10--huejutla De Reyes

Chapter Ten Huejutla de Reyes

Life with the Monterubios was an unexpected joy. My arrival was unheralded, and yet they had been expecting me. With warm compassion, they took me in, fed me, and gave me a place to stay during my three-day visit in Huejutla. For all intents and purposes I was a functioning member of the household. On the last day of my visit, Katia, the youngest Monterubio daughter, insisted that I be the one to walk her to school. She was so proud to arrive at her kindergarten with me, and so proud to tell her friends and teachers that she had a new hermano mayor. When I arrived in Huejutla during my June pilgrimage, I was so overwhelmed with emotion that I did not know whom to visit first. I wanted so much to talk with Elodia and her daughters, to visit with Pablo and Maribel, and to walk the lonely mountain paths of Colonia Chapultepec. My first visit, however, was to the Monterubio home. I found their neighborhood easily enough, and even located the correct street. However, Antonio and Yolanda lived in a prefab neighborhood, and all the homes looked alike. I walked from one end of the street to the other, but none of the homes looked familiar. I knew that the Monterubios lived nearer to the northern end of the neighborhood, so I turned around and began retracing my steps. I found Sister Monterubio, her two daughters at her side, standing in the middle of the street frantically searching for someone. She was searching for me. Katia had seen me coming, and rushed into the house to tell her family. By the time the family had comprehended her frenetic babblings, I had already passed the house. They rushed into the street, looking for me, and were still there when I retraced my steps northward. I was surprised that Katia even remembered and recognized me, but she did. Yolanda later confided in me that Katia had seen me visiting in a dream the week before. Everyone thought the dream silly at the time, but little Katia had been expecting me.

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The Monterubios invited me into their home, where I collapsed into a living room chair, one located conveniently close to a fan. Yolanda asked me how long I planned to stay in Huejutla, and I briefly outlined my itinerary. She then invited me to use her guest room, and I gratefully accepted. As I sat in the Monterubio living room, cooled by the motion of the fan, I began making a mental tally of the people and places I wanted to visit. However, it had been a long day traveling, and I was weary. What’s more, I was nearing the end of my supply of clean clothes, and knew that I should do laundry before the day was through. While I was busy thinking, Yolanda was busy in the kitchen. She woke me from my reverie with a plateful of food, which I voraciously devoured. After chatting with the Monterubios for a time, I asked Yolanda if I could use her washing machine. To my surprise, she refused, instead insisting that she would wash my clothes as long as I was a guest in her home. I tried to demur, but she insisted much more strongly than I had strength to refuse. I reluctantly gave in to her mothering, and thus it was that I became a son in the Monterubio household. I spent the afternoon making visits in various corners of Huejutla. I returned to the Monterubio home as darkness crept over the valley. The children were asleep, but the parents were still awake watching television, which they turned off when I walked in. The three of us stayed up late that night, talking, reliving great moments, and catching up on the previous two years. Antonio, still the branch president, asked me to give a talk that Sunday, two days hence. I was honored to do so, and humbly accepted his invitation. I left early the following morning and was gone for most of the day. I visited Elodia and Chela. I climbed the long staircase up to Rojo Lugo. I even hiked the steep dusty road to the crest of Colonia Chapultepec, where I visited with a former investigator. I returned late in the evening once again, and Yolanda had a warm dinner waiting for me. She also had my laundry hanging on a clotheslines on the back patio. I was humbled and thankful for her support. Yolanda just shrugged and said, “that’s what I do for all of my children.” Sunday meetings were held in the newly completed chapel, located on land that the Church had owned for many years. After the services, as I socialized in the halls with those whom I had not yet visited, I heard Antonio enquiring after his son. He said it was time to go home and did not want to leave him behind. As a son in the Monterubio family, I was loved, treasured, and cherished. As their son and as their brother, I returned that love fully. We were, after all, family.

Tuesday, April 15, 1997 What a welcome to Huejutla! We had scarcely left the house when we were greeted by a member of the local branch. As we were talking with this sister, she suddenly burst into laughter. Following her line of sight, we looked down and discovered that a mangy stray dog had lifted its leg and peed on my companion. We returned to the house and my companion changed his pants. Because I had not been given time to do laundry the day before, we spent the morning in the house of a member, washing my dirty, smelly clothes, as well as my companion’s newly-soiled pants.

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And then finally, I left for my first day as senior companion. I guess I did okay. My comp is an absolute stud. He is a hard worker, likes to contact, and uses the commitment pattern well. I was very nervous at first, and my first few contacts were a little awkward, but I began to loosen up by the end of the day. I was Elder Monroy’s second companion; his first had been Elder Griffin, who was our zone leader and housemate in Huejutla. The two of them had worked one half of the town, but when Elder Taylor and his companion had been transferred out of the area in March, they were left to work the entire town by themselves. However, since most of their investigators were still concentrated in one section of the city, that was where they had focused their efforts. Thus, Elder Monroy and I, by reopening the northern half of the city, were going into an area that had not seen missionaries in over a month. This was not a huge obstacle, but just like Elder Jimenez and I had had to do in Matamoros, my new companion and I had to quickly establish a teaching pool and begin baptizing. Huejutla is beautiful. It is located inland from the sea, nestled in the Sierra Madres. The landscape is lush and green, and high hills and mountains surround the town. Since arriving the day before, I could not tear my eyes from the beauty of the hills that huddled over the town like protective parents. It rained all day, but the mud was passable. I left my coat at the house, since it was clear in the morning. Thus, I came home from my first day as senior comp drenched to the skin. I love my mission. Wednesday, April 16, 1997 What a day! In short, I crossed state lines from Hidalgo to Veracruz to visit a small town, walked though a river of mud to visit the home of a member of the district presidency, and there ate a number of undersized plums. The small town in question was El Pintor, located on the Hidalgo-Veracruz border. It was a part of our area, although not officially within the jurisdiction of the town of Huejutla. A single member family lived in El Pintor, but they were a powerful force in the San Felipe district. The father was the first counselor in the district presidency and his eldest son, Disraeli, was the second counselor in the Huejutla branch presidency. The small town of Pintor had no paved roads, and I loved its rustic flavor. We taught a first charla to a person of indeterminate gender in El Pintor. Afterwards Elder Monroy had told me that the individual had been a man, though I had believed him to be a woman, and the name, being one that I had never heard before, had given me no clues. Since he or she did not accept our invitation to read the Book of Mormon, we never did return to teach a second charla, and I never did learn his or her gender. We walked through a dark and flooded cow pasture and had several close calls with the native cow paddies. There were several large cow pastures in my area, and often times, the quickest route from one point to another was to duck through the barbed wire fence, and follow well-trodden footpaths to the other side of the pasture. At first I was a little frightened of the large beasts that called the

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pasture home, but I soon came to enjoy the tranquility that I found in our shortcuts. We climbed one of the many mountains here in Huejutla, and saw a grown man brought to tears by his life’s difficulties. Elder Monroy and I gave him advice, encouragement, and a priesthood blessing. This was Hermano Gomez, the father of five children, all of which still lived at home. He had recently lost his job and was trying hard to provide for his family. His eldest son, Mateo, lived at home with his wife and son, and they too contributed to the maintenance of the entire family. I would come to spend many hours with the Gomez family, and I developed a special bond with them. They had been baptized by a former companion of mine during his own greenie days. We visited several less actives, made sixteen contacts, and taught three discussions. In the evening I discovered that my comp has a couple of tattoos. Elder Monroy had joined the Church two years ago in his native Tlaxcala, and the tattoos were remnants of a former life. He did not like talking about them, so I dropped the subject, but was still fascinated by this character who had been assigned to be my new companion. It’s been a very full day and I want to spend some time in the area book looking for names of people that need to be visited. My comp is a wonderful support for me. I couldn’t have asked for a better one. Thursday, April 17, 1997 We did a little exploring today. I let my curious side take me off the beaten path and into the hills of Huejutla. It’s a small colonia, nestled in several valleys up in the hills, less than half a mile from the bus depot. It was fairly poor, but very resourceful. The colonia was called Chapultepec, and I loved it dearly. I loved the fifteen-minute walk into its high valleys, the beautiful view of the city below, and the refreshing feel of being away from the busy activity of the city center. I contacted in Chapultepec often, tracting out the entire colonia in the following months. My companions and I ranged up and down the steep sided valleys, traveling over and beyond the valley’s ridges, exploring new paths, and contacting every little farmstead and squatter’s settlement in those hills beyond the city proper. We worked hard today, but ineffectively. We made some twenty-five contacts, of which only three yielded charlas. This part of Huejutla hasn’t seen missionaries in a little over a month, so we’re trying to reestablish it. Just like Elder Jimenez and I did, we are teaching a bunch of first charlas in the beginning, but we will have baptisms. I didn’t ever think I’d do it, but I’ve been looking at the things Elder Jimenez and I did together that would work in my new area. Experience is a funny teacher. Friday, April 18, 1997 Since we were still new in our area, we did not know anyone to whom we could devote our weekly service project. So, we spent the morning chopping grass

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and cleaning trash out of our back yard. Elder Monroy and I both took machetes to the waist-high grass that occupied our backyard and filled several trash bags full of weeds and garbage. I only ended up with one blister. My ability with a machete has grown considerably since that first day in Soto la Marina, so very long ago. To be honest with myself, I’m in love with Huejutla already. I don’t know why exactly. Perhaps it’s the scenery. It’s an absolute paradise here. People are poor; I’ve never seen people living in areas inaccessible to motor vehicles. The way these houses are built into the side of the mountain is fascinating. There are some very rich people, also. We ate lunch today with the Monterubio family. They fed us a four course meal—soup, salad, main dish, and desert. It was good food. Antonio Monterubio taught classes at a nearby “normal” school, an educational institution which taught and trained teachers. He was also the newly called branch president, and was humble enough to know that he needed help with his new calling. His daughters were less humble. On my first day in Huejutla, Elder Monroy and I encountered Yolanda and Ishtar shopping in the Centro, and we stopped to greet them. The first thing out of eight-year old Ishtar’s mouth was “My father is branch president.” Her mother shushed her, but we laughed about it all the same. I extended my first invitation to a member to prepare references for us. She is a less-active named Herlinda. I think the spirit really touched her. Later, we read scriptures by candlelight with the poor and humble Gomez family. Despite their poverty, the family’s home commanded a million-dollar view of the valley and city. They lived on the crest of one of Huejutla’s hills and had a 270degree view of the city below and the environs surrounding the town. I was often amazed at the juxtaposition of poverty and paradise. If the Gomez Family had lived in an American real estate market, their home, shabby and drab as it was, would have commanded a million-dollar price. Saturday, April 19, 1997 It wasn’t a bad day. I was out of ánimo for a few hours in the morning. It’s frustrating to think of the low activity rates among members of the Church, and what that means in terms of missionary work. I think the problem is in the way the Catholic Church is a part of the culture here in Mexico. A person belongs to that church without ever attending, and this attitude carries over through the conversion process. In less than a week, Elder Monroy has become one of my best friends. We’re already planning a visit after this whole mission thing is over. It’s all in jest for now, but who know? We taught a few charlas, showed up to a number of falloutos, and enjoyed the mountainous scenery and gorgeous sunset. I ate two mangos.

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Sunday, April 20, 1997 It was my first Sunday in Huejutla, and what a blast! We meet in a metal shed, though this month, construction will start on a new chapel. How exciting! The shed was located on a large plot of land which the Church had bought over twenty years ago. The shed occupied a small corner of the land, and the rest was filled with trees and plants of various sorts. The new chapel would be constructed upon this plot of land, and the branch presidency was furiously searching for a suitable replacement for the branch meetinghouse for the duration of the construction. I greeted members, talked, and chatted. We had sixty-nine members in attendance, eight of which were less-actives with whom we had visited during the week. I gave a talk, a fairly good one, if I do say so myself. It was the revised version of my Soto conference talk, written so very long ago, explaining how the Book of Mormon confirms our testimony of Jesus Christ. My Spanish was very smooth and confident. Afterwards, we split into four classes—adults, new converts, youth, and primary. I taught the new converts class about scriptures. We dragged our chairs outside and sat under a mango tree, Most of the Sunday School classes were held outdoors; the primary remained inside. Two of the new converts that day were especially impressive, and I would be privileged to participate in their spiritual progress during the following months. Pablo and his wife Maribel had been baptized by Elder Griffin two weeks before, and they were very animated and excited about the church. They participated actively in the class discussion, and I knew that they were a couple who had truly been converted. The lesson went fairly well. We finished with an elders quorum lessons from the director of a prestigious high school here in Huejutla. Pilar Lopez was the most prolific Mormon in Huejutla, and thus he was a valuable asset to the church. He served as first counselor to the branch presidency, and his was one of the oldest member families in the Huasteca—his wife’s sister had been the first person baptized in that entire region. We went working in the evening, ate ice cream with a member, taught a charla (bien suave), and had a few more no-shows. On returning home, we had companionship inventory, the most efficient I’ve yet had. We ended with testimonies and kneeling prayer. Then I made Jell-O and cranked out a couple of letters. In my personal studies, I’m in Exodus, 2 Nephi 9, and Joseph Smith History. I’m somewhere in the C’s in Mormon Doctrine, and still plodding my way through Jesus the Christ. I love this branch. I already have some very intense feelings towards these people. I want to work hard; there’s no excuse for laziness. My comp feels the same way.

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Monday, April 21, 1997 It was a pretty hectic P-Day, and I had very little time to relax. My companion and I ran errands in town while Elder Griffin and Elder Bravo went to a member’s house and did our laundry. We went to the bank, paid the water bill, sent a fax, went shopping, came home, cleaned house, and ate lunch. When all was said and done, I had very little time for naps today. I found an electric keyboard lying around our house. I learned later that it belonged to the Monterubios, and they had lent it to the elders the previous month for use in a family home evening. I tried to teach myself to play, on a real basic level, five or six hymns. I’d like to learn how to play the piano for real someday. Not long after the events described here, the Monterubios asked for the keyboard back, and Ishtar continued her music lessons, and I stopped mine. In the evening we had a district meeting. The only problem was that our DL is comp to the ZL, and they both had to go to Tempoal. In those days, there were only two zones in the Huasteca. The Huejutla zone had three districts: one in San Felipe to the west, one in Huejutla, and one in Tempoal. Later, a Tempoal zone was created for the elders in Tantayuca and Tempoal. Until that time, Elder Griffin, the zone leader, spent much of his P-Days traveling to district meetings outside of Huejutla. So, my companion and I had a district meeting, just the two of us. We went to work in the evening and verified with a guy who loves to talk. His name is Diego. He was a store owner who lived on the paved street which led west out of town to smaller villages up in the hills. Diego was a thin man, fluent in Nahuatl, and he was interested in our message. He talked at length about how we should translate the Book of Mormon into the indigenous languages of Mexico, and preach in the countryside to those who still lived in much the same fashion as their ancestors did. Diego’s enthusiasm for the Book of Mormon, and for our message, burned itself out quickly, and he never progressed much further than this initial stage of talking and dreaming about where and how and to whom the gospel should be preached.

Extracts from a Letter to my Parents “Elder Monroy is pretty cool. He has lived a tough life, mostly growing up on his own. He has two old and faded tattoos. We’re getting along well, and we’re already best of friends. He has strengths that I lack; he’s not afraid to talk to people. We make a good team. I’m going to learn a lot from him. “Huejutla is a paradise. The town proper is in a valley, which is crisscrossed by a number of rivers. On all sides there are mountainous jungles, and our area extends into them. The other day, we went tracting into one of those areas. It was gorgeous. It was also very sobering. These truly are the poor and humble of the earth. These areas in the mountains are completely inaccessible to cars. It’s amazing how the people build homes into the side of the mountain. I even saw a corn field planted on a very steep incline. It’s absolutely amazing.

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“I’m in an area of Mexico called the Huasteca. It’s Indian territory, more or less. This is real Mexico. Matamoros was saturated with American culture; Huejutla is pristine. There are a number of Indian dialects spoken in this area, the most prominent of which is called Nahuatl. There are a bunch of people who speak it, of which a good portion of them speak little or no Spanish. You can imagine how frustrating that can get. “I’m eating well. This week I splurged and bought stuff for peanut butter and jelly sandwiches. I also bought a few boxes of Jell-O. I made the first of those boxes last night. It came out very tasty. Jell-O is pretty hard to screw up; even I can’t manage to mess it up (too badly).” Tuesday, April 22, 1997 I’m running out of things to say. We had a correlation meeting again today, or at least we tried. Again, the branch president never showed up. During the time we spent waiting for him, Elder Griffin and I talked of BYU. It made me trunky. I miss the place. We organized a few families, inviting them to prepare friends to listen to the charlas. I feel guilty because I’m still so quiet and shy. I can’t seem to open up fully; I still have a fear of people. A senior companion, I’ve always felt, should set the example and be outgoing with members. I feel fairly relaxed with members but I can’t seem to be at ease with contacts and investigators. We arrived home late tonight. We were planning a family home evening with an investigator for the following night, and we needed to secure a VCR. However, the only VCR that we knew of belonged to a member on the other side of our area. I wanted to call it a day, and work out the details of the VCR the next day. Elder Monroy, on the other hand, insisted that we do it that very night. Besides, he concluded, the member with the VCR also owned a car and would be able to give us a ride home when we had finished our business with them. And, so we trudged to the other side of our area, and, like Elder Monroy had said, the member gave us a ride home. Wednesday, April 23, 1997 I’m beginning to feel a little frustrated. I can’t seem to get a second charla to save my life. My companion is still a stud, but he’s a little bit of a control freak. I’m not sure if it’s because that’s the way he is, or he thinks he’s helping me. Often times during our evening planning sessions, he would simply say that we should do something else, or plan a different activity. I appreciated his honesty, but sometimes got a little annoyed with his undiplomatic approach. We watched a movie, How Rare a Possession, with an investigator. We also began teaching the charlas to Lydia, an ex-investigator who, along with her menos-activo husband, had a sudden change of heart. Lydia and Jared lived in a tiny little apartment located on the top floor of a small apartment complex that was located on the far side of the River Tecoluco. The river cut deep into the side of one of Huejutla’s hills, leaving one bank with very little room between river

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and towering green slope. The apartment complex in which Lydia and Jared lived was built into the side of the hill. In order to get to their house, we had to walk along one of the main streets that radiated from the Centro, descend to the river through a gap in the buildings, cross the river on large concrete blocks that had been placed there for that purpose, and then climb a short dirt path to where the complex was located. There was no direct access to a paved street. When we had first met Jared, he wanted nothing to do with the church, but now, desiring to set his life straight, he agreed to support the missionaries in our labors. The same thing happened to Hermano Gomez. We had visited his family several times in the last week, and had even given him a priesthood blessing. Something we said or did during those frequent visits touched him. When we visited him yesterday, he was intently studying the Melchizedek Priesthood Study Guide, and he was making a list of non-members whom we should visit. I don’t feel that I’m as efficient as I could be. Things’ll work out for the best. This is God’s work. Thursday, April 24, 1997 We finally have a family in enseñanza, that is, in our teaching pool. Lydia committed herself to baptism tonight. However, we still have so much to do on this front that it makes my head hurt. In short, we have to bring to pass a divorce, a marriage, five charlas, two interviews, and who knows what else. After a couple of months as a senior companion, I learned that getting a divorce in Mexico was so nearly impossible, that most investigators who needed one before they could be baptized would lose ánimo long before any progress was made in that arena. At this point in my mission, I was still unaware of how severe these hurdles really were. I was filled with youthful confidence and zeal, certain that we would be able to accomplish all things necessary for the work of the Lord to progress. However, the Lord’s work does not exist in a vacuum; it must be lived within the context of the laws and norms of earthly society. And while nothing is impossible for the Lord, He respects the agency and choices of His children here on earth. God will not unmake our bad decisions; we must face the consequences of each decision, be it for good or for ill. Lydia and Jared had made some bad decisions, and while they could still choose to follow Christ, they had to face the consequences of their previous mistakes. I talked to Elder Griffin tonight. He was Elder Monroy’s trainer and previous comp. He tells me that my companion is rather enthusiastic about missionary work; I shouldn’t treat his controlling tendencies as something to be discouraged. Tonight he taught most of a first charla, not because I wouldn’t say a thing, but because he had so much he wanted to share, even when it was my turn to teach. We spent the morning in service, sweeping streets and washing windows. This service was to the family of Pilar and Lupita Lopez, who lived down the street from our own home. We were still struggling to find worthwhile service

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projects, so we figured giving service to a member of the branch was better than giving service to ourselves, as we had done the previous week. Friday, April 25, 1997 I’m having those feelings again—the feeling that I’m going to die a lonely, bitter old man. I just can’t seem to get along with anyone. Elder Monroy and I are not fighting by any means; I just feel like my companion doesn’t trust my judgment. Today, I nodded the go-ahead to invite a family to prepare references, which he completely ignored. I tried to give an abbreviated charla to a cousin of the Relief Society president because he was in a hurry and I did not want to take too much of his time. My companion undermined that plan as well. He taught a full-length charla, with many editorial comments, which lasted over an hour. As a result, we arrived forty minutes late to our lunch appointment, the only day in the week when the family waits to eat with us. Planning sessions are unnerving. My opinions and plans are sometimes drowned in by his enthusiasm and zeal. Elder Griffin had a split with Elder Kennedy today. What a cool guy. Elder Kennedy was the senior companion working in San Felipe. He and Elder Griffin had been housemates nine months previous, and they had a lot of fun being together again as companions in the mission field, even if it was only for a day. Elder Kennedy was an excellent listener; he could make you believe that he had never heard anything more interesting or exciting than the stories you were telling him. He hung on every word, was fascinated by every story, and never tried to interrupt with his personal interpretations and commentary. I took an immediate liking to Elder Kennedy, although our first visit was a brief one during our lunch hour. I washed the dishes while Elders Griffin and Monroy shared a spiritual message with the family in the living room. Elder Kennedy joined me in the kitchen, drying plates and glasses, and I talked, he listened, and we became good friends. Saturday, April 26, 1997 We had a good experience today which, I think, helped equilibrate the companionship. We taught a charla to two young people, one very spiritually perceptive, the other not so much. The latter seemed bitter and rebellious, and she asked some very good questions about Joseph Smith and the need for a restoration. Elder Monroy, who was still new in the mission had never met someone so honest in their misgivings. He had finally met an obstacle that could not be overcome by sheer willpower. Casting about for a solution, he was not able to find a convincing answer. Since the topic was one that I had thought a lot about, I stepped in and answered the questions. I was able to answer the investigator’s question and restore my companion’s trust in me at the same time. The investigators described here lived in a large house on the border between Hidalgo and Veracruz. When we had finished the charla, we walked down the main highway, crossed into Veracruz, and walked to the Aradíaz home

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in El Pintor. As we started down the tree-covered dirt lane which led into the heart of that tiny town, Elder Monroy thanked me for my help and told me that he liked the answer that I had given. I then expounded more of what I had learned in my studies, and for the rest of the time that I served with him, we got along well, and he trusted my judgment and direction. During lunch at the Aradíaz home, I drank some more of that tamarindo juice, another example of an acquired taste. However, it is also a taste that I have since un-acquired. Just thinking about tamarindos now triggers an involuntary gag reflex. I don’t know how I even stomached the stuff when I was a missionary. The juice was brown with tamarind pods floating around in the murky pitcher. I had a fairly enjoyable day, especially considering that today is Saturday. I think the key is staying positive. All our morning appointments fell through, and it would have been so easy to let the day go to waste. We walked through the city park. It was very beautiful. The Huejutla city park was located in our area, and I had walked past the front gates nearly every day since arriving in the area. Surrounding the park was a large white stucco wall, and finally my curiosity got the best of me. Elder Monroy and I took a half hour off of our regular missionary duties and took a stroll through the park. It had large ponds, wide walkways, and picnic tables on low hummocks that overlooked nearby portions of the city. On one side of the park, we saw a vast citrus orchard, and on the other, we could see the Pista. The Pista was a long strip of concrete that swept through the north-east section of the town. On one end, new market stalls were taking root, including a small comería run by a less-active member named Herlinda. The pavement was old and cracked, weeds sprouting up and dust covering major portions of it. On either side of the concrete monstrosity were shallow ditches, running parallel to the Pista. Beyond the ditches, the earth rose and the city continued, with homes and streets and neighborhoods. While the Pista was a major landmark in my area, it was not until later that I learned that it used to be the runway of an abandoned airfield that was once located in Huejutla. Sunday, April 27, 1997 We left the house early this morning, and got in a good charla with the daughter of a previous contact. She had a few doubts about the way we treated the Virgin María. She was, in fact, the first person I’ve heard openly declare that she worshipped the mother of the Son of God. We attended our church meetings, and they were fine. I amused myself by flipping through Elder Griffin’s BYU catalog. We had a grip of people in sacrament—75. That’s the most I’ve ever seen in a branch, be it Soto, ‘Solo, or Panuco. After church, we taught another good charla. I think we may see some baptisms coming out of these guys. We finished off the day on a few down notes. We presented a message to Familia Zuñiga, an invitation to prepare references, but my speaking skills departed and it was an awful presentation. Maybe it was caused by the menudo I

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had had to eat just scant minutes before. Familia Zuñiga lived in a second-story apartment near the town’s main plaza. Hermano Zuniga, who had been baptized the previous year but hadn’t gone to church since, was a self-employed ice-cream vendor and we would often see him down by the bus depot peddling his wares. If we visited the Zuñiga family early in the day, we could find him at home preparing his ice cream, and he would often give us a free sample. The three eldest sons were in Denver, whether legally or not, I never asked. The two youngest daughters still lived at home along with a granddaughter. In the apartment below lived an old overweight lady named Otilia. She was somewhat senile, but she said she wanted to listen to our message. So, after lunch with Familia Zuñiga, we went downstairs and I then listened to this old lady tell aimless, rambling stories about her life, not allowing us a word in edgewise to share our message. The capstone of our disheartening afternoon was our visit with Lydia and Jared, who are very disanimated by the obstacles that they face. They are at the point of decision—follow or give up? It’s been, for the most part, an exciting week. We have two people with baptismal dates, one of which I have yet to meet. Elders Griffin and Bravo had met a young fruit vendor by the name of Jorge who wanted to be baptized. Since he lived in our part of Huejutla, they passed the reference to us. We gave twentythree charlas, which is a personal record. I love the work. I hope to get my area to progress a little this week. Huejutla is awesome. Monday, April 28, 1997 It was another very rapid P-Day. We left early to wash our clothes at the house of a sister. Lupita Lopez lived in an elegant two-story home a block away from our own one-story, weather-beaten bungalow. Her two eldest sons were enrolled in Benimerito, an LDS boarding school in Mexico City, so we only met them a handful of times. Her three youngest, however, still lived at home. She owned a single washing machine—no dryer—which was located on the side of the home, just outside the kitchen door. Lupita and Pilar also owned two cars—a rundown old Mazda and a shiny new suburban. They were the most affluent members in the Huejutla branch. Hermana Lupita takes pride in her washing machine and mistakenly claims that Huejutla is the only area where the elders do not have to wash their own clothes. Truth is, I preferred the Laundromats in Matamoros, where we could do multiple loads of laundry at a time and thus save time, even if it cost a few extra pesos. When we were done at Hermana Lupita’s house, we went home and hung our laundry to dry in our backyard. Afterwards, I had time for a quick nap, ate lunch at the above-mentioned sister’s house (spinach and rice), and returned home, showered, banked, and meeted (just the two of us). We went to work, and I wanted to hit a guy for his haughty attitude. We ate mango-flavored ice cream, courtesy of Hermano Zuñiga, and had an FHE with Lydia and Jared at the house of Familia Zuñiga. I wrote letters to Suzie and Mrs. Joseph, my high school Spanish teacher.

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Extracts from a Letter to my Parents “And speaking of lessons learned, now that I’ve seen the mission from the eyes of a senior comp, I wish I could go back and do some things differently with Elders Lopez and Jimenez. Oh well, lesson learned. It’s time to move onward. “Another lesson learned: don’t yell “mangos” at a group of Mexican girls. There are a couple of members who keep promising to buy me mangos, since they are my favorite fruit (along with guava and papaya). When we walked past their house, I yelled, in the spirit of good, wholesome fun, “Mangos!” My comp informed me that “mango” is an equivalent for “broad” or “chick” or some other construction site worker, white-trash mating call. I had heard that before, but I guess I forgot. “I ate menudo again this week. It wasn’t as bad this time. A few months ago, my friend Jeff, who lives in Texas, gave me some pointers on how to eat menudo. The small pieces, you just swallow whole. The bigger pieces, you chew for a while, then swallow nearly whole. It was still disgusting, and I declined the offer for a second bowl. Thank goodness for convenience stores and “marias,” a cheap but delicious cookie. A pack of thirty costs N$1.50, about twenty American cents. “After some thought, I’ve decided that Huejutla is poorer than Soto la Marina. Many people here don’t have running water. They bathe in the rivers, even full-grown women. For laundry, they either wash in the river, or haul buckets back to the house. Every house has a container in which to collect rainwater. It’s amazing to watch the women carry huge bundles of clothes or buckets of water, on their heads. “I miss you all, but at the same time, there is no other place I’d rather be, and nothing I’d rather be doing than this—preaching the gospel of Jesus Christ to the humble people of Huejutla de Reyes.” Tuesday, April 29, 1997 I went on a split today, which I haven’t done in some time. I worked with my district leader, Elder Bravo. He was a quiet, skinny elder from Xalapa, the capitol of the state of Veracruz. I was uncomfortable with him most of the day, mostly because he was so quiet. I think the highlight of the day was that I finally taught a second charla. We taught Otilia, an old Evangelical lady, who lived beneath the Zuniga family’s apartment. She half-way accepted our invitation to baptism. We’ll need to work a lot with her. We also had a brush with anti-Mormon literature. It was an antiProtestant book that an investigator was reading, so it was also anti-TJ. TJ stood for Testigo de Jehovah, which is, of course, Spanish for Jehovah’s Witness. We had some fun trying to resolve her doubts. For the most part, it was a fun day. All my pens seem to have died on me at once, all except this green one, a legacy from Elder Ramos. This journal entry was written in three different colors of ink. As I wrote it, each one died on me, except for my green pen, which had been given to me by Elder Ramos several months previously.

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Wednesday, April 30, 1997 Oh wow! I had a great interview with President Goodman. I love the guy so much! We talked of the importance of kneeling in prayer with investigators. President Goodman taught me that an investigator needs to feel that prayer is something special, something unique and sacred, and the best way of doing that was by kneeling in prayer whenever it was practical. We talked about how the work is different in the Huasteca; I have to be patient here. Traditions in this little town were so much stronger than in Matamoros, and it would take a lot more for an investigator to break away from those traditions. We are going to try and implement a program in which we teach people how to read, and teach them the gospel at the same time. Afterwards, I heard about the formation of the third, fourth, and fifth quorums of the Seventy. How exciting! Elder Griffin’s father was called to serve in one of those new quorums, along with Elder Burch’s girlfriend’s dad. I read the Church News about this conference; it sounds like it was a powerful one. I’m sorry I missed it. Oh well, I’m doing something important and essential. I received a grip of letters. Cow pasture at sunset—gorgeous. Thursday, May 1, 1997 Life just doesn’t get much better. I discovered the beauty of ripe, plump, yellow mangos. I love mangos. I’ve already become famous in the branch for my love of mangos. I don’t know how I’ll live without them in a year; I ate four of them today, and I’m contemplating a fifth. It was a rather fast day, though low in productivity. We taught some charlas, made some contacts, and so forth. We’re getting the numbers, but I think we could be progressing better. We had a good visit with the less-active daughter of President Aradíaz, the soft-spoken counselor in the district presidency. I really felt the spirit as we read D&C 121 and 122 together. Lucero’s husband had been baptized a few months before, and so we tried to visit the family at least once a week. They lived in El Pintor, just three blocks further up the dirt road from her parent’s home. The dirt road continued past their house, off to rural areas that we never visited. Their home was in a transitional state, as were many homes in Mexico. They had started with a one-room affair on a large plot of land, and had begun adding to it. During the time that I knew the family, they were working on a large room that would serve as a gathering place for the extended family. Although they were inactive, they still felt close to the church, and their eldest son was named Lehi. Pleasant moments walking down deserted streets—Huejutla goes to bed early.

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Friday, May 2, 1997 This morning I went crazy and cleaned and organized my room. Ever since coming to Huejutla, I’ve felt that I wasn’t organized. That’s all changed, and I’m feeling pretty good now. I left the house this morning in a good humor also, but about a half an hour later, it was as if a switch turned off. I lost all ánimo and energy, and I just couldn’t get the spirit. I think it may have been a test, to find out what I’d do when I had no desire to work. I would have failed, but my companion kept me going. As such, the switch turned on in the evening, and we taught a superb first charla. I taught the Joseph Smith story better that I’ve ever done; we had tears and eager requests for a return. My prayers are with this family. As worthless as the day was, this event redeemed it all. It was awesome! Saturday, May 3, 1997 Realizing that I wasn’t doing any of the things I wanted to do as a senior comp, I went to a papelería and bought a few things for effective planning. I’ve decided to be more goal-oriented. After all my talk in Matamoros about what I would do differently as a senior companion, I forgot to implement any of my ideas. It’s easy to sit in the passenger seat and analyze the situation, but when I finally got in the driver’s seat, I was so caught up in juggling everything I had to do, that I didn’t have the time to stop and analyze the situation. We will now make our goals first and plan according to and around them. Today was relatively crazy. We went to Pintor (in Veracruz) in the morning to deliver an important message to President Aradíaz, then went to the other side of the area, a place called Parque de Poblamiento, and then a few hours later we returned to Pintor for lunch. Parque de Poblamiento was a government-built neighborhood on the outskirts of Huejutla. Two years before, the Rio Tecoluco had flooded, and undercut the banks of the stream bed. Many homes were destroyed, and many people were left with no place to live. Parque de Poblamiento was the government’s solution. Everyone who lost their home in the flood was relocated to the fledgling neighborhood. To get to the neighborhood, we took a micro that paralleled the Pista, took us through some farmlands, and eventually dropped us off in the remote neighborhood. We tried walking there once, but it was too long of a distance to traverse on foot. The investigator we had out there was Jorge the Fruit Vendor, a contact that Elders Griffin and Bravo had passed on to us earlier. It was hard to find Jorge at home, so we eventually transferred our attention to his sister Nadia. The day before we had taught them both a wonderful first discussion. Nadia cried, and Jorge eagerly asked us to return. We were excited about the prospect of working with the two siblings.

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We helped a little with the Primary party in the chapel, visited less-actives, and ended with two charlas. The miracle is that that’s not a good day—it would have been in Matamoros. Sunday, May 4, 1997 Elder Griffin is on the phone with his family because they will be out of town next week. It’s got me all sorts of trunky and I can’t wait for Mother’s Day next week when I can call my own family. As far as the day goes—it was your regular down-to-earth Sunday, with a rainstorm. We had all classes indoors with almost nothing separating the primary from the adult Sunday school. After the rainstorm, it turned HOT again. We were invited to dinner by Naftali Gomez and his family. A very poor family, they really couldn’t afford to give us what they had—they needed it themselves! Additionally, we learned that Naftali was very generous in his fast offering this week. Naftali and his family had been less active for a long time, but he had recently brought his family back to church. He desired blessings from his Heavenly Father, and knew that he could not receive them unless he was living his life in accordance to God’s will. This was also the reason why he gave such a generous fast offering; he knew that the Lord would bless him for doing so. I’ve abandoned my old form of personal study, and took a stop towards greater efficiency. I only read from the Book of Mormon in the morning (5 pages) and New Testament/D&C/PofGP in the evening (3 pages). The extra time that’s left over is devoted to the study of the scripture by topic. For example, this coming weeks I will study “covenants.” Other weeks will be “service” or “Holy Ghost” or something along those lines. I’d really like to develop more in the area of “quiet dignity.” At the beginning of my mission, I worked hard in that area, but less so in recent months. Well, I’m still battling with some residual homesickness—I guess I’ll close this guy up. Monday, May 5, 1997 Well, what a swell day. I guess the big news is that Elder Monroy got transferred. I’m going to receive a new companion. Brand new, in fact. Fresh from the MTC. This new calling scares me a bit, but I know that the Lord will qualify those whom he calls to serve. I had barely gotten used to the idea of being a senior companion when President Goodman called me to be a trainer. This would be a role that I would reprise on numerous occasions, setting a mission record for number of new elders trained. However, that was still very much in the future, and I knew only that I needed the Lord’s help in this new calling. We had a fairly good follow-up visit with Nadia and Jorge, the excellent charla from Friday. We hope to make some progress with them this week. I actually had some time to nap today, part of which I used to dream of BYU. Sent off a grip of cartas—Ady, Shawn, and Rebekah. I hope to receive a

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few tomorrow while I’m up in Tampico exchanging companions. Well, I guess this is the opening of yet another chapter of my mission. All’s well that ends well.

Extracts from a Letter to my Parents “Soon we will be moving out of our metal shed chapel. We’ve found a meeting house which we’ll use for the next year and a half while the new chapel is being built. It’s a very exciting event for all concerned. I can’t wait to visit in a couple of years and see the completed structure. “My Spanish is improving, although I still make some funny mistakes. The word for ear (oreja) is similar to sheep (orveja), and cherry (cereza) and beer (cerveza), sit (sentar) and feel (sentir). I’m sure you can imagine the comic potential inherent in the misuse of these words. “I’ve learned not to take things for granted. At one time, I assumed that if someone had a toilet, then it would flush. Not so. Many people have to fill up a bucket of water, dump it in the bowl, and this triggers the flushing mechanism “To tell you the truth, my life only gets exciting on occasion. We work twelve hours a day, normally we make fifteen contacts, teach four discussions, spend a few hours with less actives, and get rejected a lot. Don’t misunderstand me, though. I love my job. I love being in the service of my Heavenly Father. It’s just that really cool mission stories are not everyday happenings. When they do happen, though, you forget all the bad, and you know with every certainty the reason you are serving.”

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Elder Barrett on the Pista, gazing at the gathering storm clouds

Elder Barrett displaying the view from the Gomez family home

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