was very impressed with Victoria; what I saw of it during my visit was neat, clean, and orderly— a sharp contrast to what my limited experiences in Tampico had exposed me to. Zona Victoria had been split to make room for us, and the zone leader over our half was Elder Allen. We had a zone meeting with the other missionaries, which included Elder Allen and his companion, along with two other companionships. I was a little apprehensive about going to an unknown city and trying to navigate the strange new streets, but Elder Hoover had spent his greenie months in Victoria and knew all the bus routes and chapel locations. After the zone meeting, when we left the chapel, the air was filled with butterflies, and they took my breath away. We went shopping in a large, modern supermarket, and then headed home. The road between Victoria and Soto was rural and rustic and not welltraveled. Since we had made the morning trip in the predawn hours, this was my first chance to see the countryside. Soto is near the ocean, and Victoria is located in the highlands of the Sierra Madres. Thus, the road between the two took us through the foothills of these majestic mountains. The vegetation was often short, scrubby, and woody plants, but they were very green. A Mexico guidebook describes the region as “arid tropical.” Between the trees, I could sometimes catch glimpses of solitary homesteads or small villages. It was amazingly beautiful. The previous day, we had searched all over for a branch directory, but all we could find was a list of names without addresses. Upon returning home this evening, we spotted an envelope that I had thrown in the trash yesterday. Inside the envelope was the list of names and addresses that we needed. Shortly thereafter, we went to work on the streets of Soto la Marina. I admired my new companion and by the end of the day, I could draw only one conclusion. Elder Hoover rocks!

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Thursday, September 26, 1996 Another wonderful day today, even though it was spent introducing Elder Hoover to the Soto branch, and vice versa. I enjoyed a pleasant moments on the bridge watching turtles swim, and at Lozano’s house watching the lunar eclipse. All this time I had been crossing the bridge and had always looked out over the water, instead of down at it. Elder Hoover, who was a lover of animals, spotted the swimming turtles on his first trip over the bridge. He came to love Soto with an untempered fascination for its rural beauties. Some days he would try to hit the turtles in the river with dropped pebbles, or try to entice a goat with some grass. We were stopped on the street today by a drunk guy on a bicycle. He told us he was a member, but his brother wasn’t. He directed us to his brother’s house, Abraham, and what do you know? He is an investigator/contact that I would have otherwise lost or forgotten. We taught Lozano the first half of the second discussion, but ran out of daylight. We will return. That was always a danger when working in the rural areas. No one had electricity, which made teaching charlas at night a bit difficult. However, we spent the rest of the visit building relationships of trust, talking, and watching the lunar eclipse. We made an appointment with exinvestigators in north Soto. All in all, it’s been a long day, but again, one of the best. I love my new companion, and I hope it lasts. We’re still in the “honeymoon” stage. Elder Hoover likes to laugh and have fun, but works hard. Friday, September 27, 1996 Today I finally committed an investigator to baptism. Actually, my companion did it. But this is a miracle because we are finally doing our jobs. All this time in Soto la Marina, and this was the first time I had extended the baptismal invitation to an investigator. Small wonder, then, that I was feeling unnaturally euphoric. We taught an investigator in Barrio Blanco the second charla and committed her to baptism. Her name is Anna. She took the first charla a while ago from Elder Lopez and I. Also, we made an appointment with Elida, a young woman who we have seen and talked with on various occasions. We spent some time with Edelmira tonight. Life is very difficult for her right now. I certainly hope things start looking up. Shortly after Elder Hoover arrived, I found a small white recorder in my bedroom. I had never seen the musical instrument before, though I assumed it had belonged to one of Elder Lopez’s previous companions. I kept it for myself, pulling it out of my suitcase from time to time, trying to teach myself how to play it. I was never able to master it, and gave it away at a Christmas gift exchange a year and a half later.

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Saturday, September 28, 1996 Today went fairly smoothly. It rained last night, so there was a lot of mud. We visited families in Barrio Blanco, and you can guess how fun the mud was. In the afternoon, we tried to use the branch directory to find less-actives, but couldn’t find a one. It’s so frustrating. This time I was frustrated by a lack of success instead of a lack of trying. It was a much better feeling than the frustration of the previous month and a half. Our appointment in north Soto fell through; we’ll return on Tuesday. We had lots of fun walking down dark, muddy, streets. People without electricity tend to go to bed when the daylight runs out. I wonder what we’ll do in the winter. The day was cool and refreshing. It felt like autumn! Sunday, September 29, 1996 We had more members in attendance in Abasolo than we did in Soto. Sixteen as opposed to ten. It was absolutely awesome! We went to the Soto chapel this morning, and upon arriving there, we realized we had no bread or water for the sacrament. We had fifteen minutes to run back to the house and get bread and agua, and then run back. As we were jogging down the street, a Mexican called out, “The Mormons are running from the devil.” I had to smile; after all, it was funny. For some reason, it reminded me of my father’s mission stories. I gave a talk today on faith and I think it went fairly smoothly. In Abasolo, we again met with the saints, sixteen of them. A whole family walked in as we were about to start—less actives, I suppose. This was the family of Hermano Guerrero, our second counselor in the branch presidency. I stood in front of them and gave my talk on faith and was encouraged by nods and smiles from the congregation. From my experience, this is typically Mexican. At the end, I departed completely from my text, and shared some feelings about my mission. I think it was what my father meant in being a “warm speaker.” We traveled home and had companionship inventory, which Elder Lopez and I rarely did. In Spanish we called it “Dialogo de Acuerdo.” It’s a chance to review the week’s events and make goals for the coming week. Having done this, I know how many contacts I need to make daily, how many charlas to give, and so forth. Sometimes focusing on numbers is good because it lets you focus on the work and work hard. I like it. Tomorrow I’m going to make fifteen contacts. Surely I will do it, for the Lord is with me; therefore, I will give Him the glory. Monday, September 30, 1996 Again, while talking with Lozano, the Spanish flowed. But there seems to be more than that. I was filled with the spirit. I bore testimony, I invited, I made arrangements to verify. Not because that’s what they taught us to do in the MTC, although they did, but because I love Lozano. I can’t wait to drop by tomorrow and see how things went. I would never have been able to do this with Elder

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Lopez. He rarely included me on the planning process. Elder Hoover lets me be part of the planning process, and I need to be doing a bit more to pull my weight. It’s just that I’m so scared of people. I need to trust in the Lord, but am afraid to make that initial step into the unknown—that leap of faith, so to speak. Tomorrow, we are spending the whole morning contacting. Perhaps this will help me to overcome my fears.

Extracts from a Letter to my Parents “A strange thing happened this week. For whatever reason, my Spanish took a huge jump forward. It had been going so slow, but then all of a sudden this week, it surged forward. I almost wish it hadn’t, because now I’m beginning to understand some of the obstacles that stand in the way of our investigators desire to be baptized. “For example—Yamili. If she gets baptized she’ll be kicked out of the Catholic school she attends. Or Estela. She’s not married to the guy she’s living with. Or Edelmira who has severe financial difficulties. I can’t believe that the Lord expects 19-20 year old children to solve these problems. I know I can’t do it on my own; I’ll need His help.” Tuesday, October 1, 1996 We made twenty contacts today. Well, actually, it was more Elder Hoover than I. We spent a very pleasant moment with a new family, on the banks of the river, thick forests on all sides, father and son mending fishing nets, mother and two kids swimming or bathing nearby, two dogs romping and playing, and a pig trying to figure out what was going on. I loved it. This family lived on the east side of Soto, down the road from Hermana Juana. The mother of the family was likewise named Juana. Her home was on the same high bluff on which the first Juana’s house was built, but Juana II lived further from the highway. When standing in their front yard we could see nothing around us but thick forest; a deep feeling of isolation crept over us. The highway was only a ten-minute walk to the east, but it felt much further away. We followed Juana down a path, through the thick forest, and she led us to the banks of the Rio Soto la Marina. Here, we talked with her husband, who was mending his fishing nets with his eldest son. His wooden canoe sat on the banks nearby. We were joined by the other kids, and they went to bathe and swim. Two dogs came down the path and started playing with the nets, and a pig joined soon after. (I think every Mexican family owns a pig). The picture of family unity and togetherness was idyllic and peaceful. Before leaving, we made an appointment to return and teach them the first charla. I wish I was a super-missionary, and I always thought I would be. But I’m not. I miss family, friends, home, school; I’m scared of people, and it seems like none of my strong points translate into Spanish. That is, I can’t seem to get a grasp on Spanish scriptures like I can with English. I want to be a good missionary, I want to bring souls unto Christ.

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As I sat pondering my insecurities, the spirit whispered to me. I added this final postscript later. I was just directed by the spirit to read an old letter from Darren. Therein I found my answers. I then prayed, and read a hymn, both of which had more answers. I know what I must do and tomorrow I will do it. I cannot remember what answers I found in that letter that night, but I imagine it was advice on losing myself in the work. Wednesday, October 2, 1996 In a moment of despair, wondering if we were doing something worthwhile here in Soto la Marina, we were called on to give a blessing to Lozano’s wife. Of course, Lozano was absolutely sloshed at the time. It was an interesting experience, giving a blessing with the stench of alcohol in my nose. I also had a pleasant moment making a contact in the rain. She was burning her garbage. In parts of the city where garbage collection services did not come, or where the costs of such were prohibitive, people often burned their garbage. This day was kind of drizzly and overcast, and I have always loved such days. Contacting this woman on such a day made me feel like a real missionary. Don’t quite know why I liked it so much, just that it felt good. The conference in Victoria tomorrow was cancelled. I don’t know how we’re going to receive our quincena this week. As mentioned earlier, there was no branch of the Bancomer bank in Soto, and so we had to travel to one of the large cities to get our living allowance. This week we did not go to Victoria for a zone meeting because the plan was to go on Thursday for a conference. This didn’t work out and we were left in Soto with no quincena for the week. It will all work out somehow. Thursday, October 3, 1996 Today I felt an increase of faith, a realization that I do believe in what I am doing. We made ten contacts today, one of which was while two chickens were fighting in the street. It was rather sad. After growing bored of the game, the youths who had instigated the fight tied the legs of the white rooster and allowed the other to peck him to death. The white one died. It’s been raining everyday since Saturday and the mud is horrendous. I think it’s a characteristic of Soto that I’ll remember for the rest of my life. I think I’ve walked through every kind of mud that exists—slimy, sticky, wet, dry, squishy, firm, rocky, watery, slippery, and camouflaged. I saw a one-legged kid riding a bike—it was sad. It was also rather fascinating the way the kid was able to use a device built for the two-legged people of the world. He would use the momentum of each one-legged stroke to move the pedal back to the top of its circle, and once again push down on the peddle. I stared after him, in grotesque amazement, as he disappeared down the street.

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We crossed the canal without a bridge. The canal here was really a narrow ravine filled with sewage and waste that flowed down into the river. It was quite stinky, and while crossing it, images danced through my head, images of me slipping, falling, stepping into these black waters. We read Moroni 10 with Lozano, and then took shelter from the rain in a log hut with grass roofing. The hut mentioned here belonged to a new family whom we contacted and to whom we soon began teaching the charlas. It was my first time weathering out a storm in a thatched-roof house, and I was surprised that there was no leakage. All in all, I felt a kind of homey coziness in the experience. Friday, October 4, 1996 I turned a metaphorical corner today in my feelings and attitude about missionary work. This IS the work of the Lord. I AM his servant here in Soto la Marina. The missionary program is not just a social program of the church; it is the latter-day gathering of scattered Israel. I finally realized in full that the Lord was truly on my side. He really wanted the work to succeed. He didn’t just want to put me through trials and tribulations to make me grow, even though that was a part of the program. It was all about preaching the gospel of Christ, and He would make it succeed. It was a profound yet simple revelation for me. I still have a lot of fire and faith that has been lost that I need to regain. Where do I look for it? In the same place I found it the first time, of course—on my knees. And then, I need to take my fire and faith one step further. I taught a powerful first charla to a family today. The mother seemed receptive, but the grandmother remained skeptical. This was the family who had given us shelter from the storm the day before. Evangelina was the mother’s name, and the grandmother was a Guadalupe. We invited Hermana Sara to prepare references. I know God loves me still, despite my weaknesses. That morning the mission financial secretary deposited our quincena into the branch’s bank account in Banamex. This was the only bank in Soto, so we were thus finally able to receive our weekly living expense. Money had been tight, but I had recently received some cash from my parents, which sustained us during the few days when we had no official funds. Saturday, October 5, 1996 I talked with and understood Hermana Sara’s husband this evening. It was great. Also, we were stopped on the street by a young woman today. She is a member of the Church, recently moved to Soto. She wanted to know when and where sacrament meeting is. It’s not just a coincidence that we were in the right place at the right time to help this sister. Five minutes earlier or later, and she would have been lost. What a miracle! I can’t believe I’ve been away from home for four months now. Today, in Salt Lake City, general conference started. I bet Suzie and Ady were in

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attendance. I wish I could have been. But, hey, I taught a family of seven the first charla. The kids were rowdy, but turned calm when we introduced the Book of Mormon. This was Juana and her family, who lived on the banks of the Rio Soto la Marina. It was an odd experience teaching this discussion, seated as we were next to her shrine to the Virgin de Guadalupe. Sunday, October 6, 1996 Today was rather uneventful. We met with both branches again, Soto la Marina and Abasolo. Testimony meeting was fairly good in ‘Solo, but no one besides Elder Hoover and I bore testimonies in Soto la Marina. As today was fast Sunday, I fasted to find my forgotten fire and faith (nice alliteration, eh?). I think I am beginning to find it through study of Gospel Principles along with the scriptures. I think that I had the greatest amount of fire and faith when I was learning, growing, developing. If I can again learn, grow, and develop, so likewise will my testimony. As such, I have asked my parents to send me my copies of Mormon Doctrine and We Believe so that I can continue to study the gospel and develop my love for it. “The glory of God is intelligence.” I am continuing my reading of the scriptures and am in First Samuel in the Old Testament, Mosiah 29 in the English Book of Mormon, Alma 21 in the Spanish Book of Mormon, and Section 88 of the Doctrine and Covenants. Reading the scriptures is a high point in my day. I’ve also begun to reread the Bible Dictionary at a page per night. It’s coming along fine. I love my life in Soto la Marina. It’s very different from my old life, and both seem to me unreal. The language is coming along fine, and I’m even beginning to think in Spanish, sometime with Spanish constructions: I wonder “how many years he has” versus I wonder “how old he is.” Even so, there is much that leaves me in the dark. These truly are golden years in my life. Seeing how precious my memories are of BYU, even the simple moments, makes me treasure and cherish each day here. Monday, October 7, 1996 Tonight we had a Family Home Evening with Edelmira’s family—herself, five children, two grandchildren, her sister, and her sister’s two children. I can’t believe how much I love this family. I want them so much to receive the blessings that the gospel can bring them. I want to know what I can do to bring them closer to Christ and His Kingdom. We spent some time with Lionel and Viki’s family. We visited them towards the end of the evening, sometime after sunset. We talked with them, and since my Spanish had improved quite a bit since my first day in Soto, I was able to participate in the joviality. I learned why I could not understand Lionel when I first met him; he was from El Salvador, and as such, spoke with a Salvadorian accent, which was hard for me to decipher at first. I played with the children this

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evening, and we learned that Viki was expecting yet another child. It was a great moment. We walked home under the stars in Barrio Blanco, and I sang “If You Could Hie to Kolob.” One of my hobbies during those first months was memorizing hymns, and this was one of the ones I had committed to memory. I sang it in alto voce, in English, and I don’t know what Elder Hoover thought of my over enthusiastic off-key singing. However, he was in no position to judge, since he had his share of inane idiosyncrasies. No matter. I have mucho ánimo.

Extracts from a Letter to my Parents “We worked hard, did a lot of contacting, and taught a few first discussions, and knocked on a lot of doors. That last is a figure of speech, because in Soto, you stand outside the gate and yell “Buenos Tardes.” There really isn’t any door knocking involved. Thus, Tuesday morning, I had my first experience with this type of work. “We went to the eastern part of town, Colonia Juventud Revolucionaria. Our first house rejected us. They said they were strong Catholics. However, we then crossed the canal and climbed a muddy hill. (It’s been raining every day for the last week and a half. Guess what happens to a dusty little Mexican town during the rainy season. It becomes a muddy little Mexican town. But, I digress). There we met Maria de Consuelo and her one-eyed father, Asuncion. We taught them the first charla, made an appointment to return, and when we did, they didn’t have any time to listen. We’ll try again this week. “We also made contact with Miguel, a fifteen-year-old neighbor of Hermana Sara. The three of us sat down, roughly in a circle, and began the charla. It was rather pleasant. We were sitting under a tree, talking about Jesus Christ, when into the middle of our circle dropped a bird turd. It was actually rather humorous. “So, anyways, my life is great. Elder Hoover is a good missionary, even though he likes to sing at the top of his lungs when I’m trying to study. This really isn’t a problem though, because Elder Hoover is just such a happy and fun-loving person. I know he’s not trying to be annoying. I like working with him; he’s a hard worker and a faithful servant of God. He also likes to Bible-bash with Jehovah’s Witnesses. I think adjusting to life with a companion was one of the hardest adjustments I had to make, and I’m still struggling with it.” Tuesday, October 8, 1996 Satan was out in force today in Soto la Marina, but I think we scored a victory or two for the good guys. We discovered today that Lety and Juana, two of Elder Lopez’s baptisms from his time with Elder Wright, have been attending another church. That was quite a blow. Then we met Guadalupe, a hard-hearted man who clung tenaciously to his own interpretation of the Bible and wouldn’t even open his heart a little. Throughout my mission I would meet this character type often. I took to using the name Guadalupe as a descriptive title to designate all those people I met who rejected our message without even hearing it.

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In the afternoon, we met again with Evangelina. We talked about her reading (she actually read what we asked her to!) and about her doubts. Then when we talked with Nancy, Edelmira’s sister; there were screaming kids everywhere. I had to start the account of the First Vision four times because of distractions. Needless to say, the spirit was not present. Instead we made a return appointment. Nancy lived three blocks away from Edelmira, and we hoped that we would make more progress with her than we had with her sister. If Nancy got baptized, perhaps Edelmira and her family would follow soon after. Wednesday, October 9, 1996 Today, we taught the second charla to Evangelina, and she and her motherin-law, Maria Guadalupe, committed to baptism on the 20th. The stake president of the Tampico Stake and the director of institute in Tampico came up to Soto today to talk to Sara about seminary. We spent an hour and a half at her house. I may not have accomplished much in Soto la Marina, but this much I did bring to pass. I was part of the first seminary program in that part of the world, and I know it changed the lives of the two people it touched, Sara and Eric. And who knows how far it has spread now, who knows how many lives have been touched by the seminary program that Elder Lopez and I put into place in Soto la Marina. I played a game of soccer with some Mexican kids. I lost 3-0. In the evening, on our way home, we stopped by the home of some non-members who were friends of ours, and borrowed an iron from them. Before we went to bed that evening, Elder Lopez and I ironed our shirts. To be honest, this was the first time I had ever ironed anything in my life, and I burned myself on the hot surface. At least I went to Victoria the following day looking well-pressed and wellgroomed. Thursday, October 10, 1996 We went to the conference in Victoria today. Both Elders Stauffer and Fister from my MTC district were in attendance at this conference. It was great to see them both again. Elder Fister, who had been in Zona Bosque with me, accused me of following him to Victoria. He had gotten transferred after the first cycle, the same transfer that brought Elder Hoover to Soto la Marina. As far as I know, he was the only Elder from MTC district 60-B to be transferred that day. The circumstances of his transfer frightened me. President Goodman pulled both elders out of an area in Victoria that had been sluggish, and put in two new missionaries, one of which was Elder Fister. The theory was that two new elders could revitalize a poorly performing area. The idea that such could happen to me someday crossed my mind and I prayed that I would never receive a transfer like Elder Fister’s. It happened to me five times. The conference was long, with two five-minute breaks and one half-hour leg-stretcher to break up the many talks that peppered the day. Afterwards, President Goodman and I had a heartfelt talk. He had received my letter from

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some weeks previous and felt that we needed to talk. President Goodman spent some time teaching me about the power of the atonement and assuring me that I was worthy to serve as a missionary. I walked out of that room feeling lighter and freer than I ever have before. My appreciation for the Savior has grown one hundredfold. I know now that He really is carrying the burden of my sin, sorrow, and guilt. The Atonement is a very real thing that has very real effects on our lives. When I walked out of the chapel doors, after having talked with President Goodman, I understood more fully that Jesus Christ had taken my sins upon Himself, and that I could press forward with my mission knowing that the weight of those sins would not hold me down. They had been bought and paid for by my Savior and Redeemer. Most of all, I finally understood that the Atonement allowed me to forgive myself, and to love myself. I no longer feared that past transgressions would keep me from achieving my fullest potential as a missionary. Hermana Goodman fed us Kentucky Fried Chicken today, and it was absolutely dreamy. All the other elders in Zona Victoria had lunch appointments to go to. Elder Hoover and I, on the other hand, had only a two hour bus ride and cold cereal to look forward to. Feeling compassion for us, Sister Goodman arranged for us to be fed with some good ole American fast food. On the walk from the bus station home, a bird pooped on my arm. I had taken my suit jacket off, so the poo did not stain my clothes. Elder Hoover, however, was not so fortunate. In retrospect, walking under the trees was not such a bright idea. These were the same birds whose beauty I had lauded only a few weeks earlier. It’s been a wonderful day. I don’t think it could have been better. The new AP is Elder Lingard, a friend of my former college roommate Weston. My first American AP, Elder Boone, had gone home during the last transfers. Friday, October 11, 1996 I got hit with a migraine today that absolutely knocked me off my feet. I’ve had frequent migraines throughout my life, and often the only real cure for them is a long nap in a dark room. As such, we didn’t get much done in the morning. I popped an aspirin and took a nap; Elder Hoover studied and cleaned. In the afternoon, we went to teach Evangelina the third charla. Her mother-in-law has decided for the both of them that they will not be baptized. Ouch! When we were visiting Hermanas Juana and Lety, I gave one of her kids a “vuelta,” that is, swinging him around in the air. All of a sudden, I was surrounded by a dozen neighbor kids, all wanting a turn also. It was rad. I talked with the kids. I especially like the shy, quiet ones. Although some of my companions disagreed, I felt that spending time with children was part of our calling as missionaries. After all, the Master sometimes suspended his teachings to talk with and listen to children. I would often justify my actions to those companions who disagreed with me by saying that it helped to build relationships

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of trust with the parents of the children. “Suffer the little children” is right. I couldn’t get away from them. I taught an English class tonight. Arturo, the eighteen-year-old son of Edelmira, is bright and intelligent. He could go far, if his circumstances had been different. He works every day to support his mother and brothers and sister. Saturday, October 12, 1996 Compared to my other Saturdays in the last four months, this one has been superb. We had a no-show this afternoon, Nancy, the sister of Edelmira. However, she saw us on the street later, called out to us, and told us why she hadn’t come. She asked for us to come back on Monday, and she had read the parts of the Book of Mormon we had asked her to. I gave her the sheet “23 Questions Answered in the Book of Mormon.” Later, we found a less-active family and invited them to church. We used the list that miraculously fell into our hands last month. Life is awesome, but I’m even more tired now than I was a month ago. I hope this gets easier. Sunday, October 13, 1996 Well, another calm, peaceful Sunday. However, something extraordinary happened. In our meetings in Soto la Marina, we had twenty-four people in attendance! This is the most I’ve ever seen here. It was awesome! Of the twentyfour, a third of them were non-members. In Abasolo, it was the same old same old. On taking the sacrament today, I thought of my discussion with President Goodman on Thursday, of the fact that the sacrament means so much more to me now, and felt the spirit strongly. It was just like that time in the temple on my first P-Day in the MTC. I feel better now than at any other time in my life. Life is grand in Soto la Marina, and Elder Hoover says I’ll leave it soon. He keeps saying I’ll be transferred in the beginning of November. He’s probably right, but I don’t want him to be. I want to stay here; I love the people so much. Mayra’s baby is due on the first, and several other sisters are expecting sometime soon. These will be wonderful moments in their lives, and I want to share them with them. But I am here to do the will of the Lord, and I will go where he needs me to go. Monday, October 14, 1996 I’ve got another migraine right now, but to be faithful to my goal of writing in my journal every day of my mission, I’m writing. Today was P-Day and I wrote five letters: to my family, Evan, Rebekah, Darren, and the Andersons. It was a rather slow day. In the evening we visited Edelmira, but my headache kicked in and we came home. It’s frustrating; we’ve lost seven hours in the last week because of my headaches.

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My companion is cooking me some eggs; he’s such a good guy. Elder Hoover was very solicitous of my health. I told him that the only thing that cured a migraine for me was a long nap in a dark room, but he insisted on making me dinner that night. I hope all goes well with his life. Elder Hoover was the only Latter-day Saint in his family, and he had only been baptized four years previously. His parents were separated, and he only received letters from his mother once a month or so. Most of the letters he received were from the friends he made while attending the church-sponsored prep school in Mexico City, Benimerito. The fact that he was always so cheerful and happy was a testament to the power of the gospel and the way he had let it work in his life. I did my laundry by hand again this morning; I’m getting a little bit better at it. And yet, my experiences with hand-laundry in Soto scarred me so terribly that, for the rest of my mission, I bent over backwards, moved heaven and earth, to avoid ever doing laundry by hand again.

Extracts from a Letter to my Parents “We had an FHE with Edelmira’s family and it was absolutely great. This is a wonderful, humble, faithful family, but for one reason or another won’t commit to baptism. They attend church, read the scriptures, and so forth, but won’t take this essential step. I love them and want to see them progress and receive the blessings that can only be found with the waters of baptism. “On a sadder note, we went to visit Miguel on Tuesday. You’ll remember that it was with Miguel with whom we were talking when the bird turd dropped into our discussion. However, Miguel was not home; his father, Guadalupe was. Guadalupe was prepared for us, Bible in hand. All he wanted to do was argue and contend. He just wouldn’t open his heart. He claimed that since Joseph Smith’s name was not in the Bible, he couldn’t be a true prophet. It’s really frustrating. “This theme was played out again on Saturday when we visited Alejandra, a young woman who had taken the discussions six or seven months ago. We invited her to take them again, and she declined, telling us her husband had told her to stop meeting with the missionaries. I wonder if his name was Guadalupe. “We were sent forth to preach the gospel, and everyone needs to accept it. But what happens to those people who would accept but their family members reject it on their behalf? Or what about the people who reject the gospel without even hearing it? Can these people really be held accountable? All of them are good people, they believe and love Christ, they read the Bible, and teach their children to do so also. And yet, for all their love and devotion to Christ, they refuse to accept more of His words. They cling tenaciously to the Bible, limiting God in saying that the heavens are sealed, shut, and silent. They cannot and will not open their hearts to the great truth that our Heavenly Father speaks to all men everywhere, and that scripture is not limited to just the Bible. “Sorry if this has come across a little negative. It’s just that I never imagined the work would be this hard. In my idealistic world, all I would have had to do is share the Book of Mormon, bear testimony, the spirit would testify, and wham! Instant Conversion. It’s not like that at all. I’m saddened by it, not because of the hard work, but because of the hard hearts.

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“Today marks my two-month mark in Mexico. My Spanish is coming along rather well, I think. I am by no means fluent, but I’ve got a foot in the door, so to speak. I am understanding, and sometimes I impress myself when I can speak a whole sentence without having to pause and think about how to conjugate the verb, or where to place the indirect object pronoun, or whatever. And while there is still a lot that goes over my head, I’m beginning to catch more every day.” Tuesday, October 15, 1996 We woke up at 4:00 am and traveled to Victoria for a zone meeting. It only lasted two hours. Afterwards, Elder Allen, my zone leader, sprung a surprise on me. He was going to go back to Soto with my companion to work with him for a day. Apparently Elders Hoover and Allen had been discussing it during the zone meeting, and their Spanish just went over my head. After the meeting, we went to Elder Allen’s house. I looked around, appreciative of the nice place the elders had here in the Big City. I turned around, and Elders Hoover and Allen were heading out the door, saying “see you tomorrow.” The panicked look in my eyes called Elder Allen back, and he explained (in English) what was going on. I had come unprepared, without toiletries or a change of clothes. Needless to say, this journal entry was not written on the day of the happenings, but rather the night after, once I got back safely to Soto la Marina. I was going to stay with my zone leader’s companion, Elder Navarro, and work in Victoria for a day. This was kind of scary because Elder Navarro has had the same amount of time in the field as I. A short, rotund elder with thick glasses, Elder Navarro was a convert from Mexico City. Before being baptized, he had been a very active Jehovah’s Witness, and as such, often had some pretty quirky ways of looking at the gospel and teaching the same. However, we did fairly well. I made my first baptismal invitation, to Don Jose. He answered in the affirmative with tears in his eyes. When Elder Navarro informed me that I would be the one extending the invitation, I wanted to refuse. But I went through with it, my heart in my throat and my stomach doing cartwheels inside of me. It was a long, but satisfying day. I’ve never walked so much in my life. Elders Allen and Navarro had an area that seemed to stretch from one side of Victoria to the other. Having worked in Soto la Marina for two months, I was not used to walking such long distances. At lunchtime, we were so far away from our lunch appointment that Elder Navarro and I hitchhiked to the other side of his area. We ate in a rather poor neighborhood with a humble sister and I was thankful for the meal of lentil soup which she served us. Although it did not fill me up, I knew that it was the best she had to offer, and I ate it graciously. Wednesday, October 16, 1996 We got home from Victoria at 10:30 p.m. and I’m exhausted. It’s been a fairly full day. We met this morning, Elder Navarro and I, with a young student at the university. The school was called the UAT, or the Universitario Autonomo de Tamaulipas, basically Tamaulipas State University. There were campuses of 105

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UAT all over the state, but the largest campus was located on the top of a hill overlooking the city of Victoria. This student didn’t believe Jesus Christ was the Son of God, though he claimed that He was the savior of the world. I grew frustrated with the logical inconsistencies of his religious philosophies. I wanted to scream and fight with him about it, but kept my cool instead. We went knocking on some doors, and I made my first contact on my own. The contacts that I had made with Elder Hoover had been mostly of his doing. I would start the contact, and then Elder Hoover would cut in. He believed he was helping me, so I forgave him. This was my first full contact, beginning to end, on my own. It doesn’t mean that it’s any less scary, but I now know that I can do it. In the afternoon, we visited an investigator, but she was sick. We blessed her house and then gave her a blessing. Her name was Natividad but I remember nothing more about her. Her home was located in a small apartment in the back of a house that was set close to the street. Elder Navarro and I had to pass through a narrow passage on the side of the house in order to get to Natividad’s living quarters. It was fun, and an interesting perspective working in Victoria for a day and a half, but I’m happy to be back in Soto la Marina. The whole experience really boosted my self-confidence. I came home from Victoria with the knowledge that I could be a missionary, I could talk to people, I could invite them to baptism and talk about the gospel with total strangers. I still had a long way to go, but I knew that I would eventually arrive. Thursday, October 17, 1996 I saw the ugliest dog in Mexico, half-bald and three legged. It was sad. We located a member today who had been away from the Church so long that she didn’t know that Gordon B. Hinckley was now prophet. When she was active, Spencer W. Kimball was still acting in his capacity as prophet, seer, and revelator. She was an intelligent and cheerful woman, and we sang her favorite hymn, “Come, Come Ye Saints,” and invited her to church. I hope she’ll come in spite of the twenty-minute walk. Elders Allen and Hoover actually found her while tracting in the north of Soto the day before. Elder Hoover wanted to try working this over-looked portion of our area. Hermana Reyna made us flour tortillas, much better than the more common corn variety. Flour tortillas were harder to come by because the neighborhood tortillerías only made corn tortillas. Flour tortillas were usually made by hand, but they were always worth it. The one thing I miss most about Mexico, even to this day, is the taste of warm, handmade flour tortillas. There was no need to put anything on them, though such was indeed a heavenly bonus. We should have had interviews with President Goodman today, but didn’t. I guess that means I won’t get mail until Tuesday. Oh well. When we were traveling to Tampico every week, we were able to get our mail more frequently. The zone leaders, who went to the office every P-Day, would deliver our mail at

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the end of the zone meeting. When we started traveling to Victoria weekly, mail only came when the President came—at conferences and interviews. Friday, October 18, 1996 We cleaned the chapel this morning, and for some reason the water there had been turned off. I swept and mopped the floors, and so forth. In the afternoon, we taught a first charla to two teenagers. I taught an English class tonight to Maria Reyna, Freddy, Mercedes, Martin, and Nieve. Of the five, only one of them is a member. Freddy, Mercedes, and Martin were the children of Edelmira, and Nieve was a friend of Martin’s who had accompanied him to the class. Hermana Reyna made us flour tortillas again tonight; this time we were able to take them home. I walked past a bar this evening, one of the many in Soto that expressly forbids women and children. I turned my head to look in as we walked past, and immediately looked away. The door was in the style of the old west, only covering half the doorway. Inside, there were several indecent posters on the wall. I was too far away, and I turned my head too quickly, to see any detail. Nevertheless, I saw enough to learn that all eyes should be averted when passing those types of cantinas. Talk about losing the spirit! That’s the last time I do that. Soto la Marina went to bed early. Most nights, we would begin our last appointment just as the sun was disappearing behind the Sierra Madres to the west. We would sit outside, swatting mosquitoes and other assorted bugs, and talking with whichever family was last on our list that night. Most often, it was Hermana Edelmira, though sometimes we would visit Barrio Blanco in the evenings, or Hermana Reyna’s house down by the river. At quarter after nine, we would pack up our belongings, say our good-byes, and wend our way home through the quiet streets of Soto. Streetlights were infrequently spaced, and in the outer colonias, they were absent. Weekend nights were rowdier, as the men took their paychecks home via the closest bar. There was always a feeling of weary victory as we neared our home in the evening. With sore feet, we trudged through the front door, and threw ourselves across our respective beds. On the days when we had accomplished a lot, there was a feeling of tired satisfaction, on other nights, I felt defeated and tired. Life was good in Soto la Marina. Other than that, not a whole lot to the day. I bought a Mayan statue off a drunk Mexican for $20. I had planned on bringing the statue home, but soon learned that taking any type of archaeological find out of the country would have been illegal. Images of me opening my bags at customs, and of the ensuing embarrassment of the church, flashed through my head for the next week or so. In the end I gave the small statue to Elder Hoover.

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Saturday, October 19, 1996 Well, I’ve got another migraine. This time it didn’t hit until we were coming home in the evening, so we didn’t lose any working time. This makes three in the last two weeks. I’m getting sick of it. Today started off fairly tough, and by noon I was ready to write in my journal, “I quit. I can’t do it any more.” I had a hot lunch of lentil soup, for which I had acquired a taste while in Victoria, and was ready to try again. I sang some hymns under the dark and starry sky with Viki’s children. It was a tender moment. This really picked my spirits up. We visited Edelmira this evening. I made several contacts, and so forth. I love Soto la Marina, but I’m ready for a change of pace now. Sunday, October 20, 1996 Another week has passed, and with it another Sabbath. A pretty slow and depressing one, at that. In our sacrament meeting this morning in Soto, we only had five people, two of which were Elder Hoover and myself. Of the other three, one was a member from Abasolo, and one was a five-month-old baby. The baby, Alejandro, was in attendance with his mother, Hermana Sara. When we finally started the meeting, I chose to open with the hymn, “Choose The Right,” which was new to everyone else. Elder Barrett became a music teacher that morning. After the meetings, the member from Abasolo asked to talk to us. He told us that he didn’t have a testimony of Joseph Smith. He wanted our help. Holy monkeys! I’m only nineteen years old; he’s over twice my age, and the Lord wants me to help him through this crisis of faith? I’m learning now how much we really need the Lord in this work. Abasolo meetings went as normal. I gave a talk on journal-keeping. I didn’t talk in Soto because we started half an hour late waiting in vain for more people to show up. In my personal scripture study: in the Old Testament I’m in the tail-end of Second Samuel; in the Spanish Book of Mormon I’m in Alma 45; in the English Book of Mormon I’m in Alma chapter 27; and in Doctrine and Covenants I’m in section 121. I’m also reading A Marvelous Work and a Wonder. It’s my father’s copy, the one he had on his mission. So that’s life. It’s been a long week, at times a very hard week. I hope to receive in the mail on Tuesday a copy of the audio recording of my farewell. If so, I think it may really fire me up and push me onward. If not, I’ll do it myself. Next Sunday is a branch conference in Soto. That will be a lot of fun, unless it gets cancelled. Monday, October 21, 1996 I woke up this morning, read my scriptures, and wrote a letter to my parents and another one to Ryan. I took a short nap, which ended when my

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companion began chasing a mouse with a knife. Elder Hoover’s rodent hunt was more of a one-sided game than it was a bloodthirsty pursuit. We went to the bank, and the barber (Elder Hoover needed a haircut.) The rest of the day was spent doing laundry by hand and then reading A Marvelous Work and a Wonder. Our evening proselyting was fruitless; both our appointments were no-shows. We went to Edelmira’s instead and read Alma 7 with her. We called President Goodman and confirmed the existence of a conference this Sunday. The conference was to be a combined Soto la Marina and Abasolo branch conference, which was held four times per year. I hope he has the presence of mind to bring the mail because Elder Allen said there’s none waiting for us in Victoria. Oh well.

Extracts from a Letter to my Parents “All in all, working for a day in Victoria did a lot for me. Until now, my only perception of the church in Mexico has been of Soto la Marina and Abasolo. In these areas, the church is weak. But, I saw a much stronger church in Victoria. I met the bishop, the elder’s quorum president (only twenty-four years old), and so forth. They have fully organized wards and stakes. “There was one other thing I liked about working in the city: the daily dinner appointments. Well, actually, they are lunch appointments. I was in Victoria for two lunches. Each was with a member. It was great! In Soto we cook our own food (Ramen, mac ‘n’ cheese, cereal, whatever). In Victoria, I had a real meal—beef stew, beans, and flour tortillas, much tastier than the cheaper and more common corn tortillas. “Last night I was looking though my photos of the MTC. I thought to myself, those were some fun times. I miss the MTC. Then I though to myself, what am I saying? I didn’t like the MTC. I was wishing every moment to be in the field. But then the great truth of it all hit me—I don’t remember the bad moments. All I remember now of the MTC are the good parts. I can't think of one specific moment that I hated. I know I didn’t like sitting down for twelve hours a day, but I hardly remember the unpleasantness. “I hope this continues to happen. Soto la Marina has been tough. My first few months have been difficult. Many times I came home thinking I’ve given it my all, and I just can’t do any more. In a few months, I’ll look back and think, boy, those first couple of months were great! And that Elder Lopez, what a great companion he was! I wouldn’t believe it was possible, but in two months, all my bad memories of the MTC have evaporated.” Tuesday, October 22, 1996 I woke up this morning at 4:00 am. I’m really getting tired of doing that. We traveled to Victoria and it was COLD when we got off the bus at 7:30. I loved it. It was also very windy. Elder Hoover and I went to the chapel and an hour later, our zone meeting started. We spent that time, huddled next to the building, hiding from the sharp bite of the cold wind, and waiting for someone with a key to come and let us in. Elders Allen and Navarro showed up on time, 109

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and later Hermanas Perales and Curiel. We started the zone meeting and it was a small one because Elder Cheney was sick. After the meeting we went shopping and I bought donuts. They weren’t exactly American, but they tasted good enough. I ate them in the bus terminal, while we waited for our bus to arrive and carry us back to Soto la Marina. It was a wonderful moment of peace and contentment. While in the store, I heard an instrumental version of “The Sound Of Silence.” Later, on the bus, I heard a Mexicanized “I Swear.” There were two routes that were possible between Soto and Victoria. The most direct, through the foothills of the Sierra Madres, was only plied by the cheapest and most run-down bus company, “Tamaulipecos.” The other route looped up north, and went through Abasolo, before heading south again to Soto. This added an extra hour, but the buses that traveled that route were slightly more modern and comfortable. On this particular evening, as on most evenings, we took the more direct route. We had the very front seat on the right-hand side of the bus, and so as we left Victoria, Elder Hoover and I had an unobstructed view of the road and the terrain ahead. I was captivated once again by the beauty of the landscape, but also by the narrowness of the roads. Every time we passed another vehicle, I winced, certain that we would scrape along side of it. It soon got dark, and while the landscape around me disappeared, I could still see the oncoming headlights of other drivers. Worst of all were the large buses that would, from time to time, emerge from the darkness, rushing at us from the opposite direction. From that time forth, I was content to sit in the back seats and place my faith in the bus drivers, certain that they knew how to navigate these tortuous and narrow roads. We came home and began making preparations for the conference. We invited Hermana Sara to give a talk and fiddled around with the meetinghouse. Good day, all is well. Wednesday, October 23, 1996 We traveled to Abasolo today and visited members there. Using the branch directory, we searched for less-actives and invited them to the conference on Sunday. We found one family of nine who was rather excited about coming, one young woman who claimed that she had never been baptized even though her name was on the records of the Church, and another who had been attending an Evangelical church for five years. I guess I can understand the latter. With only two member families in the whole town, fellowshipping is a bit thin. I like Abasolo. It’s small and quaint, not as poor as Soto la Marina, but still humble. I came to this conclusion after only a single half day of work focused on a ten-block radius around the Guerrero and Pastor homes. We returned home and visited Edelmira. She fed us and I played with the kids—Martin, Marta, Genesis, and Carla. We really weren’t supposed to eat with investigators, but they always enjoyed shoving food down our throats. It was never that hard to convince me, because my nutritional options waiting at home

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were pretty scant. I love this family so darn much! What can I do to move them towards baptism and the celestial kingdom? It’s quite a responsibility for a nineteen-year-old child. Thursday, October 24, 1996 So, there we were. Sitting in a house with a grass roof and only three cinder block walls, talking with Vivian, when she told us, “I don’t want to live anymore.” Holy monkeys! What a load! We did what we could, shared a scripture, and promised to return. We had just taught her family a charla, and they were outside doing afternoon chores, and we were inside packing our bags, preparing to leave. Her house stood all alone in a field outside the west end of Soto la Marina. It consisted of nothing more than three walls of stacked cinder blocks with various materials stretched overhead for roofing. One side was left completely open. I couldn’t help but wonder how the family had fared when Hurricane Dolly swept through the previous month. Although we had contacted Vivian on the street some days ago, Elder Hoover and I were unable to find her house later. On this day, we took a different route into the northern edge of Soto. The route was a narrow footpath that stretched between the walls of a Catholic convent on one side and a wide grassy field on the other. We were traversing the foot path that afternoon when we heard someone hollering at us from a semi-permanent structure standing in the middle of the field to our left. Luck, or something else, led us there today. We visited the Ramirez family in Barrio Blanco, gave a blessing to Lionel’s mother, Leovanda, by the light of the full moon. I wrote my talk for Sunday. It was fun because I had to translate a paragraph from a talk by Ezra Taft Benson. Well, that was my day. Friday, October 25, 1996 We cleaned the chapel this morning and prepared it for Sunday’s conference. We set up some forty chairs in the upstairs part and swept, mopped, and cleaned the rest. The meetinghouse was a two-story building, located a block north of the TransPais offices. The front half of the lower level was an open room where we kept the port-a-font. Upstairs, the back half was an open room, and it was here that we set up the chairs for the conference. We figured forty ought to be more than enough, based on our attendance statistics from the last couple of months. I revised and practiced my talk for Sunday; I like it a lot. I think I’ll use it as my standard text whenever I am called upon to talk over the next two years. In the afternoon we again visited non-members and invited them to the conference. This would be so much easier with telephones. I taught an English class to Hermana Sara’s two kids, Fred and Sergio. They are both very bright and want to serve missions some day. They are still

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young, twelve and ten years old, respectively. I love Hermana Sara’s family so much. Saturday, October 26, 1996 Geez, it’s the end of October and it feels like the middle of summer. I’m tempted to say it’s been the hottest day that I’ve ever experienced. By this time, my skin was a beautiful bronze color. I never wore sunscreen, and in my first couple of weeks, I had turned a pretty shade of bright red. The people we met thought it was hilarious when I told them that I was from Colorado, which means “colored red” in Spanish. In the morning we went contacting and met a guy on the street who turned out to be a less-active member. Naturally, we invited him to the conference. At lunchtime, we bought refreshments for tomorrow’s conference. We carried them home, and by the last few blocks my arms were aching something fierce. I refused my companion’s offer to stop and rest. The ordeal had taken on a strange dimension in my mind, a challenge to prove that I was tough enough to make it in Mexico. I finished the task without breaks. In the afternoon we finished visiting all the members and investigators and invited them to church tomorrow. We stopped and talked to two soldiers this evening. Elder Hoover had served in the army for a year, and so he stopped and talked amicably with a soldier who was patrolling the streets of Soto. I, on the other hand, have an unnatural fear of foreign soldiers with big guns; you can never tell how well trained they are, nor how well disciplined. I just stood there nervously listening to the two of them talk shop, and tried very hard to follow the conversation. If the soldier decided to shoot me, I wanted advanced warning of it. I learned a good lesson—just nod your head and smile, laugh when they laugh, and so forth. This is a good rule of thumb for getting by in a foreign country. Or not. Sunday, October 27, 1996 Today was the conference of the Soto la Marina and Abasolo branches. It went quite well. We had many people in attendance, including several lessactives and investigators. The program went as follows: We sang “Put Your Shoulder To The Wheel” and Hermana Reyna gave the opening prayer. We then heard talks from Sara, Hermano Matilde Pastor, and Dulce, Hermano Pastor’s sister-in-law. Dulce was a returned missionary who served as our Sunday school teacher in Abasolo. Elder Hoover gave his talk, and then I gave mine. I talked about the divinity of Jesus Christ and how the Book of Mormon helps us to understand and know that He was literally the Son of God. Afterwards, several people were called on to give testimonies, Tarryn (President Goodman’s adopted daughter), Melanie (Hermana Goodman’s niece who was visiting for some reason), and Israel (the son of Hermano Saldivar, first counselor to President Goodman). We then sang “I Am A Child Of God,” and

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heard from Hermana Saldivar and then Hermano Saldivar, and Sister and President Goodman. President Goodman talked of the importance of knowing that Joseph Smith was a prophet and how we can know. In his talk, he even referred back to portions of my own presentation. After the conference, we mingled, had interviews, and received letters. The mingling took the form of making and eating sandwiches. The sisters from both branches instantly bonded, got together, and made sandwiches for everyone. Sister Goodman joined them, and we all had a good time. After everyone left, Elder Hoover and I had interviews with President Goodman. I remember very few details of my very first interview with him, yet I remember this, my second one, as if it were yesterday. Elder Hoover went first, and the two of them settled into the air-conditioned classroom upstairs. Sister Goodman and I sat on chairs outside the meetinghouse, while Tarryn and Melanie went off exploring Soto la Marina. It was during that amiable conversation on the steps of a run-down building that she shared an interesting experience with me. On the night of August 15th, after all of district 60B had been assigned to our various fields of labor, Sister Goodman had expressed sympathy to her husband on my part. “Poor Elder Barrett. I feel so bad that he has to start his mission in Soto.” President Goodman laughed, and observed to his wife that all of the elders who had started their mission in Soto had gone on to be the strongest, most valiant, and widely admired missionaries in the Tampico Mission. He pointed to various elders as examples, including Elder McCall, my first zone leader, who finished his mission in the offices as secretary to the president. I fervently hoped that I could carry on Soto’s grand tradition and vowed then and there to work my hardest to live up to the precedent that had been set for me. The elder who was in Soto before me had also begun his mission with this tiny, dusty town. Elder Wright certainly finished his mission with a bang. Whether or not I achieved that level of excellence is for the reader to determine. I finally had my chance to talk with the big man upstairs, referring of course to President Goodman who was waiting for me on the second floor of the meetinghouse. He told me he liked my talk, and complemented me on my public speaking style. He asked if I was happy, and I told him that I was. He asked if I was always quiet and shy, and I answered in the negative, citing my just-finished conversation with his wife as an example. The Spanish language was making me shy, I concluded. He asked me to talk with my companion more. Until that time, I had had no idea that I was being so withdrawn as to make Elder Hoover feel lonely. During my final week in Soto, I tried very hard to open up to my companion. I genuinely enjoyed his company, but I was never sure if he knew that. I then received letters from Dad, Mom, and Blake. Shortly after arriving back at our apartment, we got a knock on our door. Our landlady invited us upstairs to take a telephone call that had come for us. On the other end of the line was Elder Allen, our ZL, calling from Victoria. He asked us if President Goodman had left already, and when Elder Hoover replied in the affirmative, he invited us to spend P-Day with our zone in Victoria. We quickly

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packed our stuff, and went to the bus station. This time we were able to take the less direct route to Victoria, and since the bus was in nicer condition than the Tamaulipecos, I took the time to write a letter to my parents. Half of the following letter was written at the bus station while we waited to board, and the second half is written in a six-year-old’s scrawl. I wrote it on the bumpy bus to Victoria.

Extracts from a Letter to my Parents “Elder Hoover says that President Goodman told him that I’ll be transferred in a week. I’m not sure that I’m quite ready to leave. I wonder if I have learned everything Soto la Marina has to offer. There’s really nothing specific, nothing I can point out and say “This!, This is what I learned in Soto la Marina.” But I think the small things have had the most profound effects—working in the POOR areas here, working with a struggling branch, struggling myself with the language. My time in Soto has been tough, but I don’t think I’ve ever seen the world and real life quite so realistically, or learned how real the gospel is. “I found out this week that Fred wrote a letter to Dad. Fred is the twelveyear-old son of Sara. I hope you took the time to write him back, or have Blake write him. He also has a ten-year-old brother, Sergio, who I’m sure would enjoy a letter. You won’t find a better family in all of Mexico. I recently had the opportunity to sit down and talk with Fred and Sergio. The conversation turned to missions, and I asked them what their plans were. Their eyes lit up, and the excitement they both have for the gospel brings tears to my eyes as I think about it now.” “I’m looking out the bus window now, watching the sun set over the Mexican desert, although for a desert, it’s very green and beautiful. But I love more than just the landscape; I love the people. I don’t think I would have this love for them if I was doing anything else. But in service, in teaching, and inspiring, I have lost a portion of my heart to this small, dusty Mexican pueblo. I hope that I’ll feel the same about my other areas. It’s kind of strange to love an area that is considered the most difficult, spiritually as well as physically, in the mission. But, it’s true.” Monday, October 28, 1996 Last night we traveled to Victoria, and this morning we were up and out the door at 7:00 a.m. We were going to climb a mountain in Victoria as a zone. However, the military base on which it was located denied us permission. Zona Victoria had climbed the same mountain some months ago and we were only looking to repeat the experience. I had seen photos of the summit, and there was a visitor’s kiosk and lookout points and everything. It was unfortunate that the army was running exercises that day, or I would have been able to see the whole city from the lofty peak. As we regrouped and tried to figure out what to do instead, Hermana Curiel handed me a citrus fruit, which I took to be an orange. It was the largest orange I had ever seen, but I supposed that they could grow that big in the

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tropics. I peeled it, bit into it, and puckered up. It wasn’t an orange, but a grapefruit. I smiled at Hermana Curiel, and finished eating the whole thing. We finally contacted the other zone and decided that we would meet up with them at the park near Elder Allen’s house. We passed the day in the park, with the other zone, playing volleyball, basketball, and just hanging out. This was the first time I began to feel any sort of social connection with other missionaries. I can remember very few of the elders in Zona Bosque, where I spent my first six weeks, but I can remember everyone in my Victoria Zone vividly. Elder Allen and his companion, Elder Navarro. Elder Cheney, the district leader and his companion, Elder Vazquez. Hermana Perales and Hermana Curiel, who would play a larger role in my mission a year later. Oh, it felt so good to be making friends once more. Afterwards, half of us went to a pizza parlor in town, an all-you-can-eat establishment. I used the money Dad sent me yesterday. I was eating a hot dog pizza, drinking an apple-flavored soda, and talking about baptisms in Spanish with a couple of Mexican women when it hit me—my life is weird. I then went to the bank, shopping, home, showered, and then a zone meeting with both zones. Zona Victoria was normally a single zone. When Soto la Marina joined the party, President Goodman split the zone into two zones, which were later reunited. Because of this, the zones felt very close to each other, closer than did the multiple zones in Tampico and Madero. It should also be noted here that this was the first time we had a Monday night zone meeting. Such was to be the pattern for the rest of my mission, and I think everyone liked it better that way. Previously, P-Day ended at 6:00 p.m. on Monday night, after which we went out proselyting until 9:30. This made our PDays feel truncated and abbreviated. The new change made Monday more than just a day of rest for us, but it also became our day of congregation and reunion. And with the zone meeting in the early evening, we still had enough time to attend a family home evening with investigators. The result was that the remainder of the week was less fragmented by these miscellaneous activities, and the uninterrupted week fueled an increase in missionary efficiency. After the meeting, we had a surprise birthday party for Elder Dolan, the ZL of the other zone, who turned twenty-one yesterday. Elder Hoover and I had to leave the party early to catch the last bus to Soto. As I was heading out the door, I shook Elder Dolan’s hand, wished him a happy birthday, and parted with these inspiring words. “If I don’t ever see you again, which I probably won’t, have a great rest of your life.” Elder Fister laughed, and said, “Barrett always says the funniest things.” It made me feel warm inside to hear that Fister thought I was funny. That day in Victoria was one of the best in my mission, not because we did fun things, but because for the first time since arriving, I felt a part of the team unity that I had glimpsed ever so briefly on my first day in Mexico. Living in Soto had forced me into a social exile, lost to the rest of the mission until such a time as a I was transferred to more gregarious pastures. A condition of this exile required Elder Hoover and I to leave just as the birthday party was beginning; we

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had to catch the late bus back to lonely Soto la Marina. We grabbed a slice of cake on the way out the door and thus reinvigorated, we returned home. Tuesday, October 29, 1996 I had forgotten what Tuesdays were like in Soto la Marina; it’s been so long since we’ve been in town for one. There is a large, open-air market on the street, one block from our apartment. It stretched for several blocks, running on a north-south line. Tarps covered each individual booth, and each booth had something unique to sell—pirated music tapes, fresh-laid eggs, vegetables, trinkets and ornaments, and second-hand clothes brought down from the border. It’s rad. We went back and visited Vivian this evening. She seems happy enough. Her family fed us dinner, and it was GOOD. Her father served us some sort of savory roast beef. We also visited Edelmira this evening. In the morning we delivered a bunch of certificates of ordinances. Again, I am plagued with self-doubts and fears. Do I really have a place in the kingdom of God? Do I have something unique to contribute? These questions, as silly as they seem, were brought on by my interaction with the zones the day before. I was able to see how they interacted, and I recognized the fact that I was not a part of it. What I did not recognize was the fact that it was my geographic location which kept me from entering into the circle fully, and not some intrinsic failing in myself. And so, these questions were the result. Wednesday, October 30, 1996 Where the heck did October go? It just got here, now it’s almost Halloween. This morning we made a bunch of contacts. We started out on the east side of Soto, and made our way north. We saw the large recreational facility, sitting like a giant barn on the east side of the highway, taking up large tracts of land. We shortcutted across the soccer fields that surrounded the large facility, and continued on our way. North of the recreational facility were several old farm buildings. They were falling apart, made of rotting wood, and looked incongruously out-of-place in Soto. Most buildings I had seen around town were dab and wattle affairs, or if the family was rich, cinder block. There was a tired sense of agelessness about these collapsing farm buildings, reminding me of collapsing structures glimpsed throughout the Rocky Mountains of Colorado. I gazed at them for a few brief moments, and then we moved on. We made our way back west, and then moved south, to return home for lunch. I tried making contacts, and I got so far as “how are you?” before my companion jumped in and took over. I was doing fine, but, oh well. I never doubted that Elder Hoover loved me and that he wanted me to succeed as a missionary. I did not begrudge him his friendly over-zealousness. In the afternoon, we visited some member families, taught the seminary class for Hermana Sara, and ended the day with a visit to Edelmira’s. I’m feeling

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a little bit better now, with my Spanish, with my own abilities, and so forth. I seem to go through a self-esteem low periodically. Soto la Marina has been tough; it’s drained me physically, mentally, and spiritually. I hope I’ve learned here that which I need to learn, and apply it in my life. Thursday, October 31, 1996 At 4:00 this morning, Mayra gave birth to a healthy baby girl. Mayra was originally from Victoria, but when she conceived a baby out of wed-lock, her family sent her to live with her aunt in Soto la Marina, our own Hermana Reyna. They haven’t decided on a name yet, and until such a time that they do, I have taken to calling the little one Rebekah. It’s my suggestion for her name— Rebekah Ramirez. In the afternoon, we visited Mayra. It seemed strange to me that Mayra had been discharged from the hospital already, but such were the vagaries of Mexican hospitals, which scared me almost as much as Mexican soldiers did. Mayra was laying on the bed, the new baby beside her, hardly twelve hours old. It was a beautiful sight. Only yesterday we were talking with a very pregnant Mayra, and now laying beside her body is that which was within it scant hours before. I wasn’t sure whether to be awed by the wondrous miracle of it all, or to be saddened that Mayra is now laying in the dark alone with her fears, hopes, dreams, and worries, and “Rebekah” will never know her father. Still, it was a wonder to see this little one, who only recently came to us from our Father in Heaven. I took some photos of the mother and baby, since no one else had, and was all too aware of the empty place a father should have occupied in them. We met another Guadalupe today; his name was Jorge. It’s Halloween, but it’s too hot and so it doesn’t feel like it. Friday, November 1, 1996 It was a very short day, really. Not a lot happened. We started with a morning of service. We spent three hours in Olga’s backyard with a machete and a hoe, cutting her waist-high grass-weeds. I’ve got three blisters on my left hand, none on my right. We finished our morning by cleaning the meetinghouse; it was left in some disarray after Sunday’s conference. We took down chairs, swept, mopped, and so forth. In the evening, we visited Hermana Sara, and went to an appointment, another no-show. We watched the April 1995 Saturday Morning Session of General Conference with Hermana Edelmira. We had found the tape earlier that day as we were cleaning the branch meeting house. Watching it brought back some strong memories, of this conference and of General Conferences in general. The next time I see one will be in October of 1998, and I won’t attend a live session until April of 1999. It seems like quite a ways away. Oh well. I’m doing something useful in the meantime.

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After we had watched a couple of talks, the children grew restless and bored. They had borrowed Disney’s “Aladdin” from a neighbor and wanted to watch it. We relented, and watched the movie with them. Edelmira fed us, and we enjoyed yet another moment of bonding with this family. Saturday, November 2, 1996 Today was downright COLD. Or in other words, it was perfectly dreamy. Tonight we visited Hermana Sara, and she gave me a going-away gift, a string of seashells. What a wonderful family this is! We also made a trip to Barrio Blanco, quite possibly my last. Everyone was expecting me to be transferred on Tuesday, and they all said their good-byes. Darkness descended upon us earlier and earlier every day, and the crisp autumn evening caught us unaware as we were visiting with Sara in her home. There was a cold wind sweeping through the dark streets of Soto la Marina, and the inside of Sara’s house was toasty and warm. The television was on, and our gaze started sliding, and each time it slid to the glowing screen, it was harder to pull back. We struggled through a show on TV Azteca called Te Cache, a candid camera type deal. The following show, however, was even more difficult to resist. I feel bad about it now, but I finally relented, and watched the Simpsons Halloween Special. It brought back many pleasant memories—of school, BYU, home, etc. However, it didn’t feel right watching TV, and I don’t think I’ll ever do it again. It’s not worth the cost. Television was a difficult struggle for me. Most Mexican shows held no attraction for me, but from time to time, an American show would find its way south of the border and I would be torn with the desire to watch. Even when the show was from Mexican syndication, the glowing, dancing shapes attracted the eye, and as my Spanish improved, I was able to understand more of what was being said by those glowing, dancing shapes. It was a challenge with which I struggled the entirety of my mission. Sunday, November 3, 1996 Do you remember two weeks ago when we only had five people in sacrament meeting? Well guess what? Nobody showed up today. Zero, zip, zilch, not a one. I tend to take things like that rather personally. I work, labor, and love these people, and then they don’t bother to come to church. We kept a large book in which we recorded every aspect of sacrament meeting—who conducted, who spoke, what the hymns were, and total attendance. The book went back several years, and I was able to flip back and see that the same thing had happened over a year ago. Some of it is understandable. Reyna is busy with her niece’s new baby and Sara has two sick kids on her hands. However, what was really at the source of our attendance woes was the wide-spread belief, born of Catholic fidelity, that faithfully attending church meetings did not require one to go to church every

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week, but rather, only a few times per month. If someone were really dedicated, we could expect to see them in church as many as three times a month. However, for most of Soto, it was once or twice. And since the week previous was such a big shindig with President Goodman, the people of Soto la Marina had expended their entire monthly quota of Sunday attendance on that one grand event. Oh well. So, I saw a map of Soto la Marina today, while my companion was registering to vote. And you know what? It’s shaped like a devil’s head. And I’m not the first one to think so; someone else had drawn in the eyes and other features. I guess this city IS in the proverbial hand basket. We got a call from Captain Allen, our zone leader. We have to travel to Victoria tomorrow. I’m not happy about using my P-Day in this way. I need to do laundry, and I can’t do it when I’m in Ciudad Victoria. No one had bothered to explain to me that Monday night zone meetings were going to be the norm, and so I was a little peeved about using my P-Day to travel to Victoria. Since I had never lived in the city, I did not know that Mexican cities had laundromats; I figured everyone either did laundry by hand or used the antiquated machines I had seen in Soto la Marina. However, I do like the idea of seeing my zone one more time. I’ve really come to love this group. The other zone is also a lot of fun, but I didn’t get to know them as well. That’s about it. Scripture study is fine. I’m reading Articles of Faith by James E. Talmage. Monday, November 4, 1996 Well, I guess that’s what I get for second-guessing God. I didn’t get transferred after all; I’m here in Soto la Marina for another month or so. That’s all well and good. Despite my unconcerned attitude here, I was bitterly disappointed when no call came for my transfer. It’s not that I disliked Soto, but I had learned that there was a whole new world of possibilities open for me in other areas. I tried to put the best face on my situation, and set some goals to drive and inspire me during the following month. And I was sure that I would need all the drive and determination possible in order to survive another month in Soto la Marina. Now, I’ll have the opportunity to bless Mayra’s baby and see Viki’s baby, which is due this month. I’ve made it my goal to baptize Edelmira before I leave. I don’t know how to do it, but I will, with the Lord’s help, of course. We spent the day in Victoria, writing letters, sleeping, and so forth. We had a zone meeting in the evening, and then we left. This was the first zone that I really loved and felt a part of. During one meeting, we each shared a spiritual experience from the mission field, and since I had spent my first two months in Soto, I had very few experiences from which to draw. I talked about the time I had prepared a talk on the resurrection and Edelmira walked in to church just as I was starting it. Listening to the others’ experiences I knew that the rest of my mission would not be like these first two months.

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As we were leaving Victoria that evening, as the bus turned left onto Mexico Highway 70, a very clear and distinct thought entered my mind and invaded every crevice of my brain. “The next time I return to Victoria, it will be as a zone leader.” After the transfer call didn’t come, I figured that the thought was only wishful thinking, another example of unrighteous leadership aspirations on my part. Having spent the day in Victoria, I figured that I had a week of handwashing my clothes ahead of me. This means I’ll have to do my laundry little by little over the next few days. Elder Allen is being transferred; we’ll have a new zone leader tomorrow. I wonder who else has been transferred from my zone. I wonder where my old MTC district is going to end up after tomorrow.

Extracts from a Letter to my Parents “This week I was called upon to give a blessing to the five-month-old son of Hermana Sara, Alejandro Cruz Sarabia. He was a little sick and Sara asked us to give him a blessing. It was different from any other blessing I had given; Alejandro sat upon his mother’s lap, and we laid our hands upon his head. Half way through, he started crying and squirming. His head wouldn’t stay still, and we had to move our hands to keep up with his head. “And I guess you want to hear about the Day of the Dead. I snapped a few pictures, but it’ll be impossible to really experience it through them. The cemetery was absolutely gorgeous—flowers of every color, wreaths, and candles. Mexican graveyards are already unique and varied, and add to this the beauty of the decoration, and you’re left with something absolutely wonderful. There were a number of street vendors who had set up outside the gates of the cemetery. There were tons of people coming and going. In town nearly every one was selling flowers, decorations, or wreaths. Halloween went unobserved here, but not Day of the Dead. It was awesome.” The following postscript was added at the bottom of the letter, and here is translated into English. “Brother Barrett, it is a pleasure for me to write you. I am Elder Hoover, from San Cristobal de las Casas, Chiapas. It has been my privilege to labor in the work of the Lord, and I appreciate the support you give to Elder Barrett. He is a good missionary and is progressing rapidly. I love him a lot. I have been in the mission now for a year and two months and have been a member for almost five years. I have been very happy to know the gospel. I know that this is the true church, and it is directed by Jesus Christ. Con cariño, Elder Hoover.” Tuesday, November 5, 1996 Well, I guess that’s what I get for second-guessing God. It turns out that I did get transferred. I got a call at 10:00 a.m. informing us of the error. We packed my bags in a rush, throwing everything I had into the two suitcases I owned.

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Before leaving, Elder Hoover and I knelt down for one last companionship prayer. In his prayer, he slipped and called me by the name of his previous companion, Elder Taylor. We thus had one last laugh together. I got to Tampico to find Elder Watkins was going to take my place in Soto la Marina. I’m leaving it in good hands. I hopped on a bus with an Elder Manzo from Baja California Sur, and we rode to Matamoros. Because we got such a late start, the offices ordered Kentucky Fried Chicken for the six of us who were headed north. Elders Watkins and Tonks were on that bus as well. Tonks de-bused at Aldama, and Watkins and Hoover got off in Soto. During the final four hours, I talked with Elder Manzo, who seemed like a decent and agreeable guy. It took us eight hours to get to Matamoros, which gives me a grand total of twelve hours on buses today. I met my new companion, Elder Ramos. He’s the zone leader here. Elder Ramos was from the state of Mexico, just outside of Mexico City. On our bus trip, we were stopped several times and I had to flash my passport. They were looking for illegal immigrants from El Salvador and Guatemala. At one point, the soldiers made a group of people get off the bus, and examined their feet, which seemed rather odd to me. They apparently passed whatever arbitrary test the military had designed to catch illegals, they reboarded the bus, and we continued on our way. I also met a group who is going to cross the river illegally to America. None of them had more than a hundred pesos. After a long day, it’s now 2:00 am.

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Elder Hoover loved Soto’s rural atmosphere Here he is attempting to feed a goat

Elder Barrett with the children of Lionel and Victoria Ramirez Their home was located in Barrio Blanco

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