12--season Of Joy

Chapter Twelve Season of Joy

The Sunday Market in Huejutla is a wonder to behold! It stretches from the statue of Miguel Hidalgo near the main highway, crosses the yellow bridge over the Rio Tecoluco, and terminates at the foot of the ancient Cathedral. On other days of the week, the narrow cobblestone street is navigable by most types of automobiles. However, on Sundays, it is a chore to even traverse the street on foot. Tents and stalls and stables are erected all along the two-mile stretch of narrow street. Indian women come down from their mountain homes to spread their wares on colorful blankets. Fruits and vegetables, exotic and common, are sold by toothless old men and women in their white cotton clothes. Plastic trinkets, steaming hot corn, sombreros, serapes, second-hand clothes brought down from the border, baby chickens, slaughtered pork. Anything and everything necessary for the smooth functioning of a Mexican household is available at the Sunday market. I had planned my entire trip so that I would be in Huejutla on Sunday so that I could once again behold the pageantry and festivity of this ageless Sunday Market. I wandered aimlessly through the shops and stalls and tents, fascinated once again by the diversity of colors and smells and sounds. I knew that by five o’clock, the market would be gone, the street would be littered with trash, and another week would pass before the spectacle would return. After an hour of reminiscing, I glanced at my watch and proceeded towards Huejutla’s new LDS chapel. It was time for sacrament meeting to begin. Construction on the new chapel had begun while I had served as a missionary in Huejutla. I had seen the blueprints, befriended the construction supervisor, even walked the grounds and examined the site, but I never had a chance to attend a meeting in the dedicated chapel. I knew that the people of Huejutla deserved such a building, and I was glad to finally see the completed work. It was marvelous. The previous night I had attended a baptism in the building. I didn’t know the person being baptized, nor did I know the missionaries performing the ordinance, but I

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knew that the Huejutla branch was growing, and I wanted to once more witness the unfolding of the Kingdom of God in the Huasteca. Some days before, the branch president had asked me to prepare a talk for the Sunday services. Thus, I not only came to the new meetinghouse to worship with my beloved Huejutla branch, but also to speak to them, teach them once more the principles of the gospel. I chose to speak on the topic that was foremost on my mind—joy through the gospel of Jesus Christ. As the meeting finished, I greeted many old friends, many of whom I had not been able to visit during the previous days. As I stood in a circle of old acquaintances, someone tapped my shoulder. I turned to see the smiling face of a middle-aged woman. At first I did not recognize her, and then, slowly realization dawned on me. The person standing before me looked nothing like the person I remembered. When last I saw her she was dour faced, grumpy, and actively hiding from the missionaries while we taught her husband. And now, she stood before me, apologizing for her actions. I hugged her, astounded at the physical change that joy could bring to one’s countenance. There had come over her such profound happiness, that her entire being radiated with the Light of Christ. She was no longer the same person I once knew, but rather, she was a disciple of our Savior, transformed through his atoning sacrifice. I thought about her during the remainder of my meetings that day. As I walked out of the chapel, and once more wandered the streets of Huejutla. So much had changed since the days I walked these streets, preaching the gospel of Jesus Christ. And so much was changing still. But there were constants, like the Sunday Market in the shadow of the old cathedral, both of which had endured for generations. Long after the Sunday Market ceases, long after the stones of the ancient cathedral have been ground to dust, long after this earth passes away, the Atonement of Christ will endure. Its power to transform, to lift, to redeem, will last for an eternity. And I, having partaken and witnessed of that astonishing power, will serve my Master, forever grateful for the miracle of redemption that he has wrought in my life.

Friday, June 20, 1997 What a downer day! I just don’t feel like we got a whole lot accomplished. We tried to teach a number of charlas, but for one reason or another failed. For example, we started talking amiably to a guy who said he couldn’t answer our questions. He asked for identification! The gentleman we were contacting was paranoid and thought we were lying to him about being missionaries. Elder Avila and I laughed about this guy for months afterwards. When we saw each other in zone conferences in subsequent areas, we always asked to see each other’s I.D. We received a reference from Elodia; we started teaching a young mother. Thus, Agrapiña was introduced to us. Piña had lived a tough life. She was married at the age of thirteen, gave birth to her daughter Jennifer shortly thereafter, and then separated from her husband. When we first met her, she had remarried, but her husband was in the military and stationed in a distant locale. She had nowhere else to go, no way to provide for her daughter. And so Elodia took her in, allowed Piña to live in her partially completed home. There was

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another lady living there as well, an older woman who was trying to extort money out of Elodia. As we began teaching Piña the charlas, this woman filled the air with lies about the church. So, we’ve got a two-faced devil working against us on this front—but we’ll win because we have an honest and sincere truth seeker and a happy and open Relief Society president. We taught the second charla to the Nieto family—don’t need to say more about that. Although they ostensibly had a baptismal date, they were reluctant to learn the doctrines of the Restored Gospel. They wanted a place to worship on Sundays, and were willing to submit to baptism if that was the cost of worshipping with us, but they were not yet willing to forsake the incorrect doctrines or false traditions that they had learned in their former ecclesiastical engagements. There are days like this I guess, but the sun also rises! Tomorrow will be grand! Saturday, June 21, 1997 Well, that was a swell day. We only gave a handful of charlas, but Carolina’s fifth was one of them. She’s real excited about her upcoming baptism. Now that we have Tamazunchale’s baptismal font, we’ll be able to plan for baptisms better. This week we have some five people who have baptismal goals—Teófila, Elvira, Xochitl, Yarazet, and Carolina. I’m very optimistic. Elodia’s friend, Agrapiña, is loosening up and beginning to feel comfortable with us. Tomorrow, we plan to invite her to baptism. Elodia had evicted the ungrateful tenant who had been causing her grief, and thereafter we were able to make much faster progress with Agrapiña. Elodia was always the kindest of souls, but we had to step in and convince her that it was in everyone’s best interest to get rid of the no-good, two-timing free-loader. We tried to visit Nadia, wanted to teach her the first new member discussion. She wasn’t home—we talked to her sister, Pollo. To this day, I cannot remember her real name, but ever since she was a little child, her family had called her Pollo, which means “chicken” in Spanish. She had been opposed to her sister’s baptism, but was beginning to warm to the missionaries. I think we might make some progress with her. I developed photos today! Good yield. Sunday, June 22, 1997 Just a regular Sunday. I got hit with a migraine in the middle of sacrament meeting. I didn’t want to say anything, so I didn’t. I went ahead and taught the Gospel Essentials class. I taught it about the life of Jesus Christ—the Nieto family was present. I don’t understand why they keep coming to church if they don’t want to embrace the doctrines of the restoration. They just say, “Well, I learned it in a different way.” Ever learning, and never coming to a knowledge of the truth. Because I was still sick, we went home after lunch. I would feel bad about being sick so much, but we had an excellent week. We taught twenty-seven charlas, baptized one person, received two references, had sixty hours of proselyting, and found a partridge in a pear tree.

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I borrowed a book about Biblical geography from Hermano Ochoa. He’s cool. He’s the construction supervisor for the new chapel and served in the Huasteca over ten years ago. He has a lot of cool stories about the early days of the Church in this part of Mexico. He was renting a home next door to the Monterubios. Originally from Guadalajara, Hermano Ochoa was from one of the “old” Mormon families in Mexico. His father was an Area Authority, his brother a mission president. His wife, Isabel, and three children—Karen (8), Alilee (5), and Spencer (1)—had joined him for the summer, and they became an integral part of the branch family. The book that he had lent me that day only enflamed my already growing desire to make a pilgrimage to the Holy Land. Someday I want to visit the land of Jerusalem and walk where Jesus walked. Elder Bravo has really annoyed me these last few weeks. I don’t want to be negative—again it’s probably just a personality thing. If I were more Christlike, I would love him more. Both he and Elder Avila were growing closer, and as the two of them strengthened their friendship and developed their esoteric injokes, so too did my annoyance with the both of them increase. The two of them always had a lot of fun together, but I too often felt left out because I did not understand their humor. I started reading Doctrines of Salvation by Joseph Fielding Smith. It’s in Spanish. I love it! I’m learning a lot of cool new stuff. Well, gotta go, it’s late. Monday, June 23, 1997 I enjoyed a very lazy P-Day. Spent time in both my Bible geography book and Doctrines of Salvation. It was our turn to wash clothes at Lupita’s house. I was lazy and didn’t write to my parents. I’ll do it tomorrow in the morning. I don’t know what’s happening, I’m procrastinating like never before. I still need to write a letter to the Prez—quite possibly the last I’ll ever write to him. We had a downpour in the evening. Nevertheless, my fearless comp and I braved the rain and mid-street lakes and rivers to have a family home evening with Teófila. We wrapped our borrowed VCR in a black trash bag, put it into my backpack, and went out for the evening. We did our best to stay dry, but in some places, we had no other choice but to brave the ankle-deep water in the middle of the streets. It was a miserable journey to Teófila’s house, but both Elder Avila and I knew that blessings would come from our sacrifice. We showed the video “Together Forever.” It was cool. Long day, I suppose. I’ll go to bed now. Tuesday, June 24, 1997 In the morning we visited Pintor, then went exploring in Coco Chico. We taught several first charlas in the morning, and we have plans to return tomorrow after lunch. During this excursion out in the boonies, I had my first encounter with the Mexican Revolution. I didn’t see guerrillas, nor anyone shouting revolutionary phrases, but we did contact a woman whose husband had been killed and her land confiscated. During our walk back into town, Elder Avila lectured me on the correlation between race and class in Mexico. It was at that

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moment, listening to my companion talk about how the mestizo and Indian are still oppressed, and reflecting upon the many peoples and cultures of Huejutla, it was at that time that I first began to understand and love the Mexican soul. The struggle to survive, to hold onto the rich traditions of a dying past, were juxtaposed with a desire for the good life, for the modern conveniences of the western world. Elder Avila was very leftward thinking in his politics, and though I espoused many opposing viewpoints, his words moved me. I cannot remember exactly what he said that day, but I do remember the feelings that they stirred. Hermana Yolanda made us pizza. It was rad—even though her pizzas had corn and other vegetables on them. Her daughter wrote us love notes. She’s only eight; sheesh. She was giggling and blushing, and not at all serious. I think, more than anything, she was trying to embarrass the elders, since we had done such a good job of embarrassing her in the past. In fact, at one point, I started calling Ishtar by the name “Holstein” because I caught her eating grass one Sunday afternoon. She had no idea what the word meant, but after I explained it to her, she chased after me, hitting me, and then began plotting her revenge. In the afternoon, I went working with Elder Griffin. Elder Avila’s assessment of him was correct. He is very relaxed in his teaching style. However, there was never any doubt in anyone’s mind about his sincerity and love. Of all the Americans that passed through Huejutla that year, he had the strongest bond with Carolina and the Nieto Family. I would never have baptized Maria and Virginia were it not for Elder Griffin. We taught the third charla to an ex-drunk—the one who contacted us some Sundays ago. He made it through one more charla before his mother-in-law made him cut off contact with the Mormons, after which he descended once more into his drunken nosedive of self-destruction. Upon arriving home hungry, I opened the fridge and found the Jell-O I had prepared that morning. We each grabbed a cup of the substance, and began eating it. However, it had not fully set, so we ended up drinking it. In a fit of silliness, we finished the day by gurgling green Jell-O to the tune of “Praise to the Man.” A very fun and interesting day. I hope Carolina had her charla today. My comp ran the area. Though he was on a division with Elder Bravo, his was a substantial responsibility, and perhaps the strongest measure of my trust in him. I knew that he would work hard, take care of our investigators, and even come home with some new families for us to teach. I know he did okay. I trust him. Wednesday, June 25, 1997 All I wanted was a bowl of cereal—but fate conspired against me—first by placing salt in the sugar jar. I didn’t realize my mistake until after I had ingested a large spoonful of corn flakes. After dumping that bowl down the sink, I poured myself another bowl, sat on the ground (the elders from San Felipe were staying the night and seating was scarce) and then my companion tripped over me on his way to the kitchen for his own evening repast. The cornflakes spilled all over the floor, and I gave up the meal as a lost cause. Oh well.

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We had a great day working. We broke another record—ten charlas! It was awesome! Some of these charlas were better than others. In the evening, we divided. I had used the technique before with Elder Jimenez in Matamoros. We would sit on opposite sides of a room and teach two different groups of investigators two different discussions. Elder Avila taught a fourth charla to María Elena, while I taught the fifth to her aunt Teófila on the other side of the room. That’s when the bomb dropped. Teófila is not married to her husband! It’ll put us back a week or two, but it’s not an impossible hurdle. She had not mentioned this to us before because she was ashamed of the fact that she and Ernesto had never sanctified their union. She only told me that night because Elder Avila and the kids were on the opposite side of the room. My stomach sank, and I felt that all was lost. The optimism that I expressed in my journal was due to reassurances from my ever-positive companion. I had never tackled a problem like this as a senior companion, but was blessed by the fact that Teófila and Ernesto wanted to be married, and neither of them had previous marriages to be annulled. Other fronts that day also proved to be frustrating as well—Carolina has lost her baptismal desires. By the end of that discouraging day, I had come to one conclusion—Everything is falling apart on me again! Elders Kennedy and Maxil are spending the night. The highpoint of the day was the knowledge that we had a conference the following day, and that the elders from San Felipe would be spending the night in our home. Despite the fact that we would be saying our farewells to the Goodmans the following day, a festive air permeated our little concrete house. Thursday, June 26, 1997 We went to Tempoal today to say “good-bye” to President Goodman. We had a wonderful testimony meeting—the Spirit was very strong. I directed the hymns—which I did energetically and nearly perfectly. This was the first time I had directed hymns and a piano at the same time. I had made lots of progress in the year since Elder Tonks taught me how to direct music. The Prez gave us advice on searching for a wife, and left us with his testimony. His remarks mirrored the remarks he usually gave departing missionaries, but since he would not have the chance to speak to us at the end of our missions, he spoke to us at the end of his. He advised us to search for a young woman of spiritual discernment, one with whom we could be best friends. His concluding testimony was powerful, and left many of us in tears. We had two closing hymns—“Called to Serve” and “God Be With You Till We Meet Again.” I directed these hymns as well. I received my birthday packages today—shoes, a tie, food, and a book about Rex and Janet Lee. Rex Lee was president of Brigham Young University during my first semester in Provo. He died of cancer in February of 1996, only a few months after resigning from his position. The book was about his marathon

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of faith, and how he and his wife dealt with the challenges of cancer. I’ve been reading it almost non-stop since. After the conference, Elder Avila and I returned home, changed into our grubbies, and went to Teófila’s home. We gave service with Ernesto in the evening. We prepared the walls of the house to be painted. It was a way for us to show our love to the family, and demonstrate our good faith to Ernesto. I love Pappy Goodman. I’m going to miss him so much. Friday, June 27, 1997 I’m getting awfully frustrated with the weather. It shines all day long, and then there comes a sudden fifteen-minute cloudburst. Such was life in the tropics, a fact that I didn’t understand until years later when I took a course on climatology at BYU. Cold air holds less water than warm air, so when the day starts to cool down in the afternoon, the air can no longer hold all the water that evaporated during the hot day. The result was a daily afternoon shower. The weather wouldn’t be so bad except that the water stays in the street for hours afterwards. The street that leads to our house is particularly bad—I was up to my ankles in water. I wore my new shoes today—I nearly died. They still aren’t broken in and I blistered, which I haven’t done in so long. I walked across the street at lunch time to fetch some tortillas for Hermana Lupita. As she watched me waddle over to the tortillería, she asked my companion if I was sick. He laughed, and explained to her that I was breaking in a new pair of shoes. We taught the second charla to Mateo and Maria—they accepted a baptismal date again. We had invited them to baptism previously, lost contact with them, and then began teaching them once more. Mateo was the oldest son of the Gomez family, and lived with his parents together with his wife, Maria, and their two-year old son. Though he waffled on us, and rarely kept his commitments, we had hope that he would be baptized and lead the rest of his family back into full activity in the church. Who knows if he’ll follow through with his commitments. We had a pretty tough day—so Elder Avila and I had a good talk and identified the areas where we need to improve. I’m looking forward to bettering ourselves. We taught the first new-member charla to Nadia tonight. It was pretty cool. With no stake missionaries in Huejutla, teaching the new member discussion fell to the regular full-time missionaries. These discussions were designed to integrate new members into the ward family. In Nadia’s case, it didn’t work. She started meeting with the Jehovah’s Witnesses shortly thereafter. Saturday, June 28, 1997 Well, a pretty lazy day. We started it by visiting Teófila’s house and doing some chores so that she’ll be able to attend church tomorrow. With her new job at a local beauty salon, Teófila’s only day to do household chores was Sunday. To help her attend her meetings, and to once more demonstrate our love

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for her and her family, Elder Avila and I did her laundry, cleaned her living room, and preformed various other odd jobs about the house. The children, excited to see the missionaries helping out their mother, also lent a helping hand. Other than that, we just didn’t get a lot accomplished. Yesterday, Yarazet told us she wanted to wait until October for her baptism—she wants a quinceñera, with all the Catholic accoutrements. We couldn’t fight her on this, and stopped visiting with her. Without our continued presence, her brother and sister-in-law fell back into inactivity. It didn’t rain today—which is miraculous. The sky is a very beautiful shade of blue, with large puffy white clouds. The sunset was beautiful. Of all the things I remember clearest, of all the things I miss most, of all the things that have stayed in my mind with a vivid clarity born of love, first among these things is the beautiful sunsets that blanketed the Huasteca. The sky was a clear blue, and across its canopy swept clouds in pinks, and reds, and oranges. I miss the Huastecan sunset, even though I see it again every day in the vaults of my memory. Yesterday I finished Marathon of Faith. Great book. Made me cry. The general message was how to find happiness and joy in the midst of affliction. Elder Griffin is reading it now. Elder Avila told me horror stories, probably all of them urban legends, about mission presidents in other parts of Mexico. It made me realize how lucky we’ve been to have had President Goodman. Sunday, June 29, 1997 Teófila and Co. were in church today. Later in the afternoon we went to visit them—we planted a tree, had a good time, and got my haircut. Although Teófila was working at a hair salon in the Centro, her job only entailed cleaning. However, she was learning, and I volunteered to be a test subject. I sat in her back yard that afternoon, and Teófila cut my hair. It was a pretty average day— I’m happy it didn’t rain. In the evening Elder Avila’s father called the house. He tried to talk to me, but we thought it was all some joke. He had a care package that he wanted to send to Elder Avila, but knew it was against the rules to talk to his son. So he called our house, and tried to speak to anyone but his son, so as to keep Elder Avila from breaking the mission rules. My companion thought it was a joke being played by a companion from the MTC. He grabbed the phone from me, with the intent of proving the caller an imposter, only to discover it really was his father. I really need to find diplomatic and tactful ways to explain mission rules to our investigators. I almost screwed things up big time tonight. I was teaching Teófila’s little children how to waltz, much as I had done with Dulce Alejandra in Abasolo. However, when Teófila’s teenage niece jumped into the lesson, expecting to dance with me, I abruptly withdrew. I think the quickness of my reaction offended her. I made a similar mistake with Celinda. Celinda was an investirgator we had been teaching the previous month. On my birthday, she reached out to give me a hug, and I quickly withdrew. Our relationship with her became cold after that.

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President Goodman leaves tomorrow—that is, the new president comes in and takes control. Goodman doesn’t leave until Tuesday. Although I wrote to him a couple of times throughout the rest of my mission, and several months after, I never saw him again. He sent me a wedding present, and that was the last I ever heard from him. He was a great man, a great leader, and I feel his impact everyday of my life. President Lincoln R. Goodman taught me how to think critically and logically about the gospel, how to find answers for myself, through both study and prayer. The reputation I earned on my mission as a gospel scholar was only possible because my first mission president taught me how to study, reason, and conclude. I loved him, and will always be thankful for the influence and impact he had on my life. I’m sending away for another book—this one about Book of Mormon geography. I finally decided to buy a book that I had been drooling over in my FARMS catalog for nearly half a year. Entitled An Ancient American Setting for the Book of Mormon, it was written by an LDS archaeologist by the name of John Sorenson. The book was a study of plausible Book of Mormon sites in the Americas, with the emphasis on plausibility, not probability. We had a fair week—twenty-five charlas. We just got so lazy after the conference. We are looking for a way to overcome that laziness. My comp is a stud—I hope that we’re together a long time. I hope that we stay in contact over the years. I hope we baptize Teófila soon, she’s one of the coolest investigators that I’ve ever had. I hope this beautiful weather continues. I hope. Monday, June 30, 1997 The laziest of my Huejutlan P-Days. I got in not just one, but three naps! Part of that is due to the fact that we only spent an hour in the Centro. It was our week to run errands downtown, and Elders Griffin and Bravo had taken care of the rent and water bills the previous week, so there was very little for us to do this week. I took a nap before going to the Centro, afterwards, and then later in the day, shortly before leaving for district meeting. Tonight, at 6:00, the change of presidency took place. The two presidents had a brief three-hour meeting, and then President Goodman turned the reins over to President Gillespie. I had to write my letter to the latter. I’ll actually meet him in another week. I started collecting “Jugetes” from Pan-Bimbo. The major Mexican bread company was having a “Hercules” promotion, to advertise for the upcoming Disney movie. Each package of sweetbreads or donuts contained one of twentyseven different plastic keepsakes, and I made it my mission to collect all twentyseven. My comp likes to complain a lot. His parents didn’t send him money. So he’s decided not to write to them. It’s caused him to be in a bad mood. He’s not fun anymore. Elder Griffin developed photos today. He got a good yield. I guess I’m just a putz when it comes to cameras. I need to refocus—I lost my concentration some time back. I’m going to have an excellent week!

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Extracts from a Letter to my Parents “My birthday packages finally arrived. They got to Brownsville okay, Magda had no problems picking them up and bringing them to Matamoros. She gave them to Elder Rule, who gave them to President Goodman. The problem came at a customs station between Matamoros and Tampico. However, they’re here and I enjoyed them immensely. “My companion, bless his heart, can be a little weird at times. A few weeks ago, I had a migraine. Being the helpful and solicitous lad that he is, he looked up my ailment in a book of his. This book contains mantras, which when repeated during meditation, can cure a variety of ailments and sicknesses. After he told me how I could free myself of migraines, I thanked him, popped a pill, and took a nap . “Last night, he told me that we need to be more positive. I agreed to try and be more up-beat. And then today, we went to the bank, where he discovered that his father hadn’t sent him any money and he became very down and negative. Oh well, I’m learning to live with all types. I’ll just be sure not to marry an ultra-liberal, green-peace-loving, meta-physics-believing hippie-woman. Elder Avila and I are getting along extremely well, all things considered. It’s just that sometimes he bugs the heck out of me, just like he would if he were my brother.” Tuesday, July 1, 1997 We stumbled across some domestic violence today. We were climbing the hill to the home of a part-member family, when we heard some yelling and screaming. The ten-year old son, who had seen us coming, cried for us to hurry. He was always such a sensitive soul, and I imagine that the scene had deeply affected him. His eldest brother Marco hit his wife, Maria, with the buckle of his belt, full swing, in the face. We came upon it just minutes afterwards, and Marco wouldn’t leave his room. The other children reported to us what had happened. Maria was watching their young child learn to walk. When the babe teetered, fell, and bumped his head, Marco was angered and punished his wife with a belt swing to the face. The parents were out of the house, and we found ourselves in the middle of an intensely personal and uncomfortably awkward situation. The children looked at us expectantly, hoping that we would do something. We tried to talk to Marco through the door of his room, but we got no response. Not knowing what else to do, we told the kids to lay low, let tempers cool, and let their parents handle the situation when they got home. Our association with the family grew cold after that. I think they were embarrassed that we had been witnesses to this domestic altercation. Our charlas with them soon ceased, and our influence with the family waned. Other than that, the day was okay. We stopped by the Offices of Civil Records to ask about information about marriages. We could get Teófila married for either 0 or 200 pesos, depending on a few still undecided factors. The civil records office was having a special week-long marriage drive, in which all persons born in Huejutla could be married free of charge. We weren’t sure

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where Teófila and Ernesto had been born, but we were hoping that they had been born in town so we could marry them free of charge. We visited Coco Chico and Coco Grande again and taught a bunch of charlas. I’m still in love with Huejutla and my companion is a perfect compliment. He’s very direct and straightforward, while I am often circumspect and cautious. I have learned a lot from him. Wednesday, July 2, 1997 Revenge is sweet. Tonight we dropped our own bomb on Teófila. It left them scrambling. If all comes together correctly, Teófila will be a married woman by tomorrow night. It’ll certainly be a high point in my mission if we can accomplish it. After checking with Teófila, and confirming that both she and Ernesto had indeed been born in Huejutla, we told them that they could get married this week free of charge. However, the only day that Ernesto had off that week was the very next day. Our own surprise announcement to Teófila left her and her husband scrambling to pull together all the necessary documents, inform their parents, and otherwise prepare for the wedding. Other than that, the day was a washout, literally. It rained on and off all day; the mud was horrendous. We did finish fairly well, charla-wise. We struck out in the morning; we found many, many rude people. Elder Bravo was sick in the morning, and still is a little bit. On the way home that night, my companion slipped and fell on his butt, in a mud puddle. The offending puddle was located on a dirt track, a short cut we took between our home and the Centro, which followed the contours of the Rio Tecoluco. The dirt road had no streetlamps, and so Elder Avila never saw the slick patch of mud until it was too late. We both had a good laugh. I’m having some trouble filling these journal entries. I just seem to run out of things to say. But I can’t turn back now. Onward and upward. Thursday, July 3, 1997 Doo-wah-diddie diddie-dum diddie-doo. Wedding bells chimed today, sort of. We spent the morning getting Teófila and Ernesto married. It was an odd wedding. It was all accomplished in the Civil Records Office. A couple of signatures and poof, they are now husband and wife. We were witnesses, so I got to sign some official Mexican documents. It almost ended before it began, though. We spent over an hour looking for Ernesto’s birth record in the oldest, most inefficient record book that I’ve ever seen. I didn’t believe my eyes when I found it. The handwriting was very clear, so different that it stood out from the other records. While still in the MTC, my biggest fear was having to tell unwed investigators that they had been living in sin, and to help them along the path towards wedded bliss. I knew, as I indicated in a letter to my family, that the success I had this day was due to the aid that the Lord gives to his faithful servants. As an example, I point to Ernesto’s record, which I don’t think we

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would have found if the handwriting had not been so clear. I truly believe that God had his hand in affairs thirty years previous when the record was being made, preparing the way for Teófila’s entry into His Church. In the afternoon, after we had celebrated and eaten lunch, we headed out to Parque de Poblamiento to teach Nadia another new-member discussion. The micros that serviced that part of the city were converted VW buses. When I hunched my way into the vehicle, I reached behind me and slammed the door closed. However, I almost destroyed a Mexican lady’s finger whose hand was in the way. She started screaming in pain. Her little boy, sitting next to her started crying in fear and anguish. The micro driver was able to quickly open the door again. Though there was no lasting damage, the little boy continued to weep, asking over and over again if his mother would be okay. I sheepishly took my seat in the rear of the micro. Upon arriving in Parque de Poblamiento, we found out that Nadia is meeting with the Jehovah’s Witnesses. Despite this setback, I concluded the day by saying I love my job. I’m losing my voice. I’m in love with Huejutla. Friday, July 4, 1997 I witnessed a miracle today. It increased my testimony and for the remainder of the day, I was in a deep, pensive mood. We were visiting Maribel Campos, a recent convert. She was baptized April 6, 1997. We invited her to give a talk at Teófila’s baptism. They’re distant cousins, three or four times removed. She felt a little nervous, it’ll be her first talk. She then asked for a priesthood blessing. She was feeling a little sick, and was worried about her baby. She’s three months pregnant. We placed our hands upon her head, and blessed her. I really tried to listen to the Spirit. Maribel started to cry. When we finished she was gushing. She couldn’t explain it; a sensation filled her body, infused her with joy. All her pain was gone and she was left with this wonderful feeling. I know this to be the power of God and His Priesthood. This was the most powerful moment I had ever experienced while exercising the priesthood of God. It would not be the last as I continued to serve the people of Huejutla. Saturday, July 5, 1997 I’m laying flat on my back at the edge of exhaustion. Not that we did a lot today, but that my body has seem to quit functioning properly. I was sore in every joint, my voice was failing fast, and my digestive system was in revolt. I waddled through the door that evening, thankful for the close of another week. We got the font ready for Teófila’s baptism tomorrow. All’s going well on that front. She had her interview today. Putting together Tamazunchale’s portable font brought back memories of a similar font in Soto la Marina. How I’ve changed and grown since then. I can’t really say what’s changed, but comparing then-me and now-me, I can see a huge difference. In the morning, we crossed the Rio Tecoluco, only we had to do it in bare feet and hiked-up pant legs. Don’t ask, it’s a long story. Which I will tell at this

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time. We were teaching several families who lived on the outskirts of the town. There were two ways to get to the neighborhood. The first was to take the micro halfway to Pintor, and then hike through some narrow rural lanes. The second way to get there was to cross the river north of Carolina’s house. Our usual choice was the latter. Other people did so as well, and there were stones piled in the river to provide for an easy, dry crossing. Our morning proselyting had taken us to this area via micro, and when lunchtime arrived, we headed toward the river, with the intention of crossing it and heading south to the Monterubios. However, we had not considered the heavy rains from the previous days, and the river now covered the previously dry crossing. With no other alternative, we shed shoes and socks, and crossed the Rio Tecoluco. Elder Avila complained the entire time, ruminating on what would happen if he were to catch some gangrenous disease. We did not, however, catch any diseases, and we arrived at our lunch appointment on time. I think I’ll go to bed now. Sunday, July 6, 1997 Teófila was baptized today along with her two daughters—Elvira and Xochitl Yayexi. The third daughter, Alma, would be baptized several months thereafter, when she reached the age of eight. It’s been a long and very satisfying road. If my calculations are correct, we’ve been working with this family since the beginning of May—nearly two months!!! I was tired all day, but lively enough to enjoy this special moment in Teófila’s life. I want to see her husband baptized—it WILL happen someday. The program was planned by yours truly, with Fausto, a returned missionary, directing. Xochitl Aradíaz gave a brief talk about baptism, and then we performed the ordinance in the font under the mango tree. First Teófila , and then the two kids. As a senior comps I usually made my junior companion perform baptisms, since it was always a pain to keep track of a change of clothes, and strip off wet garments. However, the family insisted that I be the one to baptize them, so in this one instance, I relented. Afterwards, Maribel Campos gave a talk (her first ever) about the gift of the Holy Ghost. Then Elder Avila confirmed, President Monterubio welcomed, and all rejoiced exceedingly. We ate lunch with the Monterubios and talked a lot. The president told us his conversion story. Many years ago, he was studying with the Jehovah's Witnesses when he came into contact with the Mormon elders. Missionaries from both religions fought mightily for the soul of this sincere seeker of truth, but in the end, it came down to his honest and heartfelt prayers. The elders had the spirit, and they presented a message of truth. President Monterubio felt that, and followed where it lead. His whole conversion story is really cool. Elder Avila has been a good companion and support for me. His personality matched mine, not in the fact that we were similar, but in the fact that our differences supported and encouraged one another. Despite his leanings to mysticism, he approached missionary work from a very pragmatic angle, an approach that had been foreign to me.

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During the baptismal service, Elder Griffin committed Virginia and her mother to baptism on the 20th, in a few weeks time. I hadn’t been able to get the family to progress, but they had a special bond with Elder Griffin. He was able to coax them forward, and they once again renewed their march towards discipleship. In a few days we’ll meet the new mission president. I wonder what he’ll be like. Elder Avila, too, had worried about what our new mission president would be like. He was worried by all the stories and urban legends that had percolated in his mind, originating from letters from friends in other missions and stories told at the MTC. In the midst of this uncertainty, he had a dream that President and Sister Gillespie would look like the mother and father from the television series “The Wonder Years,” or “Tiempo Maravilloso” as it was known in Spanish. Monday, July 7, 1997 We held a surprise party/FHE for Teófila tonight. We had invited President Monterubio, as well as Hermano Ochoa and Elodia. The Monterubios and the Ochoas brought their entire families, and Elodia brought her daughter, Susana, and her son, Luis. We had a large group of people, and Hermana Monterubio made a cake. We all gathered at Teófila’s home fifteen minutes before she was due to arrive home from work. The children helped us set up, and when their mother arrived, she was truly surprised. She was also filled with joy and amazement at the outpouring of love from her new branch family. We sang a hymn, had a prayer, watched “The Prodigal Son” and ate cake. We had such a huge group of people that we held the party outside—and miraculously it didn’t rain until after all was said and done. Teófila told me that she had been feeling very happy today, even happier than the day she got married, and I explained it as the gift of the Holy Ghost. Hermano Ochoa has a wonderful family; I like the whole bunch of them. At lunch that day, we met Lupita’s sister—the first person to be baptized in the Huasteca. Like Hermano Ochoa, she had many fascinating stories about the infancy of the church in this region of Mexico.

Extracts from a Letter to my Parents “My companion got sick this week, so I whipped out a few letters to missionary friends in all parts of the world—from Pittsburgh to the Philippines, and from Moscow to Washington, as well as Nicaragua, Italy, and Australia. I hope they write back. It’s so fun to say after a zone conference, “Oh, it’s just another letter from India.” Tuesday, July 8, 1997 Spent the day in conference with President H. Aldridge Gillespie and his wife. They are good people. They told us all about their lives. President and Sister Gillespie had known each other in high school, growing up together in 312

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Manti, Utah. He served a mission in the Mexican-American mission, which included states on both sides of the U.S.-Mexican border. They were married soon after he returned home from his mission, and their first child arrived soon after. He received a master’s and doctorate’s degree in civil engineering, taught at the University of Oklahoma, ran the Oklahoma Department of Transportation, and retired as Director of Transportation Safety in the U.S. Department of Transportation. They are very animated about missionary work. Neither speak Spanish very well. A great testimony builder came to me over the following two or three months, as I spoke with investigators, leaders, and other missionaries, who had spoken one on one with the new President. When he spoke in the authority of his office, his Spanish was near-flawless, they said. Many could not believe the tales that we Americans told them concerning the deficiency of the president’s Spanish abilities. Truly, the Lord upholds His servants when they perform His work. Elder Avila was asked to say the opening prayer, and in his remarks, he asked that we would all have a “tiempo maravillosa,” subtly referencing the dream he had had several days previous. Those of us to whom he had related the dream, were forced to stifle our laughter. I struggled not to compare President Gillespie with President Goodman. They are different, but I don’t think either one is better than the other. We had brief, informal interviews with President Gillespie. I like the guy. He told me about the defining moment of his life, while serving as assistant to the president during his own mission. Elder Spencer W. Kimball had visited the mission, and (then) Elder Gillespie was his chauffer for the week. Being in close quarters with such a godly man had a profound impact on the life of young Aldridge. Sister Gillespie had prepared a light lunch for the missionaries. As she placed a couple of hot dogs on my paper plate, I paused, looked closely at the meat, and then looked Sister Gillespie in the eye. “Sister Gillespie,” I said, “I ordered the Beef Wellington.” Sister Gillespie laughed nervously, unsure of how to respond to my impertinent sense of humor. She learned quickly enough, and thereafter she was able to exchange witticisms with the best of us. I received letters from Jeff, Shawna, Weston, Sister Montgomery, and Ryan. I won’t be getting letters for another month, so I’ll have plenty of time to write them all back. In the evening, we passed by and visited Elvira’s graduation party. We ate a pig—one that we had known while still living. Elder Avila and I started building the future Huejutla stake in our minds. We picked out bishops, a stake president (Antonio Monterubio), a Patriarch (Ernesto’s brother-in-law) and concluded that Ernesto himself will be a bishop here someday. This was all done in an attempt to broaden our vision of the work. It had a much greater impact on our labors than did the week we constructed an elaborate pantheon of Mormon saints (among them Saint Parley Pratt, patron saint of missionary work).

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Wednesday, July 9, 1997 It was the best of days, it was the worst of days. Actually, it was just the averagest of days. We invited Piña to baptism—which she accepted. She’s really cool, although she flirts too much. She’s a neighbor and friend of Elodia, so we have some great fellowshipping. Agrapiña was the loneliest of souls, and I was thankful that Elodia took her in and became a second mother to sad little Piña and her daughter Jennifer. We suspected that Piña had a crush on me, and were it not for the positive fellowshipping she was receiving from our saintly Relief Society president, we would have dropped her quickly. Instead, we kept our eyes open and walked very carefully with Piña. We went working in the afternoon, but really didn’t get a great deal accomplished. We visited Nadia and tried to animate her, taught her the second new member charla. Even Pollo listened and participated. We’ve made progress with that chick—we’ll teach her a good first charla on Friday. We also taught Familia Nieto the fourth charla—Virginia has opened up and we hope to baptize her and her mother in two weeks. Life really couldn’t be better. I love my comp, my job, and my God. Thursday, July 10, 1997 Long handshakes. Requests for my address. Promises to name a future son after me. Yep. Piña flirts way too much. But she is progressing well. She was reading, praying, and coming to church. We weren’t going to drop her just because she flirted relentlessly with me. It wasn’t planned,but we taught her the third charla today. It went well. We tried teaching the final charla to María Elena, Teófila’s niece. There were screaming kids everywhere. We did get it done though. We gave an interesting charla in Elder Griffin’s area; she contacted us. I’ve been a little down because I don’t see the church living up to its potential. I want to do my best to lift it and make it the Kingdom of God. No more apostasy of false doctrines. Good day, even if we only taught a few charlas. Friday, July 11, 1997 We’re on a positive kick, my companion and I. We’re trying to imagine Huejutla as a stake and the various members and investigators within that stake. For example—we taught the first charla to Teófila’s brother-in-law. We decided that he’d make a great patriarch because everything that came out of his mouth was a flowery and poetic statement. Ernesto would be a bishop, and President Monterubio would be stake president. We’re trying to eliminate every negative thought from our work. We even picked out a site for the future Huejutla Temple—a beautiful cow pasture surrounded by high hills on three sides. Today was a good day. We taught a charla to Sandra, the cousin of Yadira. She lived in Coco Chico, a small neighborhood straddling the HidalgoVeracruz state line. We’re making progress. We won’t baptize María Elena this

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Sunday. But instead teach the whole family and baptize them together. The family was never baptized. As soon as we shifted focus to the parents, we were no longer able to find them at home. We’re animated still—we’ve got a bunch of baptisms to look forward to. Carolina, Familia Nieto, and Piña. Onward and upward! Saturday, July 12, 1997 Teófila continues to please us immensely; Piña continues to scare us. She’s progressing well, I have no doubt as to her sincerity. I just wish she wouldn’t confuse the Spirit with her hormones. I talked to Elder Griffin about the problem, and he advised me to just keep teaching her the charlas. If we really believed that she had a testimony of the restored gospel, then we had no cause to deny her the opportunity to be baptized, even if she flirted with the representatives who taught her said gospel. Teófila & Co. have already made several defenses of the church and of their testimonies. A few days previous, some Jehovah’s Witness missionaries canvassed their neighborhood, and interrupted Elvira, the eldest of Teófila’s daughters, during her daily reading of the Book of Mormon. She came to the door with her book in hand, and when the Jehovah’s Witnesses saw the book, they tried to convince the young Elvira that it was an evil and awful book. Unfortunately for them, Elvira had actually prayed about the book and had a testimony of its veracity. She simply told her visitors that they were wrong, that she had read the book and knew for herself that it taught good and true things about Jesus Christ. When Teófila related this story to us, we were greatly pleased and excited at the level of the family’s commitment. In addition to these developments, we also learned that Teófila is reading the Liahona and is enjoying it immensely. We found a couple of great families today whose afflictions had truly humbled them. It’s now late—11:10—we stayed and talked with Teófila for a long time. I’m tired but extremely happy. I need to strengthen myself spiritually again; I’ve been lacking in my prayers as of late. I love my Heavenly Father. Sunday, July 13, 1997 Today we celebrated International Day of the PNW, a term my high school friends and I created to describe the crazy girls we had dated. It stands for Psycho Nut Wench. We chose to celebrate July 13th as a day to commemorate and reflect upon all of our disastrous dating experiences. Since this was the first time I had observed the date outside the country, I added the “international” to the holiday’s official name. Because we had no investigators in church, Elder Griffin and I sat around and I related to him my life story, with a focus on disastrous dating experiences. It was rather pleasant. We sat in the backyard of the rented home, where we usually taught Gospel Essentials, while our companions attended the adult

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Sunday school class. It was a fine day, and one more opportunity for Elder Griffin and I to bond. My tale kept him laughing, and we both had a good time. Teófila came to church today, but left after sacrament meeting. I’d like for her to stay longer, but I understand. She works six days a week and needs to get some chores done on Sundays. I think our branch lacks reverence sometimes, but that’s probably just my ethnocentrism rearing its ugly head. I can’t expect every Sunday meeting to be like they were in the states. We’re still growing and learning here in Huejutla de Reyes. In fact, this lack of reverence served as an important teacher of an essential lesson in my life. When I left on my mission, I had bought into Mormon culture with energy and zeal. While not of itself a bad thing, it did lead me to be overbearingly self-righteous with my family, and tended to alienate them rather than inspire them. My experiences in Mexico, especially with the relaxed sacrament meetings and the informal management style of branch and stake presidencies taught me to have a sense of humor and to be less pious and overlyzealous. In the afternoon we ate lunch with the Monterubios again and went to work. I was very tired but we did get in a couple of good visits. I have yet to fill out the datos, but I think I’ll delegate those to my comp; he needs to learn how to do them. It’s been an okay week—seventeen charlas. We’ve been a little low on that count. But we’re promising three baptisms this week. Familia Nieto will finally enter the waters of baptism and enter the fold of Christ. Piña will do the same. I’m pleased with my area, though a little worried that I don’t have a teaching pool any more; it’s all finding and baptizing. We’ll change that this week. We’ll work hard, have a great week, and get find some new families to teach. I’m positive that things will work out. In sacrament meeting that day, I gave a smooth, fluent talk on families. I had been in Huejutla so long that I had already used my two pre-prepared talks— one about the Book of Mormon and the testimony of Christ, and the other about Joseph Smith and the need for a restoration. Monday, July 14, 1997 I’ve re-challenged myself to read the entire Book of Mormon in a single week. The goal is not to understand all the doctrine, but to get an idea of the big picture—to understand the themes and messages of Mormon, and to try to see the overlying structure of the book. I started at 1 p.m. and I’m now in 1 Nephi 18. I had tried this once before, in the MTC, and failed. I would not have any better success this time through. I guess I just don’t like rushing through the book, but rather I love to savor its rich language and profound doctrine. It was a very, very, very, very lazy P-Day. I didn’t do a thing. We went to the Centro in the morning, slept a lot, and wrote a grip of letters—to Shawna, Jeff, Weston, Shawn, Rebekah, and the family. My companion is sitting on the floor meditating again. Tomorrow, por fin, we’ll teach the second charla to Ernesto. We tried to do it tonight but he wasn’t home. After finally getting Teófila into the waters of

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baptism, we shifted our focus to her husband, but were never able to teach him on a regular basis. However, he never resented the time we spent with his wife and children, recognizing that we only intended to strengthen his family. Tuesday, July 15, 1997 The morning passed by quickly in service as we helped President Aradíaz to seed his lawn. It was a pretty laid-back morning. We traveled out to El Pintor in our missionary attire, and changed into grubbies using a spare bedroom in the Aradíaz household. The whole family showed up to help, and the chore turned into a lot of fun. The women prepared refreshments for the men who were hard at work in the front yard. In the afternoon I went on a split in Elder Griffin’s area. We taught a first charla and had a family home evening. The report that my comp brought back weighs heaviest on my mind. We lost family Nieto—the Old Man threw a tissyfit when Elder Bravo had confidential pre-interviews with his wife and daughter. Victor, the head of the Nieto household, believed that Elder Bravo might be teaching secret doctrines to his wife and daughter and did not like the idea. Apparently, we hadn’t adequately explained to him the purpose for the interview. In a fury, he threw Elders Bravo and Avila out of his home and told them to never return. I don’t know how I’m going to salvage this situation. Piña will have her pre-interview tomorrow. She’s found a job, and it won’t require Sunday work. Wednesday, July 16, 1997 Piña finally had her pre-interview today. We’ll need to work fast to teach her the fifth and sixth charlas before Saturday. It shouldn’t be a problem; she has a fairly set schedule nowadays. She had been going to church regularly, and she was definitely prepared for baptism, despite her amorous advances towards the faithful elders who so diligently taught her the gospel. We read the Book of Mormon with Nadia and I think we animated her a bit. I don’t know what I’m going to do with that girl. This may have been one of the last visits we had with her. She was slipping through our fingers fast, and we did not know what else to do with her. We tried everything we could to keep her close to the church, to integrate her more fully into the ward family, and to complete her conversion to the Restored Gospel. In the end, though, I could not force Nadia into full fellowship with the Saints. It was her decision alone. We spent some time talking to Matilda today. She’s absolutely devouring the Book of Mormon. We had to give her family another copy because she won’t relinquish hers so her children could read it as well. Matilda was a devout Baptist and a single mother of two. She was also very headstrong and proud, which lead to her break with Johnson’s Baptist church. The Johnsons were an American family, a Baptist preacher and his wife, who had settled in Huejutla. Some of the kindest, most sincere people I ever met in Huejutla, were members of

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Mr. Johnson’s congregation. I never met the man, but I witnessed the fruits of his labor, and on that basis alone, I came to respect him. We ate hot dogs with the Ochoas today. I am always impressed with their family. They had a perfect balance of love and discipline in their home, and in it I saw a template for my own future family. Someday, I will build my own Camelot. Thursday, July 17, 1997 We went exploring again in Colonia Chapultepec this afternoon. It’s got some really cool mountainous paths—windy and twisting through the thick foliage. We had contacted the homes in the center portion of the valley on previous visits, so today we climbed up one side of the valley wall, and contacted all the homes built along the upper ridge line. When we reached the last home, we topped the valley wall, and crossed into the next valley. The view from this vantage point was magnificent. We soon realized that we were above our favorite cow pasture, a short walk from the Gomez home. There were no homes on this side of the mountain, so we followed a foot path back to the nearest neighborhood. On the way, we found a unique tree, growing at an odd angle from the ground. We climbed the tree and took photos of ourselves sitting in its twisted frame; it was just a cool-looking tree. We taught Piña the fifth charla, filled out her cédula, practiced baptism, and so forth. Since the fifth charla was such a short one, we usually used the extra time to fill out all the necessary information for the baptismal certificate, and do a dry-run of the baptism. Piña was still very excited about her baptism, and we were excited for her. Again we tried to teach Ernesto the second charla, but his mother is sick and he had to go visit her. I’ll persevere; once we had thought that Teófila was lost. Much perseverance brought forth many blessings and much joy. Friday, July 18, 1997 I think I caught a glimpse of Camelot tonight. We had a Family Home Evening with the Ochoa Family. This family is so cool. They are both active in the church and in their home exists the perfect balance of discipline and love. We ate hamburgers and had a great time. This was not an officially sanctioned family home evening; that is, we did not invite any investigators to help them move along the path of conversion. Instead, Hermano Ochoa, with whom we had formed a solid friendship, wanted to have us over for dinner with the family. We obliged him, and we snuck into Elder Griffin’s area to have the Noche de Hogar. Earlier in the day, we visited Matilda. I feel very uncomfortable in her home for some reason. There was an unpleasant spirit in her home, one that I should have listened to from the beginning. Matilda’s daughter, an aspiring musician, employed the services of a manager, a homosexual who lived with the family. Perhaps it was his influence that I felt, perhaps it was something else. Perhaps it was Matilda herself who made me feel uncomfortable, as her manner

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of dress was often immodest, despite her aging years. If she wasn’t reading the Book of Mormon and asking intelligent questions, I’d leave her in an instant. We taught the final charla to Piña this morning. We were ready to go on that front. As an added bonus, the district president’s niece, the daughter of his sister, who was herself a recent convert, also asked to be baptized. Since she had been going to church with her mother for nearly two years, we gave her a bunch of quick discussions, and prepared her for the big moment that coming Sunday. I finished the day musing about the love and tenderness I witnessed in the Ochoa home. Someday, I will build my own Camelot—a home based in the scriptures, in prayer, a home with a loving, faith-filled, nurturing, and disciplining mother. A Camelot, not perfection, there will always be faults and failures, but a Camelot. My Camelot. A home based in faith. Saturday, July 19, 1997 Today was International Service Day in the Church. As such, we left the house at 8:00 a.m. to give service with the branch. All four of us elders joined with the branch in our designated service project. An elementary school in El Pintor needed cleaning, so we pitched in, cleaned up trash, cut weeds, and basically made the school a much more appealing place to be. It was lots of fun; I sunburned. In the afternoon, Elder Griffin and I returned to visit with the Nieto Family in an attempt to salvage our good relationship with them. While we knew that María and Virginia still wanted to be baptized, we knew that Victor, the eighty-two year old patriarch, was opposed to it. I was scared and nervous as we approached their home, not knowing what to say, or how to say it. I was afraid that the ire of Old Man Nieto would extend to Elder Griffin and I as we acted in our capacities as peacemakers. When I expressed my fears to Elder Griffin, he laughed and responded, “you forgot to put on your Kevlar garments this morning, didn’t you?” We both had a good laugh at that. My worrying was for no reason; when we arrived at the Nieto home, no one was home. Sometimes I wonder if I really know how to lead. Elders Bravo and Avila have been getting really rebellious these last couple days. I have the tendency to reprove with sharpness and instantly regret it. I need to learn better people skills, loving everyone and leading efficiently. I am no longer scared or timid. The Lord has helped me to overcome that. I also wonder sometimes if I’m capable of charity. I think that Christ-like love is beyond my reach. I am cynical. People really annoy me. I can love a select few, but I can’t seem to get a grip on the masses. It was not until much later, after my mission was long completed and I had returned to my studies at Brigham Young University that I discovered the erroneous nature of these sentiments. While talking to my roommates I often cringed when I heard them speak mockingly of the people to whom they ministered during their own two-year missionary service. It was during one such conversation that I realized that the tender feelings I have towards the Mexican people is one born not of nostalgia, but of charity. The ancient prophet Nephi was able to subdivide the great, Christ-

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like love, and proclaimed that he had charity for his people, for the Jews, and for the gentiles (all mankind basically). Though I still have a great amount of progress yet to traverse before I arrive at Nephi’s level of charity for all mankind, I do know that I have charity for the Mexican people. I love them unconditionally and pray that they may someday inherit their spiritual birthright as children of Lehi. Sunday, July 20, 1997 Today Agrapiña Ramirez Bautista was baptized and confirmed a member of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. Joining her in the making of this sacred covenant was President Aradíaz’s niece, Erika. She’s such a cute little nugget. What was a real slap in the butt was that Familia Nieto showed up to church today ready to be baptized. The mother and daughter duo had arrived at the branch meetinghouse with a change of clothes and were disappointed when we told them that they could not be baptized because we had not finished the charlas with them. When asked about her husband’s demand that they not be baptized, María shrugged, and said that she was going to be baptized regardless of what the old man said. All week she had been planning on being baptized, and all week we had assumed that we had lost the family. I guess we had two communication failures with this family this week. I’m ready to take a breather and jump back into the work. Today’s baptismal program was planned at the last moment, but I think I pulled it all together, if not perfectly, then pretty well. Again, the Ochoas came to the rescue, Hermano Ochoa by driving me home rapidly to retrieve some forgotten paperwork, and Hermana Ochoa by giving a talk on the Holy Ghost. I directed and Fausto gave the baptismal talk. We baptized again in the port-a-font under the mango tree. We passed by Nadia’s house this morning, but she wasn’t home. We returned after Church and found her. We talked a buen rato. I was feeling like we were making progress until Nadia shied away from offering the closing prayer. I’d like to ask her why she got baptized. I’d like to take her by the ears and shake some sense into her. My comp is studying the New Testament, something he said that he’d never do. Elder Avila always insisted that he need not know anymore than the Book of Mormon. He told me later that it was I who inspired him to take this step into the previously unknown world of the Bible. My knowledge of the scriptures, and the way I communicated that knowledge to our investigators, had shown to Elder Avila the value of knowing and understanding the entire body of scripture. This morning, Hermana Monterubio gave me some donuts that contained the last Hercules card from the Pan Bimbo promotion. I’ve been collecting these things since June 30th. There were a total of twenty-seven different plastic pieces, each with different scenes from the recently released Disney movie. I even bought the official Pan Bimbo album in which to put all my little jugetes. During the previous week, I had the Monterubios and Ochoas searching for the last two or

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three pieces that I needed to make my collection complete. We all need hobbies, I suppose, even when serving the Lord. Monday, July 21, 1997 A very laughable P-Day. It went very well. In the morning, Elder Griffin destroyed one of the few fans that we have in the house. He’s been learning how to juggle, and one of my juggling balls got away from him and hit the fan’s unguarded face. Pieces of the fan’s blades went flying in every direction. I was napping in the other room when I heard the explosion. Luckily, my juggling balls were uninjured in the accident. The fan, on the other hand, was rendered useless. We hopped the fence at Lupita’s house (she’s in San Felipe) and did our laundry there. Although she and the family were on vacation, visiting family in San Felipe, she allowed us to do laundry at her home. However, she did not leave a key with us, and so we were left to our own devices, inventing a way to gain access to the washing machine. He washing machine was on a concrete patio on one side of her home. We sat next to the washing machine, wrote letters, and waited for our laundry to be done. The district meeting that night was held in our home, with just Elders Griffin, Bravo, Avila and I. We got started late, and when we tried to leave to work, we had to start the prayer five times; we kept bursting into laughter. Elder Avila and I finished the day with a tender moment between us. He asked forgiveness for being a turd these last couple of days. I know how much that cost him; he’s a very stubborn and proud person. I love him a lot and hope the best for him.

Extracts from a Letter to my Parents “It’s a miracle, in my mind, that the Nieto family has progressed this far. Elder Monroy and I visited them once or twice, but didn’t make much progress. For a whole month and a half we didn’t visit them. Then one Sunday, they unexpectedly walked into church. We were extremely busy with other families with baptismal dates, so it took another couple of weeks before we could visit them. In the second and third charlas, they were very stubborn. They just didn’t want to learn what we had to teach. However, they were attending church every Sunday. Somehow, the Lord softened their hearts and has brought a very wonderful family into His fold. “I don’t know if I’m doing something wrong, but it seems that the vast majority of my baptisms have been women. I want to baptize some future leadership, and to this end we’ve been working with Teófila’s husband and brotherin-law.” Tuesday, July 22, 1997 We went back to Chapultepec this morning with plans to move on to Rojo Gomez nearby. However, contacts in Chapultepec went so well we spent three hours there. We finished tracting out the entire neighborhood, a task that I don’t think was ever accomplished by any other elder. This area was often neglected, 321

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not only because it was so inaccessible, but also because the homes were so far apart that tracting out the area was not an efficient use of time. However, I had a soft spot in my heart for the more rural areas of Huejutla, for the beauty of those back-country paths. I felt vindicated in the attention I showered on little Chapultepec because of the small degree of success we found in the area. Hermana Monterubio made us pizza, with ham and pineapple. She had previously asked me what my favorite pizza toppings were, and when I told her, she made me a pizza. She also made a cake for Elder Bravo’s birthday. In the evening, Elder Griffin and I went back to smooth things over with Old Man Nieto. We were able to make our peace with Victor, though he still withheld his permission for us to baptize his wife and daughter, who shook their heads vigorously in disagreement behind his back. We normally wouldn’t baptize in this type of situation, but figured that María and Virginia were so determined that there was no stopping them. That, and we believed it nothing short of a miracle that they had even progressed this far. We taught them the fifth charla and hope to baptize this Sunday. Talked with Matilda more today. I think we’re ready for a second charla here. She had been reading the Book of Mormon, and having ignored the bad vibes we were receiving from her home, felt that we were ready to move on. I also reflected on the fact that we haven’t visited Teófila in some time. The time demands on missionaries are often severe, and too often we were so busy with our finding and teaching pools, that we had little time to devote to the new converts pool. In more established areas of the Church, we would have had Stake Missionaries who would have fed these sheep, but in Huejutla, we had none. Wednesday, July 23, 1997 A weighty problem has been really bugging me these last couple of weeks and months. I still can’t decide on a career. It’s not something I have to worry about for another year, but it is extremely important. Perhaps I shouldn’t worry about it while in the mission, but I figure that as a missionary, I’m entitled to special revelation. I want to steer between two major pillars, family and God. I don’t want to do anything that would cause me to put one or both of them in second place in my life. I was right, in saying that it wasn’t something I should worry about as a missionary. The only solid piece of revelation I received on the topic, while still in the field, came in my final months. All the other direction I received concerning my career have come in the months and years since. However, I do think that I prepared my mind and soul for those flashes of insight, and that the thought I gave to the topic was not wasted. Today was spent making follow-up visits in Chapultepec and helping the Ochoas dig a little swimming pool for the li’l ones, Karen and Alilee. This was some of the most physically draining service work I did as a missionary. We dug, we shoveled, we mixed, we cemented, we plastered. Nonetheless, it was a lot of fun, since this was a family that we both truly loved. The pool was 1.5 meters by 1 meter, and only 60 cm deep, but it was large enough for little children to play in. We didn’t give many charlas, but we’re tired nonetheless.

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Thursday, July 24, 1997 My vertigo cleared as I debated with my comp about the value of learning from those who have gone before. I realized that teaching history or English at a university level is something important, something that can make a difference. Clearly, I’d rather teach with CES, but I now know that education is a field in which I can leave my mark. I put the subject to rest for nearly a year, until the latter portion of my mission. When I once again resurrected these ponderings, the spirit whispered that I should choose a field in which I could make a living with only a bachelor’s degree, to guard against unforeseen circumstances that may keep me from pursuing graduate level studies. The day passed fast, notwithstanding the overwhelming fatigue both my companion and I felt. We’re making final arrangements for Familia Nieto’s baptism. We still have a few hurdles, but it’ll come together smoothly. Some weeks ago, I sent away for a book about Book of Mormon geography. I hope it comes soon. Knowing that we were often out of the house during the day, and afraid that I would thus miss the delivery, I left a Huejutla address for the package. The address I used was Lupita’s and I hoped that if it arrived after the transfers, that she would pass it off to the missionaries, who would in turn, forward it to me. Friday, July 25, 1997 We gave service all this morning, again with the Ochoas. I don’t know why, but this whole last week, I’ve been extra lazy. Elder Griffin attributes it to being bored with Huejutla. In a way, I guess he’s right. I’ve been in the same area with the same companion for a long time. Now that we’ve stopped going to San Felipe every week, monotony has an extra edge on its blade. I love Huejutla. I love the people here. Part of my problem was a feeling of complacency. I had had an excellent month, closing in on six baptisms, and the area, which had been dead when I arrived, was back on its feet and operating at a respectable level. I knew transfers were coming up soon, and I began to coast, hoping for a change of scenery. Thus, our finding and teaching pools began to decay. We gave the sixth charla to the Nieto Family, and we’ll baptize them this Sunday. Yesterday, Virginia finally offered a prayer without her false traditions. In the past, she would always begin her prayers by reciting some odd mantra about “the blood of Christ, and yada, yada, yada.” Although I had had my doubts about Virginia’s sincerity, believing that her mother was forcing her into baptism against her will, this experience convinced me otherwise. I knew that the spirit was working on her heart, because she was able to offer up a heartfelt and simple prayer to her Father in Heaven. This is a terrific family. They will be a strength to the Church. The Church will be a strength to them. We finished the evening with ice cream with the Zuñigas. Hermano Zuñiga, though no longer active, loved showing his devotion to the Lord by giving free ice cream to the Lord’s servants. That would be us. And we received much

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delicious ice cream from him, though we were never able to help him take any steps towards full activity. Saturday, July 26, 1997 We filled the font again, a task that nearly ended in tragedy. The water tank on the roof emptied and the pump in the well wouldn’t work. We almost panicked. We started filling the font one bucket at a time from the well, but realized that we were never going to fill it at that rate. Elder Avila had an idea, which required me to do some dangerous stunts. I had to head up to the roof and try to fix things. I can no longer remember what it was that I did on the roof. Maybe I unkinked a hose, or maybe I opened a closed valve. Whatever it was, the idea must have come to us from the spirit for it allowed us to fill the font enough for a baptism. However, I nearly killed myself coming down from the roof. We got the font mostly filled, and then left for lunch. We arrived late, and left late. We gave a handful of charlas, and nearly as many blessings. I think in a week or two, when I finally get my teaching pool reestablished, I’ll leave this flojera behind. We stuck Adelfo into the teaching pool today and plan to do the same with Matilda and her kids. Adelfo was a simple man who lived on the ridge top overlooking Colonia Chapultepec. He was the result of several days of tracting out the entire neighborhood, and I think he was worth it. Though simple and a little slow, Adelfo was a man of faith and genuine love for his fellow man. He was also the key to the reactivation of Elodia’s husband; the two of them worked together at Huejutla’s Pemex station. Later that afternoon, we were chatting with Elodia outside of her home. I wanted to share a spiritual thought with her, so I dashed into her home to grab her scriptures. I had barely entered through the door when a piercing shriek split the air; I had walked in on Susana in her underwear. She quickly covered herself, and I quickly exited the house. We left shortly thereafter, and I worried the rest of the day that I may have destroyed my friendship with Susana. I figured I’d find out tomorrow. Sunday, July 27, 1997 If you can believe it, the Nieto family was baptized today. It was a very happy moment. During the baptismal service that day, Elder Avila had to dunk María twice. She whispered to him, before the baptism, that she had a heart condition, and asked him to be gentle. This was a surprise to all of us, and it made Elder Avila very nervous. But the baptism was still so very beautiful. In fact, when everyone was giving hugs and stuff after the service, both Virginia and her mother began to cry. Because their conversion process had taken so long, they already had many friends in the branch. None were closer than Elodia and her family. It felt good, the whole program, that is. Teófila was in church today. So was Xochitl. Elvira is apparently less active. Nadia also attended church meetings, the first time since her baptism. And

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we had an investigator—Matilda, who it turns out is Nadia’s godmother. Maybe the two can help to lift and inspire each other, I thought. I was wrong. Nadia never set foot in a Mormon chapel again. After eating with the Monterubios, we finished with the Ochoa’s swimming pool. It’s a nifty-looking li’l thing. I love Huejutla. This week was kinda weird. We had more hours of service than charlas—fifteen vs. fourteen. My good old ZL takes off in a week. What a stud. He has been trying to teach himself to juggle again, and is once more having problems. He hasn’t practiced since the fan incident on Monday. Go figure. He’s probably just trunky. Elder Griffin and I had a nightly ritual wherein he would sit on my bed and talk to me as I wrote in my journal. We would share with each other the highs and the lows of that day’s proselyting efforts. It was during these evening chats that he and I became close friends. He had asked me on previous occasions if he could write something in my journal, and I had always laughed it off. This evening, I relented, knowing that the events of the day had probably meant more to him than anyone else in the house. He had worked so hard with the family, loved them fiercely, and now, as he was nearing the end of his mission, he reflected on the successes that he had enjoyed in Huejutla. The following was written by Elder William Orson Griffin: Today for María and Virginia’s baptism tears were shed. It was for me a great moment seeing these two women who I’ve known since their first Sunday. The fact that they admire humble servants like us is remarkable to my twenty-one year old mind. But the gospel is true and there are many miracles that will follow. I love this work. I love the Mexico Tampico Mission. Monday, July 28, 1997 For P-Day we ran a bunch of errands in the Centro. We sent the fax, bought toiletries, developed film, cut my hair, played video games at an arcade, browsed through several music stores, visited investigators, went home, and slept. That’s it, in a nutshell. I did most of this stuff with Elder Griffin. He was on a quest to find souvenirs for his family, and take home some mementos for himself. Being a musical person, he spent a good portion of our time at various music stores (selling both original music and pirated cassettes) looking for songs he had known and loved as a missionary. Inspired by his love of Mexican music, I began taking note of the songs I heard in the streets—from the jaunty ranchero tunes of Angeles Azules to the heartfelt warbling of Enrique Iglesias. My love of Latin music can be traced back to this outing with Elder Griffin. Our evening work was minimal—Elodia and Teófila. The former talked a buen rato, the latter insisted on shoving food in us. Tensions are a little strained in the house, but Elder Bravo brought everything into the open during the district meeting. We’re all going to try and be a little more humble. I especially need to get that pride thing back under control, if indeed I ever did have it controlled. Elder Avila and Bravo went to see the old Catholic cathedral. They said it was beautiful. I’d like to go see it next week.

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Extracts from a Letter to my Parents “When I first became a senior companion, it hit me hard that if we were going to baptize, It would primarily be my responsibility to bring it to pass. It scared me. Until that time, I had only had four baptisms. I didn’t think that I had the necessary experience to bring an investigator to baptism. Since that that time, Elder Avila and I have had seven baptisms. It’s amazing to see how much can go wrong in the planning process, and how much God can fix with a little faith and a lot of hard work.” Tuesday, July 29, 1997 We kept striking out this morning, and it set the tone for the rest of the day. We weren’t able to get much accomplished. I think Elder Griffin is right. A change of scenery would really boost my energy level. Be it a change of companions or a change of areas, or both. I think the variety would be nice. I’ve never been in the same area or with the same comp for so long. Matamoros doesn’t count; I worked in two different areas there. I found myself thinking this morning that I’ve given all that I can to Huejutla, and I just don’t have any more to give. I love this city. It’s lodged deeply in my heart. I just need a change of scenery, a change of pace. Wednesday, July 30, 1997 What can be said that hasn’t been said? Last night I read parts of the Book of Mormon to try and raise my spirits. It’s worked, but I need to combine it with prayer and hard work. I also read a few notes from a lecture series by Daniel H. Ludlow. They were leant to me by Elder Griffin. In the evening, we had a follow-up visit with Adelfo, an older gentleman whom we found last week in Chapultepec. He’s a very simple man of simple faith. His wife is afraid of us, but we are going to try and fix that soon. Adelfo usually had food to feed us, and I suspect that his wife prepared it. However, she never ate with us, preferring instead to hide in the daub and wattle hut until we had gone. I loved Adelfo’s home. It was surrounded by thick greenery, and being near the ridgeline of the valley, he had a fabulous view of the city and valley below him. The long hike to his house made me feel like we really were preaching the gospel to the ends of the earth. The land on which Adelfo had built his home was near the valley ridgeline, and somewhat level. However, directly below the house was a steep slope, a winding path that lead down to his main gate, and several animal pens. Adelfo, like every rural Mexican I met, kept a handful of pigs and chickens near his home. The whole affair felt very secluded. I loved sitting with Adelfo, teaching him the gospel, and looking out over the vista as darkness settled over the valley below us and the lights of Huejutla twinkled peacefully in the evening air. These last few weeks have been difficult. Every day has been low-ánimo, and I’m really struggling to get myself out of this trough. Although I had one of 326

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my highest baptizing months ever, I still felt that the entire month of July had been pretty lazy. Most of the baptisms were the results of the hard work and sacrifice of previous months. All the battles we fought, the lessons we taught, the faith we expended had occurred in May and June. In July we were on automatic and watched the fruits of our labors roll in. This left us with a scant teaching pool, and I wanted it in decent shape for the elder who would take over the area after me. With patience, faith, a lot prayer and hard work, I can do it. With God’s help, of course. Thursday, July 31, 1997 Today we gave service to ourselves. We cleaned house and cut grass. I blistered, but my comp was worse. He worked harder than I did. I received my Book of Mormon geography book. My careful plan to have the book sent to Lupita’s home backfired. She and her family had been on vacation for the last two weeks. The delivery guy asked around and was able to track us down. He was a little mad at me for putting the “wrong” address on the package. I didn’t argue with him; I just signed for it and sent him on his way. I’ve been reading it at every chance since. Meaning that I read it at lunch, and then again in the evening. I even stayed up well past the official lights-out in order to read more of it. I consumed the entire book in three days. It’s rad. The purpose of the book was not to definitively create a solution to Book of Mormon geography. Rather, Sorenson’s goal was to show that the events depicted in that book of scripture could have conceivably taken place in an ancient American setting. He never once dogmatically insisted that certain archaeological sites were the ruins of Book of Mormon settlements. Rather, based on what science tells us of ancient America, these sites COULD have been related to the Book of Mormon. He also painted a vivid picture of examples of Mesoamerican cultural traits that appear in the Book of Mormon. We had two lunch appointments—one was our regular, and the other with Matilda. The manager for Matlida’s daughter’s budding musical career, who is a homosexual, prepared the food. He appears to be quite taken with Elder Griffin. We finished the day with visits to Adelfo and Teófila. Our visit with Adelfo surprised us. This simple gentleman often came across as slow, and Elodia once told us that many of his co-workers often teased him. As we learned over the course of many visits with Adelfo, he wasn’t a stupid man, just lacking in education. He did everything with slow deliberation, weighing his options, considering every angle of any problem at hand. During this evening’s visit, we taught him the third discussion, and when we mentioned the Melchizedek Priesthood, he opened his copy of the Book of Mormon to the thirteenth chapter of Alma and showed us what he had recently learned about the man Melchizedek. We were surprised, not only because he had read so much of the Book of Mormon in so short a time, but also by his retention of the details. He was able to make the connection between what we had said and what he had read. From that time on, we never considered Adelfo to be a dullard,

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for we knew that the Spirit of God enlightens any man, and through that spirit, any man can become a scholar of gospel principles. Since coming to Huejutla in April, I had visited many backwater neighborhoods, climbed many hills, and walked over so miles of uneven terrain. All of this Huastecan adventure finally took its toll on Elder Avila. My comp hurt his knee during a descent down a steep slope in the Loma Bonita colonia. It’s become tough for him to walk. I worry about him. The work progresses, though I am not. Friday, August 1, 1997 This morning was spent contacting in the colonias behind Chapultepec. We climbed once more to the top of the ridgeline, and then crossed over into a different valley than we had during our previous work in the colonia. There was no easy access to these far distant colonias; they were, without doubt, the most remote area in which I ever preached the gospel. We found a number of families in those backwater areas. We visited Carolina in the afternoon. It looks as if I’ll not see her baptized. She’s waffling again. She’s throwing every excuse in the book at us. She’s coming up with some silly questions. As I mentioned earlier, it was my own fault that I was never able to baptize Carolina. Though I never learned what it was that I did to offend her, it delayed her entry into the waters of baptism for several months. We finished the day by helping Presidente Monterubio add a few bricks to his roof. Pretty short day. I’m loving my new book. I’m already halfway through it. It’s opening my eyes and challenging pre-conceptions that I’ve had about the Book of Mormon peoples. The Church is full of harmless traditions that are unsupported by the text. Such traditions include the notion that the lands of the Book of Mormon included all of North and South America, that the book chronicles a “history” of the American Indian, and that the Lehites were the only peoples then present on the American continent. These ideas, which the LDS people have assumed for generations, are never asserted by the book itself. In order for scholars to fit the book into a real-world Mesoamerican context, then such assumption must be critically examined. If we can arise above it, open our minds, then perhaps we will be prepared, as a people, to receive additional revelation in regards to the Book of Mormon. At the same time we use a century’s worth of archeological data to better understand the Bible, many members of the church deny that a similar understanding of the Americas will aid our comprehension of the teachings from the Book of Mormon. Thus, they ironically declare, “We have a Book of Mormon and we need know no more about the Book of Mormon.” Too often, people say that the Lord will reveal more when He is ready. I believe that He will reveal more information on the Book of Mormon only when we have prepared ourselves through both study and faith. I love this church with all my heart.

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Saturday, August 2, 1997 The work was slow, but our companionship was greatly strengthened. After lunch, we had an intense argument. I had finished reading my book, so I though I was an expert on all things Mesoamerican. Elder Avila is from Mexico, so he thought he was an expert on all things Mexican. The argument was really quite stupid, involving as it did the settlement history of Teotihuacan. Afterwards, we talked, he cried, I shed a tear or two, and we continued on our way. That Christmas, I received a box of chocolates from Elder Avila. The chocolates themselves were delicious, but it was the box that made me laugh. It contained a flap, and inside the flap was a full color painting of Teotihuacan as it may have once existed. In the evening, we just talked. I love Elder Avila. He’s my best friend and favorite companion to date. Sure, we’ve fought. Sure, at times I’ve wanted to kill him. But haven’t I felt the same about my brother Blake? We gave a lot of service hours today. The Book of Mormon is so awesome. It’s true. There can be no doubt. Six years ago today was the Youth Conference that changed my life. A moment of quiet reflection, please… Sunday, August 3, 1997 Last night on the way home, we passed the chapel to take a look at construction. We had just seen the blueprints at Hermano Ochoa’s house, so we were able to imagine how it would be once it was done. We walked around the site, and animated ourselves. Low attendance in church today, with little work afterwards. However, Adelfo came to church and enjoyed every minute of it. I spent some time reading journal entries to Elder Griffin. He’s packing right now. I’ll miss the guy. I don’t know why I make these Sunday entries so long when nothing happens on Sundays. I guess it gives me time to reflect on the week and record some thoughts. The strongest impressions, of course, are from my Book of Mormon book. I’m really tired; I don’t know why. I didn’t do anything this week. My pen looks as if it’s dying. It barely lasted three weeks. Tomorrow, we’ll have several farewells for Elder Griffin. He served the Master well. In a few days, he’ll be with his family. Where will I be in a few days? I haven’t received letters in some time; they should come Tuesday, after the transfers. A whole month’s worth of letters. This pen sure is cheap. What else do I expect for a peso, roughly twelve and a half American cents. Since my pen won’t cooperate, good night. What a pointless journal entry! In later months, I would reduce the amount of page space I gave to my Sunday entries. Until that time, I had to ramble and blabber until I met my one page quota.

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Monday, August 4, 1997 Elder Griffin leaves in the morning. The big surprise is that I’m staying here. Elder Avila got a transfer. He’s busy complaining right now while packing up all of his earthly possessions. Since neither one of us was expecting him to be transferred, he hadn’t prepared and he had belongings strewn all over the house. It took him some time to pack, but he finished in a timely manner. The next day, he landed in Madero. Our P-Day was fun. We washed clothes, but had to jump the fence again. Hermana Lupita and her family were still on vacation. We threw our laundry bags over the fence, and had to sit on the rough concrete patio while we waited for the chore to be done. We ate breakfast with the Monterubios, watched the Ochoa children while their parents ran some errands, watched a Disney movie (The Hunchback of Notre Dame) with Karen and Alilee, had a good-bye FHE with Hermana Elodia, and then ate a farewell dinner of hamburgers with the Ochoas. Elder Avila and I had formed a close relationship with the Ochoas, and spent quality time in their home. I knew that they would miss him. Tomorrow, we’ll all be going on up to Tampico for a day of fun and sun. In addition to exchanging companions, Elder Avila will visit Dr. Juarez and have his knee examined. I was called to be a trainer again, and could not help but to wonder what my new comp will be like. I always worry about these things. I’ll really miss Elder Avila. He’s been one of my favorites. I wonder where he’ll end up. I guess I’ll get to baptize Carolina and Ernesto. Well, tomorrow we’ll get letters!!! By the time I leave Huejutla, I’ll have more time here than in Matamoros.

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Elder Barrett signing as a witness for Teófila’s marriage

Elders Avila and Barrett constructing a small splash pool for the Ochoa Children

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Above: Elder Avila attempting to negotiate a difficult descent in Colonia Chapultepec

Right: Elder Avila attempts a crossing of the Rio Tecoluco

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