17--trials And Triumphs

Chapter Seventeen Trials and Triumphs

I prepared to take my leave from Luz and Julio. Above me the storm clouds rumbled ominously. I looked up, disappointed that my visit to Panuco should be marred by inclement weather. I remembered well the way the mud clung to the streets, creating a treacherous surface for pedestrian and vehicle alike. But the mud was the least of my worries; I had brought no rain gear, and with all of my travel necessities packed into my lone backpack, they were bound to get soaked. And then Luz offered up a solution. I could leave my backpack in their home, and retrieve it when I returned the umbrella. Umbrella? I was confused and not at all certain that I had comprehended her Spanish correctly. Luz disappeared into the house with my backpack and reemerged with the umbrella she would be loaning me for the rest of the afternoon. Bless her dear heart, I thought. She was always mindful of the needs of others. She will be a wonderful mother. Down the slippery, muddy streets of Panuco I advanced, wandering from site to site, reminiscing this and that, having a wonderful time in the afternoon shower that was common for that region of the country. I visited with Alicia, who had faithfully served the elders their daily meals. As the rain intensified, I continued my journey to the Rio Panuco, to the giant Olmec head, and to the southern colonias where Elder Jenson and I had spent so much time, effort, and love. I even visited the places which had unleashed such vicious head wounds upon my unsuspecting self. The rainstorm turned to a drizzle as I returned the umbrella to Luz, retrieved my backpack, and prepared myself for the next leg of my journey. As I walked to the bus station, I stopped by the Panuco chapel. Chito was there, as he was every Monday, cleaning the meeting house. He greeted me with a smile and a hug and invited me into his office. Besides being the janitor, Chito also served as the president of the Panuco District, and thus had a personal office in the church meetinghouse. While we were thus talking, I noticed a photograph on his desk. I picked it up for a closer inspection, and asked Chito about it.

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“That’s the presidency of the Second Branch, at an activity earlier this year,” Chito had responded to my inquiries. One of the faces in the photo looked familiar. “Who’s this?” I asked. “That’s Hermano Meza, the second counselor.” Hermano Meza. The name soared through my soul. Years ago, I had taught that man the gospel of Jesus Christ. I had spent hours in prayer with Hermano Meza and his wife, fasted for them, loved them. I had been transferred out of Panuco before their baptism, but I had heard that the months afterwards had been difficult and had nearly torn their family apart. I had harbored no hope that the family would be baptized, let alone remain active. And yet, I had been wrong. Hermano Meza, after only a short time as a member of the church, was now serving in the branch presidency. Not for the first time, Panuco taught me that triumphs do not come without trials; victories do not come without a struggle. I spoke with Chito for a few more minutes before excusing myself and continuing my walk towards downtown Panuco. I arrived at the bus terminal as the drizzling afternoon rain came to an end. I sat in the hard plastic seats outside, thinking about the peace I had found in Panuco, and watching the sky as a magnificent rainbow formed over the rooftops and above the plaza. I surfaced from this reverie to board the bus, and was soon crossing the Rio Panuco. In silent contemplation I traveled north, looking out at the rolling land and lush vegetation of northern Veracruz. The spent clouds still hovered low over the land, and mist clung to the vegetation. The sun kissed the western horizon, and occasionally, I caught a glimpse of a distant rainbow. This was the same landscape that I had watched nervously when I first came to the Huasteca in March of 1997. It was the same landscape that passed by my window when, a year later, a jaded and rebellious district leader finally made peace with his zone leader. There was a beauty in this land that owed less to the changes in the weather and more to the changes in my soul. In Panuco, I had found peace. This peace had little to do with the number of baptisms I had performed. It was only tangentially related to how much I had loved the people and how hard I had worked on their behalf. No, the peace that I found in Panuco came from simply surviving, from passing through the storms of adversity, and coming out the other side stronger and more determined to serve the Lord and build up His kingdom. Panuco taught me, time and again, that there is beauty in the calm that follows the storm, a peace in the gentle hush of the evening.

Tuesday, January 20, 1998 I could have killed Elder Rios today. After he finally deigned to show up for a baptismal interview, our revered zone leader told us that Juan Israel was not ready for baptism because he (Juan Israel) still has some doubts. Later in the evening, we went over to visit Juan Israel and talked to him about his goal of being baptized. We asked him about his interview, and, he expressed to us some of the doubts he had articulated to Elder Rios. We were dumbfounded. None of them should keep him from getting baptized. For example, he wondered where does God come from? My personal, quiet rebellion against our zone leader turned into a more public campaign, as both Elder Jenson and I tried to fathom his leadership strategy.

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Elder Randall moved in today, and with him came a grip of letters: fourteen for me, twelve for Elder Baird, and eleven for Elder Jenson. I received information from BYU, and it looks like I’ll need to change my plans a bit. My ultimate goal is still to teach with CES, but I think I’ll change my route and my backup plan. I still need more info. None of the career paths that I mapped out for myself during my mission ever came to fruition. At this point, I thought that I would do a double major in English and Philosophy, with a minor in History. The path I eventually followed was one that never even crossed my mind while serving in Mexico. Wednesday, January 21, 1998 Once again, we had interviews with Big Daddy G. Instead of having Elder Kennedy travel the forty-five minutes to Panuco, President Gillespie decided that he himself would make the journey west to Ebano. Besides saving Elder Kennedy time, the President wanted to chat with an individual whom he was about to call as branch president in Ebano. Elder Rios was supposed to call Elder Kennedy and tell him to stay in Ebano for his interview with President Gillespie, but Elder Rios’s phone still didn’t work. Our zone leader thus did not contact Elder Kennedy with the information. I had to work my butt off this morning trying to make the mission president’s plans work, trying to atone for Elder Rios’s oversight. It made me mad that our revered zone leader didn’t even seem to care about my efforts on his behalf. In the end, my efforts were for naught. The Prez went to Ebano, but Elder Kennedy came to Panuco. I ended up running back and forth between our apartment and the chapel several times, trying to get the right people in the right place at the right time. I was clothed in dress pants, T-shirt, and sandals during these early morning forays. I eventually found Elder Kennedy at the chapel, and told him to wait at the Panuco chapel, in the hopes that the president would return here when no one met him in Ebano. In the final analysis, President Gillespie wasted close to two hours driving to Ebano, waiting, and then returning to Panuco. Our interviews, on the other hand, were fine, just about on schedule. I really love President Gillespie. He asked about our proselyting efforts, and we eagerly told him about Ruben and Soledad. Both Elder Jenson and I agreed that he was branch president material. President Gillespie looked me in the eye, pointed at me, and said, “you make sure you baptize him, then.” If I hadn’t been under pressure before, I certainly was now. Failure with Ruben and Soledad was no longer an option. As we accompanied President Gillespie to his car, I asked him a question that Elder Jenson and I had been discussing earlier that week. Why do churches have steeples? The mission president stopped, put down his briefcase, and turned to face me. I looked at him anxiously, expecting a deep, profound answer. “A building’s function should be reflected in its form,” he said to me. “A bank should look like a bank. A school should look like a school. How do we make a church look like a church?” Feeling a little silly, I replied. “By putting a steeple on it.”

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The Prez continued to gaze at me for a moment more, then he picked up his briefcase and left Elder Jenson and I standing flat-footed and chagrined. As we left the interview, Elder Jenson and I talked about our immense love for our mission president. I love his direct, straight-forward manner. He is a man filled with the Spirit. I felt it today. If only I could become a man like that. If only I could become like both Presidents Goodman and Gillespie. Thursday, January 22, 1998 The assistants descended from Tampico to be with us li’l guys today. Elder Jorgenson went to work with Elder Rios, and I worked with Elder Fister, an alumni of MTC district 60-B. Our current batch of assistants believed in a more hands-on approach than previous mission leaders had. In addition to presenting a training exercise at zone conferences every six weeks, Elders Fister and Jorgenson began going on splits with zone leaders throughout the mission. Even though I was only a district leader, I had the opportunity to work with an assistant to the president that day because Panuco only had a single zone leader. Yesterday, I heard about Elders Felley and Roundy teaching eighty-one charlas in a single week up in Victoria. They were doing amazing things in a city that had been consistently leading the mission for the past several months. The last few assistants to the president had been zone leaders in Victoria at the time of their call, and no one doubted that some day either Elder Felley or Elder Roundy would be called to that same high leadership position. The two of them, working wonders in Victoria, had been close friends in high school, and now they were serving the Lord together and inspiring the entire mission to new and greater heights. After having seen Fister in action, Elder Jenson and I have come to the conclusion that we can teach fifty charlas a week in Panuco. It’d be a sacrifice, and we’d have to give it some effort. We’re making that a goal for next week. I plan on sprinting during these last months. Onward and upward. Friday, January 23, 1998 We had a record day. I tied my previous record of charlas (ten) but I think today’s were higher quality. Elder Jenson and I are working our butts off. After the interviews with the president and the split with the assistants, we were on fire. We had caught a greater vision of our purpose, and we went to work with a will and a determination that had been previously lacking in our work. Tonight I had a fun little battle with some sort of foot infection. I had discovered a rash between my big and second toe, and it not only itched, but it also flaked and stunk. After a week of hoping that it would just go away, I finally decided to do something about it. I scrubbed it out with my Dial Blue Antibacterial soap, threw some hydrogen peroxide on it, and finished with some anti-fungal cream. The rash remained. Two days later, I called Sister Gillespie, who recommended using Neosporin on the infected area. I did, and the next day, my feet were once more smooth and clean and non-stinky.

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I’m really animated. I feel good, healthy, strong. I’m enjoying the work more than ever before. I love Mexico. At the same time that I’m looking forward to going home, I dread the very thought of it. One year ago, I wouldn’t have thought so. But I’m now a convert, and I want to stay here. Saturday, January 24, 1998 I guess I just got a little lazy. We had a good day yesterday, so we were a little self-complacent. We didn’t try as hard as we should have. In fact, we had a fairly successful morning, but after lunch, feeling sluggish, self-complacent, and anxious for the weekend, our work took a plunge in productivity. Two blocks east of Alicia’s home was a large soccer field. Weekend games were common, and that afternoon, we stopped to watch a soccer game for a brief moment before wandering aimlessly for the rest of the afternoon. We taught some charlas, though, so the day wasn’t entirely a waste. One was an excellent first charla; I went all out with my speaker’s voice, then when the investigator was prepared and the moment was right, I told the investigator that he was feeling the influence of the Holy Spirit. The highlight of the day was our visit with Ruben and Soledad. I had been reluctant to teach them the second discussion, afraid that I would lose the family when I invited them to baptism. We had spent that week visiting them, reading the Book of Mormon with them, and building our relationship of trust. However, after my interview with the mission president, I knew that I had to get the family progressing. So we taught a second charla to Ruben and Soledad, thus making this week a record week in second charlas—six of them. I’ve really been happy with my performance these last couple months. I think I’ve pulled myself out of the slump that I was in this last fall. I still would like to see some baptisms. We shall see. February is our month. We’re going down (into the waters of baptism, that is). Sunday, January 25, 1998 The Broncos won the Super Bowl today. What I wouldn’t have given to be in Denver tonight. I suppose I’ll hear about the game in a month when letters come. During my interview with the president earlier that week, I asked permission to watch the Super Bowl, fully expecting that the president would be disinclined to acquiesce to my request. Much to my surprise, he granted me permission to record the game and watch it on P-Day. He must have known that no one in Panuco had a working VCR, and that his magnanimous compromise would be meaningless. Although Alicia had a VCR which played movies, its record function did not work. I still laugh about it to this day. Throughout the afternoon, Elder Jenson and I continued to see and hear portions of the big game. I was surprised that the Super Bowl was so popular in a country that knew very little about “American football.” Nevertheless, every home we visited that day had their televisions tuned to the game. As we were walking home that night, Elder Jenson stopped outside one home whose television

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volume was loud enough for us to overhear a few more snippets of the game. We only received conclusive proof of Denver’s victory through our landlady. I fabricated a flimsy excuse to go downstairs, and while asking her some inconsequential question, I surreptitiously checked the television. Sure enough, the game was just ending, and the score indicated a win for the Broncos. I nearly cried today, the level of reverence was so low in our sacrament meeting. I never could relax during our Sunday meetings, because I was always fretting over what our investigators were thinking and feeling. On this particular Sabbath, we finally convinced a less-active family to come to church. During the first speaker’s talk, the family’s youngest girl stood in the middle of the aisle and peed on the floor. Her father mopped it up, all the while embarrassed, as the speaker continued his talk. He then grabbed his family and quickly left the chapel. He never came back. I felt bad; he had tried so hard to come to church, but didn’t have an enjoyable experience. The other elders in my district had a baptism and I directed the program. Cipriana was baptized; she reminds me a ton of Marina in Huejutla. They were both good, humble, single mothers, trying their best to raise their children the best they knew how. Cipriana’s story was funny in that most of her children were baptized, but they never were able to all go to church on the same day. Cipriana’s house was missing a front door, so she always made sure that someone was home at all times. Tomorrow we’re going to the local sugar factory to see how they convert sugarcane into sugar. Elder Randall was teaching a lady whose husband was a manager at the factory, and had promised that the four of us (Elders Randall, Acosta, Jenson, and myself) could tour the factory on one of our days off. It’ll be a load of fun. Monday, January 26, 1998 Well our plan to go see the sugar factory fell through. Elder Randall’s contact had exaggerated the ease with which he could gain permission from his superiors for us to take the unofficial tour. So instead we spent a pleasant P-Day sleeping and writing letters. Once more, my zone leader’s impersonal style in his interview with my companion and I pushed me into a foul mood. Several times he mentioned the fact that he had been a zone leader at an early age, that he had baptized over fifty individuals, and that he knew what was best for our investigators. I almost hit him, and I took out my anger on Elder Acosta, which I feel bad about now. I know I need to be more Christ like. As I was writing in my journal that night, a revelation hit me like a two-ton brick. I’ve taken good care of my gospel knowledge, now it’s time to put it all into practice. All the knowledge in the world could not save me if I didn’t have charity for those around me. Lord, help me love the least of these. Help me to know where thy light leads me; give me a heart that sees another’s needs. It was no longer enough for me to KNOW; I want to DO now. I think it’s the next step for me to take.

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Tuesday, January 27, 1998 Willie is such a faithful dog. He follows us for blocks at a time. Alicia’s dog Willie always followed us after our lunch appointment at her house. I never found out why. We never fed him table scraps, never even bent down to pet the poor beast. He had been following us even before we knew to whom he belonged. But he was a faithful mutt, even sitting at our feet as we taught discussions in the yards and on the patios of Alicia’s neighbors. Apart from Willie, our only other highlight was our one-hour talk with Luz and Julio, recent converts from October. We really shouldn’t have been visiting in their home, since they technically lived in the western area of the Panuco Second Branch. However, we had formed a close attachment to them, and in the interest of convert retention, we visited with them once or twice a week. In fact, we had a better relationship with them than did the elders who were actually serving in that area. There was a period of time when Luz was selling pies to make an extra peso or two. She had taken an order from Elder Perez for a pineapple pie, but had not delivered it yet. One Sunday morning, Elder Jenson and I stopped in for a brief visit before the start of our meetings. We eyed the pineapple pie, asked Luz about it, and then convinced Luz to indulge. We felt sly and a little bit wicked as the four of hatched this mischievous plot. That morning we ate a pineapple pie that did not belong to us, and then Luz made enough vague excuses to Elder Perez to buy herself more time. She gave Elder Perez the first replacement pie the following week, but I doubt he ever found out why his pie order took so long to fill. Such was the relationship that Elder Jenson and I had with Luz and Julio. We were close enough that we often shared intimate stories. That evening in late January was when I first heard their conversion story, and it moved me to tears. The Lord really has been watching over this family and leading them by the hand. They have received many blessings in their lives since baptism. Juan Israel has firmed up his baptismal commitment. We’re moving forward. It seemed that our biggest obstacle at the time was our very own zone leader. We could get Juan Israel moving towards a specific baptismal goal, but as soon as he sat down with Elder Rios for a baptismal interview, he lost all motivation and desire. I never could figure out why. We gave service today, but I escaped by performing a baptismal interview with a member of the family whom the other elders were serving. We only got in half a day’s work but finished strong with seven charlas and two new families (one of them a snake, that is, a flirt). Chyais! No Manche. These words were missionary slang meaning “holy cow!” and “no kidding,” respectively. I still find myself saying them from time to time. I feel very happy. Wednesday, January 28, 1998 I just feel so tired. I haven’t felt like this in such a long, long time. I feel worn out, like all of my best efforts have vanished in the air. No matter how hard I worked in Panuco, it never seemed to be enough. We were lining up some

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baptisms, but many of them just seemed to slip through our fingers instead of solidifying into solid members of the Lord’s Kingdom. For example, Clara is going to be baptized on Sunday, but we have no guarantee that she is going to be active. In the two months that we’ve been working with her, her attendance record has been sporadic. We have a few other baptisms lined up as well, but they are all inherited from the elders who worked this area before me. I was kind of depressed that evening as I realized that not a single person that I have found in the last month and a half is really and seriously preparing for baptism. Such was my gift and my talent. I was supremely skilled at teaching people, making them feel comfortable, and strengthening their testimonies. I was a diplomat; I could resolve doubts, answer questions, and create feelings of good will towards the Church of Jesus Christ. However, I did not know how to aid my investigators in making goals and progressing them towards baptism in a timely fashion. Perhaps it is a testament to my talents that nearly every person then in my teaching pool not only were baptized by later elders, but also remained faithful and active in the church. We went home teaching tonight. I made visits with Julio and Elder Jenson went out working with Martin; both are recent converts. Between the four of us, we only found five of the eight that we were planning on visiting. While we were waiting for Martin to return with Elder Jenson, Julio and I had a great conversation. When I realized that neither he nor Luz owned their own hymnbook, I pulled my own battered and worn copy from my backpack. I then gave Julio my hymnbook, scrawling a quick dedication on a blank page near the back. He’ll need the hymnbook more than me. When I visited the couple in later years, they still had my old and battered hymn book, and they still used it in their Sunday services. I was gratified to learn that my simple gift was so valued by these two wonderful saints. Thursday, January 29, 1998 I went on a full-day split with Elder Randall today, working in my area. Elder Jenson had a good day with Elder Acosta, while Elder Randall and I had a lot of fun and a little success. María Isabel, the widow to whom we had inaptly taught the doctrine of eternal marriage the previous month, is beginning to flake, but we are making progress in other areas with other people. My goal for the day was to demonstrate to Elder Randall how to transform enthusiasm and good cheer into a successful proselyting style. Elder Randall was always so somber and taciturn, and I never knew how to reach him. That day, I just had a fun time contacting. I told one contact that our chapel was “over there, next to Kolob.” Another time, a J-Dub told me Joseph Smith wasn’t in the Bible, but I opened fire and told her where she could read about him, using the J-Dub technique against one of their own. During our split that day, Elder Randall told me tales of the elders in Tantayuca. My good friend from Matamoros, Elder Rule, had served as a district leader in that small Huastecan town some months previous. He and Elder Randall had not always seen eye to eye on many issues, and Elder Randall

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claimed that his former leader was now a Pharisee. Oh well. I knew that Elder Rule was one of the most obedient elders in the mission, but I did not believe Elder Randall’s claims that he had become extreme. I figured that even the best of us are often misunderstood. Elder Rule had always inspired me to be a better elder. Thinking about his upright example has made me try to be more obedient in my own life. I have really been trying to ground myself in the scriptures and in daily prayer, trying to keep myself clean before the Lord Friday, January 30, 1998 We started off on the wrong foot. Our morning FHE wasn’t home, so we gave service instead. This seemed to set the tone for the entire day, as we faced failed contact after failed contact. Our day finished on an average note as we contacted a Gnostic who had some pretty weird beliefs. Elder Jenson and I had been spending a great deal of effort in contacting in the vicinity of Ruben’s home—Colonia Electricista and Fraccionamiento La Curva. This was one of the last houses that we contacted in the area before moving on to what we hoped would prove to be more fruitful fields of labor. Throughout the day, and during the previous week, I have really been trying to be more direct and bold with the people. Such was the model laid down by President Gillespie. He never minced words; he was never afraid to look a person in the eye and tell them a hard truth. I admired this quality in my mission president and tried to cultivate it in my own missionary efforts. Elder Rios had attended a zone leader’s council up in Tampico the previous day, and he still hadn’t dropped by the house to discuss the council with me (his district leader). Nor had he delivered the mail that he had received on our behalf while at the mission offices. After a long day of proselyting, Elder Jenson and I invented an excuse to visit Elder Rios’s apartment. He still hadn’t fixed his telephone, so finding an excuse was not difficult. He wasn’t home when we arrived, but the other elders in his district were. We chatted with them briefly, picked up our mail, and returned to our own apartment. Several months ago I abandoned my dream of going to Israel. I had always wanted to visit the holy land, but decided that BYU’s Study Abroad program did not fit well into my own educational goals. Tonight I received more info, and once more went into flights of fancy about visiting Jerusalem and points east. However, Elder Jenson helped me to keep a level head about it. He reminded me of the practical considerations involved with such a large expenditure, and thus helped me to continue thinking of my future in more practical terms. Maybe someday I will visit the Holy Land. It just won’t be any time in the coming decade. That evening we also received some exciting news, though it also dampened my spirits somewhat. It seems that the prophet has rescheduled his visit to Mexico and is coming to Ciudad Victoria in March. All of us were excited about the coming visit. We knew that it would be a great blessing for our investigators and recent converts to hear from a prophet of God and feel of his love for the people of this nation.

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For me, the news was tinted with a hue of disappointment. It meant that the premonition I had had on the day I left Victoria was not a whispering from the spirit, but rather a product of my vain imagination. I would be returning to Victoria to hear the words of the prophet, not to lead the missionaries of that city as zone leader. After some thought, though, I figured such was for the best. The recent successes of the zone leaders in Ciudad Victoria had placed them in the mission spotlight, a place I did not want to be. Saturday, January 31, 1998 It was a long day. Clara never showed up to her interview. We waited for three long hours. During this time, we even sent Elder Jenson, accompanied by Elder Baird, to visit Clara’s home to remind her of the appointment she had with the missionaries. She was not home, and our morning hours were wasted. That just started the day off wrong. We weren’t able to get much else accomplished. Our Saturdays end early due to correlation meeting, a meeting which I often felt did not resolve nor determine much. All in all, I felt that the day had been full of lost potential. We taught the good-looking sister-in-law of the inactive member whose daughter had peed all over the sacrament meeting floor two weeks previous. We were visiting the home in an effort to re-ignite a spark of motivation or desire, but we found instead this young woman. She really wasn’t interested in our message; she just wanted to talk. Boy, was she a flirt. It wasn’t a very spiritual experience. Due to an early afternoon headache, I didn’t give the charla that much effort in the first place. We did have some small success that afternoon; we were able to commit Andres’ son, also name Andres, to baptism. He’s moving a little slow, but happy to be following Christ. I can see some baptisms on our horizon. I just hope I don’t screw them up. I need to make a few phone calls tonight before hopping into bed. I’m happy with my progress and learning. Heaving a big sigh, I’m getting there. Sunday, February 1, 1998 Well, that was a Sunday to go down in the record books. We went to work in the morning, but at 12:00 we returned to the chapel for Juan Israel’s baptismal interview. It started late, and then lasted for a whole two hours! I’m furious with my zone leader, and I am going to tell him so tomorrow. I was not in a very forgiving mood. Yesterday he chewed me out for getting the mail on my own Friday evening. I retorted that he should be doing his duty more faithfully. He should understand that letters are extremely important to the elders under his charge, and deliver letters promptly after receiving them from the mission offices. When I was done venting on that topic, I asked him why he hadn’t told me anything about the freaking concilio like he’s supposed to. As his second-in-command, he should be discussing the concilio with me at some point before he discussed it with the

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entire zone. We were supposed to be a team. Such had been the case when I had worked with my previous zone leaders, Elders Meza, Tonks, and Carrillo. Such should be the case in working with him. Obviously, I’m not very happy with Elder Rios. The other elders in our district had a baptism and then we went home to finish our fast. It was a full twenty-four hours, from evening to evening like Pappy Gillespie said it should be. I didn’t think I would be able to make it, but we were successful. When called upon to again teach the adult Sunday school class, I felt that I would be unable to do it, weakened as I was by the fast. However, as I taught the class, I felt strengthened and uplifted by the spirit, and this in turn increased my testimony of the law of the fast. We left the house late that morning, and came home early. Slowest Sunday ever. Monday, February 2, 1998 I talked briefly with the Prez on the phone this morning. The man truly is inspired of God. Today was the Día de la Candelaria, and as such I bought pizzas for everyone in the house. I had been the one who had gotten the plastic mono in the cake on January 5, so it was my duty to provide some sort of service for those present that evening. They weren’t the best pizzas in the world, but they were pizzas, and that meant they were good enough. I taught a mediocre lesson to my district that evening about the meaning of the phase “true and living church.” Earlier that day, Elder Jenson and I went to Panuco’s idea of a museum. There wasn’t a whole lot—two or three displays about the Totonaca culture and a few fake Olmec statues. Oh well, it was free. I wrote a bunch of letters and sent some photos home. Last night a killer storm swept through the area, blew my window open and all. It didn’t rain much, but there was lots of wind and lightning. Our interview with our zone leader that evening was less than inspiring. His interview style was brusque, businesslike, and completely lacking in warmth. Once again Elder Rios destroyed my confidence in him. Elder Jenson and I were now in full revolt against our zone leader.

Extracts from a Letter to my Parents “Elder Jenson and I have been working our butts off. We gave thirty-six charlas this week, thirty-seven the week before, and thirty-five the week before that. We’re floating above the zone average, and plan to have some baptisms in the coming week. I have so much fun with Elder Jenson; there’s just so much that I can do with an English-speaking companion that I couldn’t do with my previous native Spanish-speakers.” Tuesday, February 3, 1998 A day of ups and downs. We swung by an investigator’s house and she was killing crabs in the concrete wash sink outside her home. We spent some time talking to her, watching her crab-killing technique. It was neat and interesting. 471

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At the home of another investigator, we called out a greeting, but then she slowly closed and locked her door, hoping we wouldn’t notice. Didn’t work. Juan Israel got his hands on some anti-Mormon literature, so we’ll have to work hard on that front and see how he progresses. Like we did with the Jehovah’s Witness books the previous month, we also plotted to steal his anti-Mormon literature. We asked for a drink of water, and as soon as he left the room, the pamphlet flew into Elder Jenson’s backpack. I was really feeling positive about some things, but at the same time we are struggling. I just want to baptize. I know what I need to do to achieve it. We need to be working hard, invoking the spirit in everything we do and say. To that end, Elder Jenson and I began plotting our course. In the morning we decorated our house with a bunch of Ensign photos. The idea had come from my companion, who noted that missionary apartments in the United States are often decorated with inspiring artwork. In place of a companionship study that morning, we searched for appropriate pictures in the back issues of the Ensign that I had been slowly accumulating during the past year. At first, I was unwilling to sacrifice my precious magazines for the cause of beautifying and edifying our home environment, but Elder Jenson, ever the pragmatist, pointed out that once I had read them once, I had never gone back and re-read any of them. The decorations make the house feel different. Wednesday, February 4, 1998 We had a very difficult day. I was ready to throw in the towel and call it quits. We discovered that our revered zone leader had been entering our area and holding unauthorized interviews with Juan Israel. We were outraged by this breach of protocol. When we confronted Elder Rios about it, he claimed that our investigator felt more comfortable talking with him than he did talking to us. We replied that it was not his place to make that decision without informing us. Elder Jenson and I had been given stewardship over that particular area of Panuco, and with the Lord’s help, we would be successful. Other complaints for that day included the fact that we had no Books of Mormon, and none of our appointments were home. Several months earlier, when we had a shortage of Books of Mormon, we had used a pamphlet which contained the thirteenth chapter of Third Nephi. However, since that time, some questions had been raised concerning copyrights and legality of the use of the pamphlet. Thus, during this latter shortage, we had no literature to give to new investigators. The legal issues were eventually sorted out, and later missionaries used the pamphlet much more freely than we ever did. We were working just for numbers for the better part of the day. And then, glory hallelujah, we finished with a great experience with Ruben. If he doesn’t get baptized, the church ain’t true. We took him through an “Empty Church Open House (ECOH),”a concept that Elder Jenson picked up while serving in Cincinnati. The purpose of the ECOH was to introduce Ruben and his family to the church building in a no-pressure, low-key environment. As a district leader, I had the keys to the church building, so I invited Ruben, Soledad,

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and the kids to tour the building. That evening, after the night’s activities had ceased and everyone had gone home, we walked them through the chapel, showed them the baptismal font, and taught them the third charla while sitting in front of said font. At the end of the discussion, we showed them a picture of the temple, told them about temple ordinances which would allow their family to be together forever, and our goal that their family to be eternal. Since Madero, I had been carrying around a copy of the Proclamation on the Family. The spirit told me that this moment was the reason I’d held on to it for so long, so we finished the discussion by giving Ruben and Soledad a copy of that important document detailing the central role of families. Being on hallowed ground, with no one around, just the missionaries and their message, provided an opportunity for the spirit to testify in a way that it could not have done in any other way. They really felt the spirit. To this day, I consider that evening to be one of the most sacred, awe-inspiring teaching moments of my mission. If they don’t get baptized, we’ll have failed as missionaries. Thursday, February 5, 1998 Today was Elder Jenson’s Hump Day. We celebrated by having an excellent day. We started with a fun charla five to our perpetual investigator, Olivia. We can get her on track within a matter of weeks. We had stopped teaching her discussions when we discovered the complicated moral situation in which Olivia was living. Elder Jenson and I drew up a plan for her, and we proceeded once more with the discussions. We found a new family shortly thereafter. A fairly average morning. In the afternoon we taught an excellent second charla to Cristina. It was textbook perfect. Discussions like that were few and far between. It seemed that every answer that Cristina gave us that day came straight from the Missionary Guide. Elder Jenson and I responded in kind, and were able to teach as if we were doing a simple MTC exercise. She’s going down into the waters of baptism. Unfortunately, Cristina was another young woman eager to hear the discussions but lacking parental consent or support to continue listening to our message. We tried to animate Juan Israel. We were bold, and the spirit was strong. I asked what he felt, he identified the spirit, I asked what more does he want, what greater confirmation could he ask for than from God. We even read scripture to that effect (Doctrine and Covenants 6:22-23). When all was said and done, we finished with nine charlas. The high point of the evening was during our visit with Ruben. Ruben told us that he and his wife had read the Proclamation that we had given him last night. They agreed with the concepts and were eager to learn more about our message.

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Friday, February 6, 1998 Chyais! My shoes are killing me again. I came limping in the door with a monstrous blister on my right foot. It really took a lot out of our productivity. We gave service in the morning, chopping down and trimming trees. I was just getting into it, too, up high in the twisted branches of an old plum tree, when Elder Jenson called me down from my maniacal massacre. I’ve got a blister on my right hand from that as well. Elder Jenson, who had been heavily involved in horticulture and landscaping before his mission, loved these types of service projects. He was in his element. I, on the other hand, just hacked and hacked away, with no method to my madness. It was thanks to Elder Jenson’s timely intervention that I did not hack the plum tree to death. Later in the day, we made some visits. Cristina is still so darn cool. She’s going down; she’s getting wet. We had an FHE with Andres and family that went over fairly well. Andres had been baptized months before, and we were working on bringing his wife, son, and daughter into the fold. We were having great success with his wife and son, but not so much with his daughter. It was a long and tiring day, but at the end of it, I could honestly say that I felt happy, tired, satisfied, and sore. That’s me. Saturday, February 7, 1998 Elder Rios makes me so darn mad. Maybe he’s not the reason Juan Israel is disanimated, but he went into that pre-interview three weeks ago so excited, and now he’s afraid of baptism. Today I talked with Elder Fister, one of the assistants to the president. He told me that the longest interview he had ever done was just over an hour, after which the investigator had to speak to the First Presidency. Elder Rios has met with Juan Israel on multiple occasions for a total of three and a half hours! I want to know what kind of questions are being asked. Six months previous, while I had been serving in Huejutla, Pan Bimbo had run a promotion for the Disney movie Hercules. I collected all twenty-seven jugetes and even bought the album to place them in. Hearing of my accomplishment, Elder Jenson decided to start his own collection. That month, Pan Bimbo was running an NFL promotion. Each package of sweetbreads or roles contained a small magnet depicting the helmet of an NFL team. Elder Jenson was bound and determined to collect all thirty helmets, a goal which he did eventually achieve. We invited another musa to be baptized. I hope all goes well. I hope to see a bunch of investigators in church. Sunday, February 8, 1998 Por fin! We had a baptism. We finally got Clara wet. It wasn’t the most professional baptism in the history of the gospel, but at least it got done. The water level was just above the knee, so we had troubles getting Clara all the way under. In fact, I had to dunk her three times.

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After completing the baptism, Clara asked why we had to perform it three times. According to Luz, who told this story with a hearty laugh a year later, I allegedly told Clara that we had to baptize her three times because she had so many sins. After a brief pause, I finally gave her the real answer—that she had not been fully immersed the first two times and thus had to repeat the ordinance. Although I have no personal recollection of this exchange, Luz said that she will always remember Elder Barrett for this humorous (and highly inappropriate) remark. Perhaps those who know me best will not find Luz’s story that difficult to believe. The other big highlight was Ruben’s attendance in church. In fact, his whole family came and, while the niños (Dantes, Reyes, and Anderson) got bored with the first hour, they really enjoyed Primary. I really want to see this family in the font. They are top priority. The elementary school where Ruben was principal had a strong and active Parent-Teacher Association. Oddly enough, the president of the PTA had been baptized six months ago, and we had just baptized the PTA secretary that day—Clara. We figured that such was a good omen, indicating future success with Ruben and Soledad. I’m happy. I felt the spirit so strongly during my studies today. I think I’m finally into a routine that I’ll be able to carry over into civilian life. Monday, February 9, 1998 It was P-Day and I slept a lot. We went to the Centro but the freaking bank wouldn’t change our dollars for pesos. District meeting was same old same old with Elder Rios’s straight-faced, no-nonsense, monotone, rapid-fire presentation. Elder Jenson is ready to kill him. After shopping at the Modelos Supermarket, Elder Jenson and I rested briefly on a bench in Panuco’s main plaza. There, we were contacted by a musa in a mini-skirt who showed us her book about sexual conduct. This was the same young woman who worked in the ice cream store that Elder Jenson and I always went to on Monday evenings. She sat down next to us and pulled out her book. She then asked us what we thought of it, and we made polite noises, and excused ourselves as quickly as possible. I would have passed on that experience. I finished my day with some contemplation on our roof, under the full moon, looking at the stars, and thinking of He who created all those worlds without end. I though of all He did for me. He makes it all possible. God is so true! Tuesday, February 10, 1998 A good day, I suppose. We started by contacting a Baptist minister who didn’t make sense. Throughout our discussion with him, he kept taking positions that were contrary to previous positions that he had espoused. We were unsure exactly where he stood on many issues. We were polite to him because he’s a Clara’s cousin, and has been “converted” now for some five years. He tried to

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teach us, but he ran away with his tail between his legs. That is, he made a hasty exit after talking to us for several minutes. We also sat and talked with Soledad. Ruben wasn’t home at the time, but we were able to chat with his wife. She and Ruben really enjoyed the church services on Sunday. This pleases us immensely. On other fronts, Andres, son of Andres, seems to be avoiding us. We had been making such good progress with that young man, and then peer pressure turned him away from our influence. We were able to get him back on track shortly thereafter, but it was frustrating nonetheless. All in all a rather regular day. Nothing to write home about. If we can only get Ruben wet, it’d make up for all my other blunders and mistakes from the past year and a half. I’d feel that I have not labored in vain. Even if I’m not here to see it, if they get baptized, I’ll feel so satisfied. Wednesday, February 11, 1998 Elder Jenson’s alarm clock didn’t go off this morning, so we arose late. Thus, it was all his fault that we didn’t have the spirit today. I’ve returned to mediocre days. We tried to fly an FHE with Ruben but it didn’t get off the ground. It really wasn’t a day that deserves journal recognition. However, I have a goal, and I will write every day. My study plan is going well. It’s manageable, yet monumental. If I continue with this method, I’ll read all the Standard Works this year, and some of them two or three times. I’m happy. Earlier that week, I had heard from friends in Tampico that President Gillespie had taken a personal interest in my lack of baptisms. I did not understand why the mission president should focus on my work, and I irrationally concluded that I had somehow lost the companionship of the spirit. Casting about in my mind for some small indiscretion which may have caused the heavens to withdraw from me, my mind recalled some small peccadilloes that I committed while serving in Barrio Independencia. In an effort to regain the spirit, I planned to talk to the Prez the following day, confess my weaknesses to him, and hopefully be able to feel the spirit once more. Tomorrow will be a trial. But I know that I can be happy in my life. Thursday, February 12, 1998 President Gillespie is so true. I had an interview with him today. Having felt unworthy of late, I asked a blessing at his hand. I began by telling him that I had heard that he was worried about my lack of baptisms. He interrupted to correct me. What he had said was the he was worried that I was so overwrought about my own baptismal deficiencies. I reflected on his words. Yes, I had been unduly hard on myself, not fully seeing the good I had accomplished in the face of the challenging areas in which the president had assigned me to work. However, I insisted that my lack of success must be because I had done something to lose the spirit. Before I could confess anything further, President

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Gillespie held up his hand to stop me. “It’s a sobering thought, isn’t it?” he asked me. I looked at him quizzically, and he explained further. “We are servants of God, and yet we are still human. We have human weaknesses. They are nothing to be ashamed of. The atonement of Christ has paid for all of my sins, and failures, and weaknesses. I may be a mess, but I am His mess.” His words filled me with such love and hope, and his further counseling helped me to recognize that I hadn’t been missing the spirit during these last months. What was truly bothering me was opposition from Satan. His whisperings during the previous weeks had effectively created doubts in my mind and caused me to slack in my missionary efforts. The adversary was afraid of the work I was doing in Panuco and would do anything he could to overthrow it. President Gillespie spent a moment or two more counseling me, and then gave me a most wonderful blessing. This must have done something, because we finished the day with nine charlas. It sure didn’t start that way. President Gillespie told me that I have a mission-wide reputation as a reader, a thinker, a questioner. Although it was nice to hear, I doubt that it’s true. I learned later how true it really was. Elders that I had never met had heard of me and often approached me during conferences and juntas to ask me doctrinal questions. I think this may be a fulfillment of certain promises made to me in my patriarchal blessing. Oh well, I guess my reputation could be worse. I love Pappy Gillespie. Friday, February 13, 1998 I woke up feeling miserable, so we didn’t venture out in the morning. My earlier cold had returned—sniffling, sneezing, wheezing, coughing. I don’t know what’s happening to my body; it just quit working or something. We did leave in the afternoon, however. Despite the fact that it was Friday the 13th, Elder Jenson and I explored the cemetery as dusk was settling in. There’s just something cool about Mexican graveyards. They lack the septic order of American cemeteries. They have character, born from intricate carvings, overgrown grass, and uneven rows of tombstones. I had explored a cemetery in Matamoros with Elder Rule, nearly a year ago, and come to the same conclusions then that I did now. We saw several old, rusty coffins, speculated on the resurrection, and observed the special team of groundskeepers—a herd of cows wandering between the grave markers. We did find a Gump family that seems to show potential. They lived near the cemetery, behind the baseball field. They were sincere and helpful and optimistic, with a touch of naiveté and innocence. We hope to baptize again soon. Saturday, February 14, 1998 We’re progressing with Ruben, not at the rate that we’d like, but allí vamos. We had an average day, though we walked a ton. My legs were so darn tired. We got stuck in a rainstorm, but took refuge with the Gump family. When it let up, we continued on our way, trudging through the mud and marveling at

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how the lightning played across the night sky. Ruben was surprised when we showed up on his doorstep. He had assumed that, due to the inclement weather, we would not show up for our scheduled appointment. He was rather touched to learn that we had traversed the mud and rain to be with him and his family. That night we sat around the living room, drank hot chocolate, and shared funny stories about our missions. Hence my lament at the beginning of this entry. I knew that we were progressing with Ruben. Each week we visited him, it became easier to talk with him about the gospel, and our goals for his family. But I still didn’t know how to move them towards a speedy baptism, nor was I certain if I believed a speedy baptism was right for this family. The standard paradigm that the mission was operating under at the time was a belief that conversions were better if they were quick and effective. I rebelled against that belief, time and time again. I think Ruben’s later solidarity in the gospel cause vindicates the position I espoused in those days. Elder Jenson and I are really working hard, but we’re just coming up dry. I know the Lord will bless us, I just don’t know when. I think our days together are numbered. I had a bad feeling that Elder Jenson would be transferred soon. Because of the time he spent waiting stateside for his visa to clear, he had now reached the halfway point of his mission as a junior companion. We both knew that he would soon become a senior companion. We shall see. Sunday, February 15, 1998 Elder Rios just keeps making me mad. We had to run by the chapel on legitimate business this morning; his branch was there, but he didn’t even acknowledge our presence. He saw us, but he ignored Elder Jenson and I. No word of hello, no friendly wave. What a punk. Tonight he told us that he has the transfers, but won’t tell us anything. This isn’t how transfers in the past were handled. I’m about to go over his head to Elder Jorgenson. I want to know if this is a new rule, or if Elder Rios is acting in an arbitrary and capricious manner. Elder Carrillo never did things like that. On a positive note, Ruben was in church and is really beginning to be sucked into it. We’ll need to work a little more with the kids, but allí vamos. Elder Jenson had been studying the Old Testament, and earlier in the month had come across a rather disturbing story in Genesis. We discussed the story, and explored various reasons for its inclusion in the canon. I confidently told Elder Jenson that I would find a way to work the story into a sacrament meeting talk. The branch president called on me this Sunday to give a talk, and as I looked out on the congregation, I saw Elder Jenson looking back at me expectantly. Thus I plunged into the story of how Simeon and Judah offered their sister in marriage to a prince of the land, but only if the monarch would agree to be circumcised, along with his entire city. While the men of the city were recovering from the operation, Simeon and Judah slaughtered the lot of them. I used this story as an example of how not to treat new converts. I then proceeded to recap

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President Hinckley’s talk on the subject. Through it all, Elder Jenson maintained a calm composure, though I detected a mischievous twinkle in his eye. Monday, February 16, 1998 Well, the punk finally called me this morning with the changes. It appears that Elder Jenson is heading north—to good ole Matamoros. He was, as we expected, assigned to work as a senior companion in that faraway city. Elder Acosta is also taking off. I’ve been called to be a trainer again. This’ll make number four. Elder Randall will also be training. Our P-Day was rather fast— wash and nap. I’d really like to try to get along with my ZL. But at the same time there’s something inside of me that wants to hold a grudge. I know what I should do; I just never thought that choosing the right would be so hard. If I ever wanted to live like Christ, I need to start by loving my neighbor. I’ll make an effort to have a good relationship with Elder Rios. Perhaps sensing the tension in the zone, perhaps aware of the hard feelings that Elder Jenson and I harbored against our zone leader, President Gillespie moved to bring peace once more to Panuco. To this end, he sent Elder Rios a new companion, to be a co-zone leader with him. This new zone leader was given direct stewardship over me and my district, would perform my weekly interviews, and go on splits with me once a month. The Prez called on an old and dear friend of mine to heal the broken zone. Elder Shaw will work with Elder Rios as a co-zone leader here in Panuco. Tuesday, February 17, 1998 Cambios came and went. Elder Shaw is a new ZL, with Rios here in Panuco. Elder Acosta went to Tanquián as comp to Elder Meza. Elders Watkins and Stauffer are also zone leaders (in Valle Hermoso and Tampico, respectively.) Elder Avila is a district leader. Elder Smith is having a tough time in my old area (Barrio Independencia), but he’s enjoying himself. Elder Van Slyke is now a district leader, supervising my old pal Elder Jimenez. I realized a few days later that I was the only member of my MTC generation to never have served as a zone leader. I was slightly disappointed by the thought, but I got over it fairly quickly. I had enough challenges as a district leader and as a trainer without borrowing additional worries. I went to Tampico and received my new comp, Elder Gayoso from Quintana Roo. I’m already missing Elder Jenson. We had such a good time together. It was nice seeing a bunch of old friends again, and doing the trainer’s meeting for the fourth time. I was told that this was a mission record; no missionary before me had ever trained more than three elders. It was nice to hear, but I was unsure how relevant the factoid was.

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Wednesday, February 18, 1998 It was my first day with Elder Gayoso. I had forgotten what it’s like working with a greenie. His faith and enthusiasm are untempered by experience. His teaching style still has yet to be developed. Right now he reads the charla, asks the questions, and I go through and clarify and correct his teachings without stepping on his toes. I still remembered how annoyed I got with those senior companions who did not respect me and my determined efforts to teach the gospel. Those vivid memories helped me to develop a teaching style that also helped me to become a better trainer. In teaching with Elder Gayoso, I would often refer back to the principles he taught, and by so doing, clarify the points that I felt he hadn’t adequately made. “My companion talked about how…” or “you’ll remember how Elder Gayoso mentioned…” In this way I felt that I was able to clarify any doctrines he had taught inadequately, help my greenie feel a part of the teaching process, and demonstrate to him proper teaching techniques. And I was able to do all of this without dominating the charla. In the evening, we passed by Ruben’s house, but he wasn’t in. We talked with his wife; I really feel good about the direction that we’re headed with this family. Elder Randall is also training, and having a fun time as well. I think I’ll ask President Gillespie to lend me a couple of books. I’d love to read Jeffrey R. Holland’s book about the doctrines of Christ as found in the Book of Mormon. The book was called Christ and the New Covenant. Thursday, February 19, 1998 Once again, I need to learn how to love a companion who has replaced someone that I loved. My new comp combines all the aggravating qualities that I found so endearing in Elders Jimenez, Monroy and Garcia. I’m hoping it’s just his greenie zeal and he’s trying to impress me. I hope it wears off in a couple of days. If not, I’ll just have to help him to develop and grow. I’m so tired right now. We had a difficult day with appointments falling out and stuff. I really miss Elder Jenson, and the jokes that we shared. Even those that I can translate aren’t funny in Spanish. One of my favorite in-jokes that I shared with Elder Jenson was the convoluted logic that brought us to the conclusion that Homer Simpson was God. Reading through my Church Almanac, we discovered that the town of Springville, UT had a Kolob Stake. Since Kolob was the star closest to God’s throne, and since Springville was where Homer Simpson lived (a mistaken premise, since the Simpsons live in Springfield, not Springville), we came to the conclusion that Homer Simpson was the power behind the universe. I also missed the way Elder Jenson and I would use the word “so.” Inspired by Elder Schaeffer, who was in Elder Jenson’s MTC district, we would often say things like “the gospel is soooooo awesome,” or “President Gillespie is sooooo true.” I missed Elder Jenson a lot. I missed his funny stories, his practical wisdom, and the good-time goofing off that we did. Sigh.

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I just got off the phone with Elder Shaw. He’s such a cool guy. And to think that I didn’t like him the first time we went on a division together. After having worked with him for only a couple of hours in Matamoros, I had concluded that Elder Shaw did not know how to laugh. Whether I was wrong then, or whether he had learned sometime during the intervening year, I was able to confidently conclude that He now knows how to laugh. Friday, February 20, 1998 I hate trying to adjust to changes in the mission. I’m having a tough time adjusting to my new companion who just doesn’t float my boat. Tonight, he insisted that he had already met Juan Israel, but I told him no, we hadn’t. I explained to him who this particular investigator was, and he nodded his head, insisting that he had met the young man. I was right, of course. When we did visit with Juan Israel, Elder Gayoso was surprised that they had not yet met. To top off my list of aggravations and complaints, my new companion sings badly and does not read silently. Perhaps I shouldn’t be the one to complain about bad singing, but at least I recognized my musical inadequacies. I cringed every time my new companion belted out “Israel, Israel God is Calling,” or “Now let us Rejoice.” His scripture study also grated on my nerves as he quietly whispered to himself as he read. I should be more charitable to my erstwhile companion, for he was honest and earnest and tried his best. Unfortunately, he was filling Elder Jenson’s shoes, and I resented him for it. The highlight of the day was the funeral I had for my shoes. We buried them in Alicia’s yard, put up a cross, and placed flowers on the grave. I later learned that Alicia’s daughter dug up the shoes, which had been placed in a plastic bag before burial, and gave them to a poor, unemployed man who lived in a small hut behind their home. I was somewhat chagrined that I had not thought to do that with my shoes in the first place, but gratified that Alicia had raised her daughters to think of such things. Elder Gayoso didn’t think I was very funny. I had a blast; on the other hand. I just don’t like life right now; I wish I could go back to those weeks and months with Elder Jenson. Saturday, February 21, 1998 Wow! What a great day. The original entry for this date listed eight reasons why this day was so wonderful. In expanding this entry, I’ve had to remove the numbered list, but each paragraph roughly corresponds to a point on that previous list. President Thomas S. Monson, first counselor in the First Presidency, and Elder Henry B. Eyring, of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles, had come to Tampico to host a regional conference. The conference itself would be held on Sunday, but the day before, these two prophets held various meetings and conferences. Included in their itinerary was a mission-wide conference, the first time since I had been in the mission field that the entire Mexico Tampico Mission had met together under a single roof.

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The Panuco zone got an early start, though not as early as some of the more distant zones. We only had to travel an hour north. On the bus ride up to Tampico, I was able to relax and laugh with Elder Rios. The two of us sat together, talked, and though neither of us mentioned it explicitly, we were able to put our feud behind us and move forward in a more positive direction. The mission conference was held in the Tampico Stake building, and because of the comprehensive nature of the meeting, I saw a bunch of old buddies—Elders Van Slyke, Sanchez, Camaal, Burch, Earl, Bautista, Smith, Meza, and so forth. There were two especially wonderful moments in the preconference socializing. The first was a reunion with all of my greenies. We took photos of the five of us—a proud father and his four wonderful hijos (Avila, Garcia, Ramos, and Gayoso). The second moment was the reunion of MTC district 60-B. This was the first time since our arrival in the field that all eight of us had been together. Of the eight, one was now assistant to the president, one was a branch president in Soto la Marina, and five were zone leaders. I was proud of each and every one of them, and proud to be included in their number. The conference was amazing. It followed the general format of most of our other conferences, but instead of having a training session with the AP’s, we heard some wonderful discourses from Elder Eyring and President Monson. Elder Eyring’s talk, in particular, had a profound impact on me. In his talk, he mimicked the common rejection line that we had all heard numerous times—“I’m Catholic. I was born Catholic. I will die Catholic.” He told us that he knew the weight of the charge that was laid upon our backs. I felt that he was looking right at me, talking right to me, and I knew that he truly understands the difficulties of missionary work. As we filed out of the chapel, we shook hands with these men of God, and then outside on the green grass, flanked by two palm trees, we had a mission photo taken with them. I still have a copy of this photo, buried in a box of mission memorabilia. Prior to the conference, I had asked the president if I could borrow a certain book from him. He agreed, but forgot to bring the book with him to the stake center. Some creative logistics were employed to place the book in my hands. Elder Gayoso and I rode back to the mission home with the Gillespies, where the Prez lent me a book about the Savior written by Elder Holland. Sister Gillespie had to return to the stake center to deliver something to another elder, and since Sister Gillespie did not like driving on Mexican streets, I got to chauffer Hermana Gillespie to the Stake Center and back to the mission home in the president’s powerful Blazer. I was a little nervous; after not having driven an automobile in a year and a half, I suddenly had to learn to navigate those crazy Mexican streets with the president’s wife in the president’s new Blazer. However, as we pulled into the parking lot at the stake center, I was seen of all my peers acting in my capacity as temporary chauffer. The envious look I thus received made up for the stress I experienced in having to chauffer the mission president’s wife. On the way back to the mission home, Sister Gillespie actually chided me for driving too cautiously. With the mission president’s wife safely delivered back to the mission home, Elder Gayoso and I walked the short distance back towards the bus station.

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On the way we stopped at a newly built supermarket, Soriana, and there I bought some dreamy American-style donuts. As much as I loved Mexican pastry, I had certainly missed the pastries from my native land. While we were there, I also bought an accordion file, something I had been looking to purchase for some time. I wanted an easy and efficient way to store and file all of the letters I had received while on my mission. We returned to Panuco, filled with the spirit and energized by everything we had seen and heard and done. With all of that positive energy surrounding us, we visited our most important investigators and shared with them some spiritual thoughts. We even had an FHE with Ruben and Soledad. At the end of that wonderful day, I could only think of one word to summarize the entire experience—Wow! Sunday, February 22, 1998 We headed up to Tampico again for a regional conference. The conference was held in a university gymnasium. I was, and still am, unfamiliar with Tampico proper, so I do not recall the name of the university, nor where in the city it was located. I do remember what a wonderful day it was, topping off the most spiritually invigorating weekend of my mission. As I was heading in to the gymnasium, I saw Hermana Consuelo, from Huejutla. She was waiting for the rest of the Huejutla branch. I waited with her. When they saw me, there was so much love, energy, and excitement. Little threeyear-old Katia, upon seeing me ran into my arms and gave me a big hug. I was so happy to see these wonderful people, and it was a joy to feel their love for me. As I was sharing greetings all around, I felt a hand on my shoulder. I turned around and stood facing Chela and her two daughters. Several months ago, I had heard that Chela had been baptized, but it was a joy and a surprise to me to hear about the progress that the rest of her family had made, and were still making. I will always love Huejutla. I also saw Macaria, one of Elder Tonks’s baptisms in Madero. She remembered me fondly, for some reason, though I played but a small role in her conversion story. In fact, the only thing I recall doing was performing her baptismal interviews and eating dinner at her home the Sunday after her baptism. For whatever reason, Macaria and I had a wonderful conversation. I walked away knowing that she was going to stay strong in the gospel. She is so cool. During the conference, while listening to Elder Eyring and President Monson, I felt so happy and peaceful. I leaned over and whispered to Elder Shaw, “My joy is full.” He looked at me, nodded, and put his arm around my shoulders. We were brothers in arms, servants of the same God. At that moment, however, Satan tried one more desperate attack on my soul. Sighting Esmerelda in the conference choir, my mind was filled with remorse and sorrow that I had ever let my mission be slowed down by a pretty face. I refocused my attention on the speaker, and once more the spirit filled me. I may be a mess, but I’m His mess.

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The Panuco branches had chartered several small buses for the trip to Tampico that Sunday. Although we had all traveled north together, we did not all make the return trip together. Elder Randall and his companion missed the bus, and instead caught a ride with the bus chartered by the Huejutla branch. I felt somewhat sheepish that I had lost half my district in Tampico, and I ruefully shook my head at the whole situation. I’ve been reading Jeffrey R. Holland’s book about Christ, and, well, I just feel so close to God. I know God lives. I know He loves me. I know He hears and answers when I pray. I know His Son is my Redeemer, and that He died for me that I may live with Him eternally someday. I know the doctrines and principles of the gospel well enough to avoid the turmoil and confusion caused when the philosophies of men get mingled with scripture. I have never felt the Holy Spirit like I did this weekend. It was a constant, uplifting peace and serenity, and at times it was a fiery and energetic surge. The only damper is that we’ve worked very little this week. Satan, of course, has tried his darndest to bring me down, but I have recognized his wily plans for what they are—deceit. I may not have been the sharpest arrow in the Lord’s quiver these past two years, but a firm foundation of future service has been laid. I love my Father in Heaven so much! I want to serve Him for the rest of my life! This weekend was a watershed moment in my mission. The last four months of my mission found me at peak spiritual performance. Never before had I been so confident in myself, nor so reliant upon the Lord. Never before had I taught the gospel with such power, nor had I ever felt the spirit so constantly. I attribute all those wonderful blessings to this one weekend, a weekend that lifted me up, filled me with the power and love of God, and encouraged me to reach towards my fullest potential. Monday, February 23, 1998 It was just an average P-Day—nothing outstanding to report. I’m plugging along, doing the best I can. During this last month I’ve felt so empty, but tonight, after my first interview with Elder Shaw, I’m ready to move forward with faith. My new zone leader expressed so much love and respect for me, that I could no longer believe that I was a failure. I told Elder Shaw how frustrated I was that I hadn’t baptized very many people in the last six months. Elder Shaw told me that the dam was about to burst, that all the success that had been denied me would come pouring down upon my head. I know that my Heavenly Father wants me to succeed. He really is on my side. I’ve made my choices; I know what promises I will make, what sacrifices I will consecrate in order to achieve baptism in the month of March. I really want to make the most of these days. I know that they won’t last forever. I’m going to give everything that I have to this work. I know that I will succeed.

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Tuesday, February 24, 1998 Well, I got in my goals for the first day’s work, though I think I may have to set goals again for loving my comp. I haven’t really had to do that for a year now, not since I left Matamoros. I was able to learn to love Elder Jimenez, in a way, and I knew that I could learn to love Elder Gayoso. My new companion, however, provided a unique challenge—he did not really belong in the mission field. There had been some confusion over his date of birth, and although he had only recently turned eighteen (or so he believed) he had been sent to Tampico to preach and teach and work. This translated into a lethargic attitude on his part, and he went nearly his entire mission as a junior companion. I tried to teach him as best I could, though it was difficult on those days when my love for him ran shallow. Today he tried to correct my teaching technique as well as scold me for playing with leashed dogs. In the evening I tried to explain something to him— about being healthily skeptical about things that come hearsay. I just couldn’t get through to the boy. He thought I was telling him not to believe the words of the prophets, when all I was trying to teach him was that he shouldn’t accept as gospel truth everything that someone claims came out of the mouth of a prophet. The thing is that his mental framework isn’t quite correct, and to teach him efficiently, I need to set it right. Ruben had talked to some friends at work about his friendship with the Mormon missionaries, and one of his colleagues, a Jehovah’s Witness, asked if he too could visit with the family. Ruben agreed, but did not tell us about the appointment. Thus, when we showed up to visit with the family that night, we surprised Ruben’s TJ friends. I avoided contending with them too much. In fact, as soon as we appeared on the doorstep, they made a hasty exit. We talked with Ruben and Soledad afterwards, and discovered that they had been unimpressed with the Jehovah’s Witness doctrine, as had been presented to them that night. I was happy to know that they were still progressing towards baptism. Kind of. Wednesday, February 25, 1998 My companion is really getting on my nerves. Today, after we finished lunch, we walked west of Alicia’s home, heading to another appointment. After having served so much time in rural Mexico, I had picked up the local custom of strolling down the middle of residential streets. Very few people in these pueblitos own cars, so it made sense to most people to use the road for pedestrian traffic, even if a sidewalk was present. My companion, who was walking on the poorly maintained sidewalk, asked me to get out of the road. I assured him that walking in the road was perfectly acceptable behavior, but he would not hear of it. What if a car came along? he asked. I replied that the car would go around me, to which he told me to be humble. I was pretty annoyed with him for this remark; and this in addition to all the other little corrections and suggestions he tries to make in my proselyting style.

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I sometimes wonder if I’ve been as effective a tool in my Lord’s hands as I could be. I’m just not very good at resolving doubts. Many missionaries can get right down to the heart of the matter, but I tend to believe that people are being honest with me. If they tell me they have such a doubt, I believe it. I don’t immediately think there is another, deeper doubt. Elder Wright, on the other hand, was able to get to the heart of every misgiving an investigator had. He was such a phenomenal elder, that the president created a special calling for him. He had all the teaching responsibilities of an assistant to the president, but none of the administrative duties. He was often dispatched to work in uncooperative areas or with troubled companionships to teach them how to work more effectively. Elder Wright, who had begun his mission in the dusty little town of Soto la Marina, ended his mission with this unique leadership calling. I worked with Elder Wright briefly that afternoon, and felt a kinship with him. He and I both began our missions working in Soto la Marina. We had both begun our missionary training under the tutelage of Elder Lopez. I was witness to the fulfillment of Sister Goodman’s prophecy. Elder Wright truly was one of the mission’s most dynamic and influential elders. When I saw him in action, I envied him his talents. I suppose that is why he baptized so many. Tonight we had a Noche de Hogar with Ruben and Soledad. We invited Luz and Julio to attend and begin fellowshipping their family. It was, as were all the Family Home Evenings I planned in the mission field, fraught with snags, problems, and hindrances. Once we got it started, though, it turned out alright. Thursday, February 26, 1998 What an excellent day. Elder Shaw and I got together and had us a division. I really learned a lot from him. We finally got Ruben and Soledad progressing towards a specific baptismal date. I was in awe of how easily Elder Shaw was able to get Ruben and Soledad to agree on a baptismal date. He had never met them before, but was able to connect with them very quickly. He drew a picture of a race track, and talked about a race with no finish line. If the runners didn’t know where to stop, they would just keep running and running and running. In a similar manner, he explained, Ruben and Soledad needed a baptismal date, something to aim for. And if they miss their aim, a new goal can be set. What is important is working towards a goal. We also met some Catholics who worshipped the Virgin Barbara, a patron saint of soldiers whose name is invoked in times of danger. They told us her story, showed us their emblems, and let us examine their altar. It was all so very apostate. They did not accept our message; they were too attached to Saint Barbara. But our exchange had been a pleasant one, filled with respect for the beliefs of the other party. This nice family even gave us each a glass of aguamiel (honey water), a by-product of the sugar refining process. Later, we found out that aguamiel is normally a fermented drink. Whether ours was or not, we will never know.

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Elder Shaw and I had fun together reminiscing of our Matamoros days together. I kept calling him Elder Jenson all day, evidence as to how much I miss my erstwhile companion. During this division, Elder Gayoso went out working with Elder Rios and learned a thing or three. Our recent cease-fire had lasted for nearly a week, an uneasy peace had settled between the two of us. I was grateful that I was finally able to put our bad feelings behind us, and I was also grateful for the assistance that he lent me in training my greenie. Although I did not always agree with his techniques, I knew that he had a lot of wisdom and experience that he could offer to Elder Gayoso. Friday, February 27, 1998 After having worked with Ruben for so many weeks, we finally got around to teaching him the fourth discussion. For some reason, we just didn’t connect with him on a level that was similar to previous discussions. Some element was missing from our charla. I walked away from the appointment somewhat dejected, unsure of how to proceed with the family. They had seemed so eager the night before when Elder Shaw was working with them, but on this evening, they seemed so distant. I did not know how to reach them. I didn’t know what else I could have done, other than that which I had already done. I gave it my all. I dug down deep and did all that I could. I now have to pray (and fast) as if it all depended on the Lord. I know that Elders Felley or Shaw or Wright or Fister could have done it tons better. However, I am but a weak and imperfect arrow in the quiver of my God. I don’t know why He would use such a scraggly li’l thing like me to take down such a big and important soul like Ruben. Despite the fact that my people skills have improved, I still lack the necessary skills and attributes that I need to be efficient. On to brighter topics...we gave service today, ate flautas, and gave only a few charlas. Our big visit today was Ruben and well...you know. Saturday, February 28, 1998 Last night, I decided that I needed to fast for Ruben. I’ve never had an incredibly strong testimony of the principle, but I know I need to do it. I, like the father of the Demonic in Caesarea Philippi, say unto my Lord—“Lord, I believe. Help thou my unbelief.” I plan on fasting for a full forty-eight hours, longer than I’ve ever fasted before. The Missionary Guide advises missionaries that twenty-four-hour fasts are usually sufficient, and discourages fasts for longer periods of time. I felt, however, that this desperate situation required desperate measures. I knew two things with certainty. First, that I could not bring Ruben into the waters of baptism using my own power. And second, that I was commanded by my mission president to bring this man and his family into the church. I therefore concluded that I needed an extra large dosage of the spirit if I were to accomplish that which President Gillespie had commanded me to do.

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Hence my decision to fast for forty-eight hours. I told no one of this action. I took several precautions to ensure that such a long fast would not be too detrimental on my health. First, I only worked a half day that Saturday. And second, I allowed myself to drink water during the first twenty-four hours of the fast. I spent long hours in prayer, pleading with my Father in Heaven that he would bless Ruben and Soledad, help them to make those decisions that would allow their family to be eternal. Today was difficult, but by the end, when I sat down, read the scriptures, and offered a deep and long prayer, my vision opened up, and now I feel so much closer to God. As a personal experience, it has brought me closer to my Heavenly Father. I only hope that it’ll do the same for Ruben. Sunday, March 1, 1998 Wow! What a fast. I had such profound, spiritual experiences today that I cannot but believe that fasting is a true part of faithful worship. What I still don’t understand is how my not eating is going to help Ruben get baptized. If I can have experiences like I had today, once a month for the rest of my life, I’ll be just a hop, skip, and a jump from the celestial kingdom. Tonight my mind has returned to BYU and the future that lies ahead. I’m really not trunky. I know I have a lot of work to do during these next months. I’m really starting to warm to my companion; I just needed time to adjust to the new situation. I think we’re ready now to baptize Ruben. I’m settled now. I’m happy. Which is usually when the other shoe drops. I was transferred out of Panuco the following day. For several months afterwards, I had no idea what the results of my fast had been, if any. Slowly, over the course of many months, I was able to piece together the following story. Ruben and Soledad, married with three kids, were not living the idealistic married life that we had assumed they were. Arguments frequently broke out between the two of them, and from time to time the shadow of a permanent separation loomed over their home. Our teachings about eternal families and the law of chastity, as contained in the fourth discussion, did not go over well with Ruben and Soledad because of the guilt and remorse that both Ruben and Soledad carried. That night, they both turned away from the gospel, the source that had sharpened their sorrow and pierced their souls. Unable to deal with that painful, godly sorrow, Ruben and Soledad discussed not only terminating the missionary discussions, but also their marriage. On Sunday night, hours after I had finished my two-day fast, Ruben had a dream. No one I have talked to has been able to tell me what occurred in Ruben’s head that night, but he awoke in the middle of the night with tears on his face. He crawled out of bed, and kneeling in the darkness offered the first heart-felt prayer of his life. He prayed for forgiveness, he prayed for his family, and he prayed for the salvation of his soul. The following morning, he informed his wife that they would continue with the discussions, they would be baptized, and they would work to solidify their crumbling marriage.

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Life began to improve for the family after Ruben’s late-night revelation. Peace and harmony reigned in their home, as both Ruben and Soledad struggled to mend their broken relationship. However, during this time, Soledad’s sister began distributing anti-Mormon literature to the family. At this point, Ruben’s faith was too firm to be toppled, but Soledad began to waver. The breaking point came after the fifth discussion, when Ruben committed to pay a full tithe. Soledad thought the decision to pay tithing was fiscally irresponsible and would put their family in danger. In addition to her doubts about tithing, Soledad’s mind had to contend with the lies and distortions that had been fed to her by her sister during the previous weeks. The threat of separation and divorce became a reality when Soledad moved out of her home and began living with her sister. While there, her head was filled with even more lies about the LDS church, and the breach between her husband widened. Their forward progress towards the Kingdom of God halted. I heard the news in far away Victoria, and despaired for their broken hearts. I felt that I had failed them somehow, that this situation would not have happened had I been more vigilant in my missionary duties. The missionaries then serving in Panuco, however, never gave up on Ruben and Soledad. Taking a page from the notebook of “super-secret television formulas” the two brave elders set up simultaneous appointments with each member of the broken marriage. Tricking Ruben and Soledad into meeting face to face was only the first challenge. Once they had been brought together in the elders’ apartment, the two faithful missionaries kept the couple sequestered late into the night, until old hurts had been healed, forgiveness had been granted, and doubts had been soothed. Two weeks later, Elder Shaw interviewed them for baptism. He found them worthy, and the family entered the waters of baptism. A few weeks after that, I was in a Zone Leader’s Council reviewing a report of the baptisms in the Tampico Mission for the previous month. I noted a number of baptisms in the Panuco Zone, and asked Elder Shaw, who was sitting next to me, if any of those baptisms were of people I had known. He smiled, put his arm around me, and told me about Ruben and Soledad’s baptsim. My heart thrilled at the news, and I had to blink away the tears that came to my eyes. It took me several more months to piece together the entire story, but each new fact testified to me how much the Lord had watched over and nurtured this family. When I visited with Ruben and Soledad a year later, I learned that Ruben Meza had been called to serve as second counselor in the branch presidency, and Soledad was serving in the Primary presidency. They moved to Reynosa six months later, and I lost track of this wonderful family. I know that I preformed my small role in that eternal drama by teaching Ruben and Soledad about the atonement of Jesus Christ and strengthening their commitment to the gospel cause. I know that the later elders played their role perfectly in healing their wounds and bringing them into the waters of baptism. However, neither of us can claim any credit for saving Ruben and Soledad. That work was done two thousand years ago in the garden of Gethsemane. The credit for their salvation goes to the Son of God, whose blood paid the infinite price for

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sin. Every day I live, I give thanks to the author of that divine atonement, whose personal touch not only reached the very depths of Ruben’s soul, but has also reached into mine, changing it forever. For as long as I live, and forever thereafter, I shall praise the name of my Lord and my Redeemer. Monday, March 2, 1998 It started out as just an ordinary P-Day, but now my world has been flipped, turned upside down. I visited with Elder Shaw in the morning, when he gave me the news that I was being transferred. He asked me to call the Mission President to receive my next assignment. He also added a cryptic comment about how hard I would work during my last months as a missionary. As I walked back to my apartment, I contemplated his words. I knew that Elder Bryson was going home that week, and I thought that maybe I had been called to replace him as the President’s secretary in the offices. Instead, the president has called me to be zone leader in Victoria. It’s making my head hurt and my stomach churn. In fact, I was in a state of shock for the rest of the day. At one point in my mission I had daydreamed about being a zone leader, but in recent months I had finally learned not to covet leadership positions. What was worse, the zone leaders in Victoria have a reputation for being the best in the mission. It’s the most successful zone! I don’t know how I’m going to be able to do this. I’m so nervous. I’m in the middle of packing right now. I think what must be done is eliminate any thoughts of failure. Failure is NOT an option. I will go to, kick butt, and baptize. I’ll finish my mission with a bang, not a whimper. Not much else to my P-Day. I’m writing early so I can pack the ole journal away. Hasta la vista, Panuco! After that spiritually charged weekend in late February, I had finally come to terms with being the only member of my MTC generation who had yet to be called to serve as a zone leader. I was happy to be a district leader in Panuco; I had made my peace and found my balance. However, my Heavenly Father had other plans for me; there were souls prepared for me in Ciudad Victoria, waiting for me to declare the glad tidings of the gospel message. So it was, with heavy heart, that I returned to Victoria as a zone leader.

Extracts from a Letter to my Parents “I’m overwhelmed. I hardly consider myself a good enough missionary to be a zone leader, let alone a zone leader in Victoria. I’ll be junior companion to Elder Roundy, an excellent missionary. But he’ll probably be called to be AP in a couple of months, and I’ll have to drive the zone alone. I’m worried about my abilities. There’s a lot of pressure placed upon me.”

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The first in-field reunion of MTC District 60-B Front: Elders Watkins, Felley, and Callister Back: Elders Stauffer, Tonks, Taylor, Barrett, and Fister

Betsi and her sisters Elder Jenson standing in the background

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Elder Jenson Chopping wood at a member’s house

Elder Barrett with the Meza family During my after-mission visit with the family

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