Chapter Eight

Reapers and Sowers

It had been more than two years since I had attended church services with the
Matamoros First Ward. The bishop was still the plump plumber who had presided over
the ward during my days as a missionary in the area. The Cítalan family still sat in the
same pew, only now Josue had returned from his mission. There were some new faces,
and some absent faces, but the love and camaraderie and family spirit of the ward was
the same.
Magda and I sat in a back pew, the same one that used to be occupied by the
elders serving in the ward. Those elders now sat on the stand, and were supplied by the
Monterrey North mission, and not from Tampico. So much had changed, and yet, so
much had stayed the same.
I had to leave immediately after the service, so I soaked in as much love and
warmth as I could. However, after two years, only a handful of members remembered
my name, though there were many who remembered my face. I was content, though,
knowing that I had touched the lives of some few people, and it was those few people
who still remembered my name and greeted me with glad hearts and open arms.
Angela Garcia smiled when she saw me, and her twelve-year old son, the one I
called “primo” sat next to me when he had finished passing the sacrament. Angela had
been like a mother to me, and her son had idolized Elder Burch and I. The Cítalan
Family, with whom I had visited the day before, greeted me warmly once again. I had
always been fond of the Cítalan brothers, and it was a pleasure to see that all four of
them were still serving valiantly in the Matamoros First Ward.
I sighed as the strains of the closing hymn died. I bowed my head in prayer and
felt once more the quiet peace and love of this wonderful ward family. As the prayer
finished, I opened my eyes and looked to Magda. She had agreed to drive me to the bus
station after sacrament meeting, and I would then continue on the next leg of my
pilgrimage. We stood in the foyer for several minutes, greeting old friends, and telling
tales of times past. But too soon, Magda tugged on my sleeve and pointed to her watch.
 WALKING THE DUSTY ROAD

It was time to say my final farewells. I motioned for her to meet me in the parking lot; I
had to make one more quick good-bye.
The Young Single Adults were meeting in the cultural hall that afternoon. Josue
Cítalan was teaching a lesson from the New Testament. I poked my head through the
cultural hall doors, and searched quickly through the many faces arranged in a semi-
circle around Josue’s blackboard. Leticia was sitting next to her fiancé. I caught her
eye, waved to her, and mouthed, “portaté bien.” I then silently closed the door, leaving
Josue’s class uninterrupted.
Lety caught up to me in the parking lot, as I was about to board the passenger
side of Magda’s car. “You’re leaving for I don’t know how long and all you have to say
is ‘behave yourself’?” she asked me incredulously.
I shrugged my shoulders. “What more is there to say?” We both laughed, and
then exchanged e-mail addresses. I had only recently discovered the value of the new
technology and was surprised that it had already dispersed to Mexico. We embraced,
Lety and I, and promised to write. My eyes were wet when I finally sat down in the car
next to Magdalena Olvera.
We drove in silence, much as we had when we returned to her home the previous
Friday night. I watched the homes and streets of Matamoros pass me by, wondering
when I would ever see this place again, wondering how much more it would change
before I found my way back to this unpredictable city on the banks of the Rio Grande.
When we arrived at the bus depot, Magda and I embraced, and then, hitching my
backpack around my shoulder, I walked staunchly into the terminal.
I haven’t seen Magda nor Lety since then, though I still communicate with them
via e-mail. Although Magda’s engagement to my former companion never did work out,
neither did it ever provide an awkward encumbrance to our friendship. Three years later,
she married a faithful returned missionary. Carlos and Leticia were married in the
Mexico City Temple the Friday after I left Matamoros. One year later, Leticia delivered
a healthy newborn girl. Leticia and Carlos had one more child together, a son, before
Carlos passed away of Cancer in 2003.
I left Matamoros that July afternoon, expecting that I would never return to those
sacred shores. Sometimes I smile, and sometimes I cry, and sometime I just sit and think
about the friends and the memories and the good times I left behind in that city on the
banks of the Rio Grande.

Monday, February 17, 1997

Well, I had a pretty fun P-Day for once. It started out pretty normal. I
arose, showered with cold water, studied, and left to the laundromat to wash my
clothes. I accidentally forgot my glasses, which didn’t bother me at the time.
Afterwards, we went shopping at Gigante, and the electricity failed. We were left
trying to shop in the dark, and I was without my glasses, which compounded the
problem. We finally finished our purchases, and went to the front of the store,
where we realized that without electricity, the cashiers were ringing sales by
calculator. The lines were horrendous. We gave it up as a lost cause.
We returned to the front desk, where we had checked our belongings,
recovered our laundry bags, and returned home. Most Mexican supermarkets

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were very picky about what their customers carried into their stores, and
consequently, we always had to check our backpacks (and laundry bags, on those
time when we came directly from the Laundromat) at the front desk. The
attendant would place our belongings in a numbered cubby hole, give us a plastic
token with the corresponding number, and with which we would be able to
recover our personal belongings when our errands were complete.
In the evening, I presented a twenty-minute lesson on humility, after which
Elder Rule complemented me on my public speaking style. I went on another
split with him after the meeting. We ate lunch this afternoon at Lety Moreno’s
house. On Friday night, as we walked home with her, she invited us to eat at her
house the following P-Day, and so we did. She also asked what my favorite food
was, and I told her flour tortillas, and it didn’t matter what she stuffed them with.
Yum! As we sat at her generous table, she told us of her desires to learn English,
and I volunteered to lend her my church almanac, which she read almost as
thoroughly as I did. She had a basic understanding of English, and was able to
pick up the gist of the general authority biographies and expand her English
vocabulary in the process.

Extracts from a Letter to my Parents

I had a pleasant moment yesterday in church. Hermana Espiño gave birth to

a daughter some three weeks ago, and her teenage daughter is always caring for her.
I have taken to calling the little one “mi hija” and I hold her whenever opportunity
permits. One opportunity was yesterday, and the little turtle fell asleep in my arms.
It was a very tender moment. I wonder if babies dream of the heavenly home they
so recently left behind.

Tuesday, February 18, 1997

I woke up half an hour early this morning and really enjoyed myself. I had
more than enough time to shower, shave, and study. As a result, I had a mostly
good day.
While visiting in the home of Hermana Ladezma, Lorena’s boyfriend
dropped by for a visit. Elder Jimenez, ever the diligent missionary, contacted him
and invited him to listen to the discussions. He explained the Book of Mormon to
him, but confused the two starting points. I lost a lot of ánimo when my
companion told an investigator that King Zedekiah lived at the time of the Tower
of Babel. Having learned a thing or two in my time of service with Elder Jimenez,
I let the error pass, and quietly told him of his error when we were alone. I
understood my companion well enough to know that correcting him in front of a
member or investigator would be a severe blow to his pride.
We gave service at the preschool again this morning, finishing the job we
had started the previous week. We invited Elders Burch and Mastache to
accompany us, and the four of us had a good time chopping grass and picking up
garbage. My hands are killing me now, and it hurts to write.

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While talking with an investigator, I smelled something funny. It turned

out to be a freshly used baby diaper that had sat in the sun for several hours.
I need to focus my mind more fully on my mission. I took one large step
closer to Christ today, and three small ones away. I had made one huge advance
in my relationship with my Savior by getting up early and spending more time in
the study of the scriptures. However, that one large advance was offset by the
numerous times that I was angry or frustrated with my companion. I wonder
where I stand now.

Wednesday, February 19, 1997

I started the day with another split with Elder Rule. We taught a powerful
first charla to Concepción—tears and everything. Meanwhile, our companions
were meeting with President Goodman in another leadership training conference.
The Mission President conducted frequent conferences like these in Matamoros
because it was extremely difficult for our zone leader to attend the monthly zone
leader’s council in Tampico.
By far the highlight of the day was my interview with President Goodman.
It rocked. He gave me some tips on how to get along with my companion, and so
forth. He told me of the struggle he had learning to love and respect a former
member of the area presidency, a man who at first had seemed awfully strict and
unyielding. The first time the two of them met, President Goodman received a
dressing down from this general authority. And yet, President Goodman told me,
he learned a lot from that man, and even learned to admire his leadership.
The President really liked my last letter, the one about the commitment
pattern being like the Law of Moses. In our proselyting effort, we worked with a
four-step communication model in which we prepared our investigators to receive
an invitation, we invited them to keep a specific commitment (read the Book of
Mormon, attend Church, or be baptized), and then we would follow up.
Throughout the entire process we would resolve our investigators’ doubts or
concerns. Each of these four major headings had numerous sub headings under
them. For example, as part of the preparation step we would build relationships
of trust or invite the spirit. I noted in my letter that all of these numerous steps
had one goal—to bring others to Christ. I also noted that if we viewed the
commitment pattern as a checklist to be followed and obeyed, we would never
achieve our highest potential as missionaries. However, if we had genuine
concern for those to whom we taught the gospel, then those elements of the
commitment pattern would come naturally and without premeditated thought.
I likened this unto the Law of Moses, which when viewed as a series of
rules and regulations, had not the power of salvation for the Jews. However,
when the broader purposes of the same were understood, as was done by the
Nephites, then the Law of Moses served its purpose and brought souls to Christ. I
expounded on these thoughts to my mission president a few weeks previous.
President Goodman liked the letter and said my thoughts were profound. I really
want to be like President Goodman someday.

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In the evening, after we had spent a lot of time with interviews, we

continued the work; Elder Jimenez and I gave a few more charlas. We received
the February Ensign today, as well as a book in Spanish about Church History.
The book was Nuestro Legado, or Our Legacy as it was known in English. It was
published in commemoration of the 150th anniversary of the first pioneers’
arrival in Salt Lake. I am incredibly tired, but happy. I know that I can get along
with my comp. I just need to put forth a little effort.

Thursday, February 20, 1997

Well, to be positive, we taught a few charlas, one of which was to a pastor

from another church. He didn’t argue as much as I expected.
We spent, as a zone, some four hours together this morning. President
Goodman was teaching us how to be more effective. I think his advice will help
Elder Jimenez and I to get this area to really take off. My determination to get
along with him is stronger than ever. President Goodman’s presentation that
morning focused on teaching us how to improve the quality of our contacts. Elder
Jimenez and I were both eager to try out these new techniques, and we got along
well that day, united as we were by a common desire.
Because Elder Hoover’s district wasn’t informed of the mini-conference,
and because I was the only one who knew where they lived, I got to go on a half-
hour split with President Goodman to go and fetch the district from the southern
realms of Matamoros. On the way there, we had a nice, pleasant talk about
various subjects. I love the guy. I think he was a little frustrated with Elder
Castro for not doing all in his power to get the message to this third district. The
President talked to me about following through with assigned tasks. I think his
admonitions to me that morning had a profound effect on my work, and when I
became a leader, I always tried to discharge my duties without excuses or
equivocations.
Hermana Cítalan broke into tears today because she felt sorry for Elder
Castro. As Relief Society president, she had heard several sisters talking
negatively about Elder Castro’s sour, straight-faced personality. She was
concerned that Elder Castro was not feeling welcomed in the ward and that he
might be lonely. I recognized in her comments a reflection of my own back-biting
behavior. I realized then that I needed to not only support my zone leader whole-
heartedly, but open up to him and forge an honest friendship with him.

Friday, February 21, 1997

I made an extra-special effort to try and love my companion today. I still

fell short. I’ll try again tomorrow. I don’t want to leave Matamoros until I can
honestly say that I love Elder Jimenez. Elder Ramos (now Juan Carlos) called the
house tonight. It was good to hear his voice. I’ll write him a letter this Monday;
he’s become one of my best friends. He told us that he was planning a visit in
March, probably the weekend of the Stake Conference. He did not mention that

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he was coming to see Magda, and I think he still did not know that we were aware
of his romantic interest in our Stake Missionary.
As far as the work went today, it wasn’t half bad. Our last charla was to a
Bible-worshipper. I count it as one of the most prevalent forms of idolatry in the
world today. The Bible is NOT the source of truth; it is but a tool to bring us to
that source, which is God. When we place the Bible above God, using it to limit
His power or ignore His latter-day prophets, then it is really a book we are
worshipping and dead prophets we are following. We should worship the True
and Living God and follow His chosen servants. I became so distraught when
people use the Bible to gag God, and then place the book of scripture on a
pedestal, as if a book has ever had saving power. The record of revelation can
never be more authoritative than the experience of revelation, and yet, many
people place their precious book above the living words of God.

Saturday, February 22, 1997

My love for my companion sort of turned on and off all day. I’m
progressing. I guess I need to try a little harder. I’ve been feeling closer to my
Savior these last couple of days. I hope to cultivate and, for once, hold on to this
spirit that I’ve been feeling. I received a Valentine’s Day card from my parents
today. Oh, how I love them and miss them.
This morning we taught a couple of charlas that were, well, a little
contentious. I backed off, and tried to stay away from contention for the
remainder of the day. We’re teaching several potente investigators—Enrique,
Grizelda, and Concepción. Enrique was a factory worker, of the same age as
Elder Jimenez and I. Grizelda was a young mother who lived two blocks from
Enrique. And Concepción was a heavy-set older woman who lived in the colonia
between the Cítalan and Ladezma families, near the open sewage canal that
flowed through my current area. We had taught second charlas to each of these
three, and were impressed with their sincerity and desires to follow Christ. We
hope to see them tomorrow in Church. I also received a letter from my brother,
Ryan. He always makes me laugh. He sent me comics and crossword puzzles
from the Sunday paper.

Sunday, February 23, 1997

As far as Sundays go, this one was pretty normal. Not a whole lot
happened today that doesn’t happen every other Sunday. I almost came into open
rebellion against Elder Castro this morning when he stated that a correlation
meeting was more important than our investigators. I wanted to go and collect
investigators and bring them to church, but our morning was blocked out by a
scheduled correlation meeting. My experience had led me to expect that nothing
of import would be decided at the meeting, and I desired to use my time for an
activity which might actually have had some bearing on our success as
missionaries. I thought that Elder Castro’s missionary approach placed an

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emphasis on the meetings, rules, and structural aspects of missionary work, and I
did not agree with him. I had a different opinion about where our priorities
should be, and so I argued it a bit, then met him halfway.
Elder Burch and I went out working in the morning, while Elder Jimenez
and Elder Mastache went to the correlation meeting. As always, Burch and I had
a good time, and succeeded in getting two investigators to sacrament meeting.
For me, it was a triumphant vindication. I was able to show my zone leader that
my absence in that morning’s meeting bore fruit and had a positive impact on the
work of the Lord in Matamoros.
As far as loving my companion goes, well, I tried. It was difficult when all
he says to me is “let’s go” and he doesn’t explain why or where. And that’s
exactly what he said to me between Sunday school and priesthood meeting. I had
no idea what his reasons for wanting me leave the cultural hall were, and he
offered no explanation. We’re a team, and he’s supposed to lead, guide, and
direct, not command, condemn, and dictate. Oh well. Tomorrow, in an effort to
make this companionship work, I’m treating us to burgers. I’ll use the money
mom sent me yesterday, money I’d rather use on film development, and attempt
once again to make this companionship serviceable.
This week, month, and year have all passed by so rapidly. I am trying to
take advantage of every minute. I’ve learned a few techniques to help me plan
better, and I hope to put them in practice someday. I’ve tried to draw closer to the
Savior, and I think I am beginning to feel again like I did some years ago. In
thinking of home today, I realized how much I love the mission. I’m often torn
between my love for the work and my longing for home.

Monday, February 24, 1997

I almost went to bed tonight without writing in my journal. I was torn

between my desires to go to bed on time and keeping my goal, so I decided to
write. My zone leader thinks I should go to bed instead, but I think I will write. I
think I’ve said that once before.
Anyways, my P-Day wasn’t half-bad. I treated my comp to hamburgers,
but I didn’t hear a word of thanks. It’s been difficult. I’ve tried to show these
little acts of kindness, but when he ignores them, all my efforts vanish in the air. I
went on another split with Elder Rule this evening, only for an hour, but we talked
about how we can become more Christ-like. I’ve been making an extra effort to
achieve it.
I developed photos tonight. I think my luck is increasing in that
department. Anyways, my concentration broke; I’ll go to bed now. As I was
writing this journal entry, Elder Castro stuck his head through my bedroom door
and ordered me to turn out the lights and go to bed. I explained to him that I was
writing in my journal, something I planned on doing every single day of my
mission. Ten minutes later he returned and once again ordered me to bed. I
figured that I had written enough, put my journal away, and went to sleep.

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Extracts from a Letter to my Parents

“Once a week we eat lunch with Lupita (short for Guadalupe). She lives in
one of the poorer colonias in Matamoros. Hers is an inspiring story. She lives alone,
with her daughter, trying to make ends meet, working graveyard shifts at a factory,
trying to keep up with all of her other activities somehow.
“This week, my comp and I taught twenty charlas. It’s a personal record for
me. Of the twenty, nineteen of them were first charlas. That’s a little depressing
because although we’re working hard, we’re not progressing. And of the nineteen,
we only have nine new families, which is to say that only nine of them accepted
return appointments. Some of them were pretty powerful charlas, too.
“We finally got Book of Mormons up here in Matamoros. We’re so far away
from the mission offices that it’s always been hard to get materials up here. There
have been several times during my stay here that we’ve run out of a book, or a
pamphlet, or what have you.”

Tuesday, February 25, 1997

I finished the day with good feelings towards my companion, which is

quite an accomplishment, if you ask me. It didn’t start out that way. By
lunchtime, I was going to give it up as a lost cause. At lunch time, I saw parts of
the Saved by the Bell movie, which was on the television in the one-room home
where we ate lunch that day. It reminded my of all my high school friends and
the good times we had together.
After lunch, I was in an unusually good mood, which made Elder Jimenez
open up, and by the end of the day, we were laughing and having a good time, like
we did a month ago. The key, I think, is effort, a desire to love him, and prayer.
We ordered Pizza tonight. What a treat! The work is progressing. I’m learning
to be more comfortable with people and how to ask a billion questions. I can’t
wait to get to know another ward and try out my new-found confidence and people
skills.

Wednesday, February 26, 1997

I went on a two-hour split with Elder Mastache this morning. I’ve been
doing a lot of splits lately. We had a good follow-up visit with a few families. In
the evening, we taught a third charla to Angel and Elda, investigators we found
over a month ago, and thought we had lost. Lety accompanied us to that charla,
and we had a good time. She is learning English, and I’m having a fun time
teaching her.
As we left our appointment with Elda and her husband Angel, Lety
stopped, looked around, and claimed that she had a friend who lived in the
vicinity. We spent a half hour looking for this friend, whom she had not seen
since before her mission. We finally found her, a young woman named Erika, and
we set up an appointment to teach her the first charla the following evening.

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It was late when we finished with Erika, and Lety invited us back to her
home for a quick bite to eat. We ate dinner with her, and her cousin Rosy, a once
less-active, now active, that lives in my old area. She invited a friend of hers over
to talk. She plunked him in the middle of Lety’s living room, and looked at us
expectantly, as if we had some magic power that would convert her friend
instantly. It was dang cool. The day was otherwise kind of slow. I don’t think
we worked as efficiently as we could have. For the most part, I got along well
with my comp today.

Thursday, February 27, 1997

I find myself in something of a dilemma. Maybe I am jumping to

conclusions, and maybe Lety’s concern for Elder Castro really is just a show of
sincere friendship. I’m not sure if I should get involved or let events play
themselves out.
During recent talks with Leticia, I sensed a profound undercurrent of stark
loneliness. My heart went out to her, but I knew that she would weather the storm
and pull through it. I knew that Matamoros had a wonderful young single adults
program, and that once Lety got involved with her peers, she would leave her
post-mission loneliness behind her.
However, I began to suspect that she had already found another kindred
soul as lonely as she in Elder Castro. She had talked about him a lot during our
appointments the previous evening, and I knew that she wanted to help him and
console him in some way. I had also been on several recent splits with Elder
Castro, and I had heard the way he had talked about Leticia. I was not certain
about my conclusions, but I was worried that the two of them might be moving in
an inappropriate direction.
I did not know if I had a role in the unfolding drama. Although I had not
acted as Elder Ramos and Magda developed their romantic plans, I had since
concluded that such was not a tragedy because Elder Ramos had finished his
mission honorably and would raise righteous children with Magda. I decided
that it was not my place to stand in the way of something similar occurring
between Elder Castro and Lety, as long as they did nothing inappropriate and he
finished his mission honorably. From that day forth, I kept my ear close to the
ground, paying close attention to any indications that intervention would be
necessary.
And this is not the only potential romantic powder keg. With the fact that
Elder Ramos is going to visit here in March, Yuvia (reportedly) thinking he is
returning for her, and Judit telling Magda that whole situation is shameful, we
have a situation waiting to happen.
Earlier that evening, Leticia accompanied us to a discussion with her
friend Erika. The charla went extremely well, and Erika’s sister, Carmen, even
listened with rapt attention. I was excited about this new direction in our area,
and looking forward to working with my companion in developing these new
teaching opportunities.

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Right now, we have several drunk Mexicans outside our house singing and
playing the guitar. I wonder how much sleep I’ll get tonight. I wanted to take
photos of the drunken quartet, but Elder Jimenez talked me out of it. It was a
good day, and we taught four charlas. One was to a group of Bible-worshippers.
My parents received their first issue of the Ensign.

Friday, February 28, 1997

We gave service to the kindergarten again today, and therefore I am not

only blistered, but sun burned as well. I thought my sun burning days were over.
Yesterday, we taught a first charla to two young women, friends of Lety
Moreno, and tonight we did a follow-up visit, during which I had some very
strong spiritual promptings. As we were reading 2 Nephi 31, I felt strongly that I
should invite the two sisters to be baptized. I dismissed the thought as crazy for
several reasons, primarily because the baptismal invitation is supposed to come
at the end of the second charla. I felt that as a junior companion, I lacked the
authority to change the normal routine by thus inviting them during this informal
visit.
However, as we continued reading, the spirit increased in intensity, and
all of us in that room felt edified and uplifted. The impression from the spirit
came once again, urging me to invite the sisters to baptism. I worried what my
companion would say. He would surely disapprove of my taking the lead in this
meeting and changing the established routine. When once again the impression
filled my mind, I reasoned that I wouldn’t be much of a missionary if I were to
ignore the promptings of the spirit.
Thus, at the end of the visit, I invited them to baptism. I drew a diagram
on a piece of paper, delineating the path to salvation. Baptism was the door
through which all must enter, and pointing to that aspect on my diagram, I invited
them to follow the example of our Lord and Savior by being baptized. Their eyes
lit up and their first reply was “When can we do it?” The spirit was so strong in
the room that night, that even Elder Jimenez could not fault me for extending the
baptismal invitation outside of its normal place in the teaching process. We
walked home that evening jubilant and triumphant. We were closer to being
friends that night that at any other moment in our long companionship.
I love this work with all my heart, and I love what we are doing. Erika and
Carmen were so excited about baptism, and my invitation to them was the
smoothest I’ve ever given. We are but reaping where others have sown. Erika
had taken the charlas before Lety left on her mission, but for one reason or
another, had not followed through with her desire to be baptized. My success this
evening was simply the reaping of seeds sown long ago by other missionaries who
had passed before me. I will never know the number of people I baptized who had
had previous contact with the missionaries. And conversely, I will never know
how many of those I contacted were baptized at a later date.
“And he that reapeth receiveth wages, and gathereth fruit unto life
eternal, that both he that soweth and he that reapeth may rejoice together. And

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herein is the saying true, one soweth and another reapeth. I sent you to reap that
whereon ye bestowed no labor, other men labored, and ye entered into their
labors” (John 4:36-38).
We are also teaching a young married couple, Benito and Veronica. These
two both worked in the factories along the borders, the maquiladores. These
were plants that imported parts from the United States, assembled the parts on the
border using cheap Mexican labor, and then repatriated the finished products
into the United States. The maquiladores are an important sector of the Mexican
economy, and a large portion of borderlanders work in these factories, which are
often sweat shops and labor camps. Benito and Veronica were very much devoted
to each other, and they had a daughter, Carla, to whom they were also very
devoted. Benito worked mornings at the maquilador, and Veronica worked
evenings at the same factory. The two only saw each other in passing each day,
but they suffered these inconveniences so that one of them could always be home
with their daughter. They have a baptismal date, and everything is progressing
well on that front.

Saturday, March 1, 1997

Our whole morning was spent, more or less, with Benito and Veronica.
Part of it we were waiting for him to arrive, the other part we showed Together
Forever. Benito had gone to visit his brother, and when he finally returned, we
were able to continue with the family home evening we had scheduled with them.
Weekends were the only times when both of Benito and Veronica were home
together; during the week they worked opposite shifts at the same factory. We
acquired a VCR from Jazmín, the bishop’s daughter, and lugged it over to Benito
and Veronica’s little house. Jazmín, the newly called adult Sunday school
teacher, accompanied us and began fellowshipping the family. When all was said
and done, after all the waiting, borrowing, watching, and returning, we spent the
whole morning with this one family. It may have been worth it though, since I
think it touched them.
We spent some time in first charlas, one of them to Victor, a former
investigator that Elders Burch and Manzo had taught during their days in our
area. The thing with Victor is that he sought out the missionaries and contacted
them. This was uncommon enough that we made a note to ourselves to stick to
Victor closely, but we soon discovered why Burch and Manzo were unable to
teach him. Victor was active in school and played on a league soccer team. He
led a very busy and active life, and so he was never home when the missionaries
came calling.
I had a few good moments with my comp, but then again today, I found
myself losing patience with him. I wish I could identify why I do that. Transfers
are coming up and I hope I have enough time to learn to work effectively with my
companion. Whether I’ll be here, or somewhere else, I know not, but where He
needs me, there go I.

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Sunday, March 2, 1997

It was a pretty eventful Sunday for a change. We had an investigator in

sacrament meeting. Erika, our verification from Friday night, came to church
with Lety. Erika is really excited about her baptism, and we are thinking of
moving her baptismal date up a week. We will all have to work our butts off to
achieve it, but it just might be one of the greatest stories from my mission.
We taught her the second charla tonight with a group of six young single
adults in the home of Lety Moreno. It was a very effective charla. Among the
group of six were two returned missionaries, and they helped to direct and control
the charla, knowing how frustrating it can be when large group discussions get
off topic and out of hand. Nevertheless, there was still a lot of talking, laughing,
and interacting among the nine of us. We all had a good time.
After the charla, when everyone had left except for my companion and I,
we had a frank discussion with Lety. She broke down into tears and confessed
her growing romantic interest in Elder Castro. Her interest was one born of
sympathy; she understood the depths of loneliness that our zone leader was
feeling, because she was suffering through a similar isolation in her own life.
Despite the fact that just this very night, she had been surrounded by six other
young single adults who shared her values, she still felt that they did not
understand her. It is tough being the only active member in one’s family, and still
being fresh from her mission, her frustration was all the greater.
I think we headed off any problems that were developing between her and
Elder Castro. Somehow, we had a good talk and avoided any bad feelings. We’re
still friends, and the situation is now under control. Lety recognized the
inappropriate nature of her feelings towards Elder Castro and promised us that it
would go no further, that she would, in fact, back away from the precipice.
Tonight we also showed the video Lamb of God to Benito and Veronica. I
think they were deeply touched. In my personal studies, I’m in Daniel, Helaman,
and Doctrine and Covenants sixty-something. I’m also reading Jesus the Christ.
I’m really tired, so forgive me if I babble. I want nothing more than to drift off
into blissful sleep. My bed is calling my name.

Monday, March 3, 1997

P-Day. What more needs to be said? We did go out to eat again today,
courtesy of Lenora, a once less-active, now active member. She was the niece of
Hermana Ladezma, and worked full time as a clerk at a store in downtown
Matamoros. Elder Jimenez and I, during our frequent visits with Familia
Ladezma, had had ample opportunity to work with Lenora, and we had seen our
efforts bear fruit.
I went on a one hour split with Elder Castro, and I continued to reach out
to him in honest friendship. Before tonight, I don’t think I had ever sat with him
in a companionship interview. I think his style needs a little work. The interview
was very stiff and formal, and he focused much of his attentions on deficiencies in

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the numbers we reported. I felt like he did not praise us sufficiently for the things
that Elder Jimenez and I had done well that week.
During our evening split, Elder Castro opened up to me about some
personal issues he was having with some members of the ward. He spoke in very
vague terms, but I understood more than he realized.
I received a letter from the Andersons, and Magda says she brought me
back a package from Brownsville. She just got back from visiting Juan Carlos
Ramos in the state of Mexico. My companion is starting to bug me again, and we
were just starting to get along again.

Extracts from a Letter to my Parents

“At the beginning of this week, we didn’t have a single person with a
baptismal goal. It was pretty frustrating. However, now we have five people looking
forward to baptism on March 16th.”

Tuesday, March 4, 1997

I haven’t had a day like today in quite some time. Absolutely no one was
home. Our plans to change Erika’s baptismal date fell through because we didn’t
find her at home. My companion spent over three hours with an investigator, and
Elder Burch didn’t pick up the mail from Magda. I’m ready to crawl into bed and
try again tomorrow.
The day started out rocky with my companion and continued that way for
the remainder. I like a good debate, and often I argue as a joke. Sometimes I
argue just to stay in practice, and sometimes I argue for points that I don’t really
believe in. Sometimes I argue in order to learn if a person’s beliefs are well-
reasoned and rational. Some of my companions did not understand that aspect of
my personality, and in time I learned to scale back my argumentative personality.
However, that was a lesson I was still learning in Matamoros. The problem is
that Elder Jimenez takes me too seriously. He sees any disagreement, even one as
a joke, as a threat to his position. He doesn’t like to admit that he’s wrong.
Elder Jimenez wanted to be a good missionary, and to him that meant
being unbending, firm, and strong. He believed that a good missionary, one who
listened to the Spirit, was one who was never wrong. There was a time when I
believed something similar, but I had since learned that we are all human, and we
all make mistakes. I wish I could have found a way to help my companion learn
this lesson; instead I was a rather unsupportive and argumentative companion.

Wednesday, March 5, 1997

We spent the morning in conference with President Goodman and Doctor

Hardy. The latter was a retired doctor, serving the Lord in his twilight years by
taking care of the health of all the LDS missionaries in Mexico and Central
America. When he first began his mission, he toured all the missions under his
care and gave a special health conference. Afterwards, we had the option of

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talking one-on-one with the good doctor. I figured, hey, free medical advice! I
asked about my migraines, and he gave me some drugs free of cost. What a deal.
I knew there was a reason I came on my mission.
We finished the day with a first and a second charla. We taught Carmen,
the sister of Erika, the second. She accepted baptism with her sister. I knew there
was a reason I came on my mission.
I received a letter from Wes. I can’t believe we’re still such good friends.
It’s been so long since we’ve seen each other. He had left on his mission to India
in December of 1995, after only a single semester together as roommates. During
those brief four months, we had grown close and wrote to each other throughout
our missions. Unfortunately, we both lost track of each other after our respective
returns.

Thursday, March 6, 1997

As I sat down on the micro this morning, I said to myself, “I’m going to
contact the next person who sits next to me.” Micros were, for some reason, a
hard environment for me to contact in. When I rode a micro, it was often one of
the few times in any given day when I was allowed to sit down, and I wanted to
relax and enjoy the ride, observe the city, and take note of the fascinating cultural
landscape that surrounded me. Deep down inside, I knew that I should be talking
to those people who sat next to me on the micros, but I seldom did, I was still so
afraid of people, and sitting quietly watching the cityscape was so much easier.
On this morning, I made the determination to fix this failing in my work, and I
contacted a person on the micro. I’m beginning to overcome my people fear.
My excitement gave way when we had a follow-up visit with a crazy
doctor name Pedro Suarez. He lived in a small, well-kept house out of which he
practiced medicine. The front room had been converted into a waiting room, and
it was there that we talked to him. I don’t know what kind of rules exist in Mexico
for practicing medicine, but Dr. Suarez had a large clientele, consisting mostly of
his neighbors, probably people too poor to visit a real doctor. We had taught
Pedro a few days previously, given him a Book of Mormon, and promised to
return. On this return visit, he related to us how his dead daughter spoke to him
in his head, giving him advice and guiding him through life. I did not like Dr.
Suarez, and though I often had a bad feeling when we were in his home, Elder
Jimenez enjoyed this eccentric character and continued to make headway in
teaching him the gospel of Jesus Christ.
We taught the third charla to both Veronica and Erika, both of which went
very well. Erika accepts the Church as the true church, and has even defended it
from her coworkers. We couldn’t find our lunch appointment today, so we bought
donuts instead. In the afternoon, we taught four first charlas, half of which were
good, the other half bad. We keep running into Bible-worshippers, some of which
are kind of oblivious. One lady insisted that there is a Bible citation that says we
need to accept Jesus into our heart. Unfortunately, modern Evangelical language
is just not found in that sacred book of scripture.

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Friday, March 7, 1997

It was one of those days when nothing much was accomplished. We

taught a first charla in the morning, during which, a migraine hit me. After lunch,
therefore, we went home. The drugs that Doctor Hardy had given me earlier in
the week were supposed to be taken right before the migraine began. Most
sufferers of these types of headaches know when they are about to start—there are
certain flashes in the side of the eye, queasiness in the stomach, and so forth.
However, I did not have my drugs with me at the time, and so when lunchtime
came, the migraine was raging fiercely across my temples. I feel bad because it
was a wasted day, and it is my fault. On Wednesday, also, we turned in half an
hour early because I was feeling unwell.
I received a letter from Rob the other night. What a stud! He’s up there in
Toronto on a mission, and he’s driving a car. Here I am with blistered feet and
grass roof houses, and he’s got an automobile. Well, that was my day. One
stinking charla, and a whole lot of wasted time due to my freaking headaches.
There must be a purpose in this trial.

Saturday, March 8, 1997

Well, I don’t have a lot of positive things to say about today. I’m just so
tired, and I want a week off. I want to give up the fight, throw in the towel, let the
ball bounce, crumble the cookie, and buy the farm. We talked to our crazy doctor
again this morning, and Elder Jimenez and I were having a good time together,
despite the bad feeling I felt with Dr. Suarez.
Then everything packed up into the proverbial hand basket. My comp
went into his thirteen year old kid mode, Benito and Veronica are really
disanimated, and our light-bulb died last night. I guess it wasn’t all bad. We
taught Erika the fourth charla. She invited a friend to listen. Erika wants to serve
a mission, and all is well. I think I’ll go to bed and start over tomorrow. And such
was the solution to many of the problems imposed on the life of a missionary. Life
always looks more beautiful and less tragic by the light of a brand new dawn.

Sunday, March 9, 1997

Sunday came and went without a warning. All at once I looked and it was
gone. As I have some four months in Matamoros, everyone said good-bye to me.
Of course, if I don’t receive a cambio tomorrow, we’re all going to feel a little
sheepish. Lety gave me a cute little scroll with a sagacious saying, and Gaby gave
me a cute little note. Magda told me that I’ll always have a friend in Matamoros.
I don’t really know if I want to leave or not. On the one hand, it would be
anti-climatic if I were to stay, and I’ve spent so much of my mission in isolation. I
want to see new people and places. On the other hand, staying with Elder Jimenez

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will give me another opportunity to learn to work effectively with him, plus I
would get to stay another six weeks with this ward which I love so much.
Cítalan (the family which provided the ward with so much leadership),
Sobrevilla (a less-active family we had worked so hard with), Gonzalez (the
family that practically raised my first baptism, Oscar), Magda (the stake
missionary who kept us connected with the United States), Lety (the returned
missionary who was always so willing to accompany us on charlas), Jazmín (the
daughter of the bishop and currently serving as Sunday school teacher), Baez (the
first counselor in the bishopric, and his brother Lupe, the ward mission leader),
Lastra (another less-active family, the neighbors of Familia Sobrevilla), García
(the family with whom we spent so much time, that I began to refer to Angela as
my Mexican mother, and who also mended some of my pants when they had split),
Ladezma (our base of operations in my new area), Flores (one of the first families
in Matamoros, containing three generations of faith), Torres, (the lame shoe
repair man who was filled with so much faith), and Silva (the less active family
who wanted so much to be active again).
Matamoros has been home. I have loved it. Its crisscrossed streets, its
open sewers, its warm and loving people. I hope I have learned that which I need
to learn here. It’s touched my life in profound ways. I’ll never forget my beloved
Matamoros. Of course, if I don’t get transferred tomorrow, all this will be anti-
climatic. I have loved, and I will yet love again. We were supposed to give talks
today, but didn’t have to. Erika had her pre-interview, and everyone is excited
about her pending baptism. I’d like to be here for it.

Monday, March 10, 1997

I’ve decided to write now. It’s 10:00 p.m. and the cambios haven’t come
in yet. I found myself with an excess of free time this morning and afternoon.
Normally, my P-Days are jam packed. Today was fairly relaxing. It rained, and I
was thankful for the cold air it brought. We visited Lety tonight to say good-bye,
and I challenged her to write in her journal. All said and done, it was a very lazy,
relaxing P-Day.
The phone just rang, but it wasn’t the transfers. Everyone is on nails,
waiting for the call. I think I’ll head to bed, and if a transfer finds me, I’ll get up
and get moving. Elder Trejo goes home this week, as well as Elder McCall (my
first zone leader), Elder Sandoval (my first AP), Elder Allen (my second zone
leader), and Elder Rico (a former housemate in Matamoros). Time is a funny
thing.

Extracts from a Letter to my Parents

“Transfers are coming tonight, and if I get changed, I’ll have Magda call you.
Elder Burch, who has five months in Matamoros, will most likely receive a transfer,
and it’ll be strange if he leaves and I stay. We’ve lived together, he and I, for four
months. We’re bestest friends, and I can’t imagine Matamoros without Elder Burch.

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“Everyone was saying good-bye to me and Elder Burch yesterday in Church.

I tried telling them that it is not a sure thing, and that we’ll all feel a little sheepish
next week if I don’t get transferred. Lety Moreno, in fact, is cooking me a good-bye
dinner tonight. I think she and Magda have been my best friends here.
“This week, more or less, was good. We had fifteen charlas, which is a good
week. We only had thirty contacts, which is a bad week. The weather was hot then
turned cold, then hot again. I have developed a sure-fire way of predicting the
weather. If I leave the house with suit jacket or overcoat, then it’ll be hot. If I leave
in nothing but shirt-sleeves, then it’ll be cold.
“I used the $10 (eighty pesos) that mom sent to buy a big, fluffy pillow,
among other stuff. My old pillow was flat, and, well, it stunk. I have a wonderful
new one, and I’ve slept very well these past few nights.”

Tuesday, March 11, 1997

Last night, Elder Burch packed up and headed south. I’m going to miss
that screwball. Elder Burch landed in Barrio Hidalgo, in the Madero stake,
working with an Elder Whetten, who would later go on to become assistant to the
president. When Elder Whetten entered the offices, Burch had the opportunity to
work with ex-AP Elder Mejorada. All in all, Elder Burch had some top-notch
training and went on to do some fabulous things in his mission. I met up with him
again some time later when we worked in neighboring areas in Madero, though
we belonged to separate zones. He eventually returned to Matamoros as a zone
leader, working once again in Barrio I. He finished his mission as a zone leader
in Ciudad Victoria. His replacement is good ole Elder Taylor, from my old MTC
district.
We woke up this morning with a thunderstorm outside. The downpour
strengthened, and by 8:30 am, the streets were flooded. It stopped raining, the
streets were drained, but we were still left with huge flood puddles and mud like
you wouldn’t believe. Not all the streets drained completely, and in our area, we
found whole blocks that were still flooded. Trying to find a way around each
flood puddle was like navigating a maze. It was tantamount to learning our area
all over again, since many of the old routes we had walked were now flooded out.
We had a good time locating less-actives and inviting them to the
conference that’s coming up this weekend. Elder Jimenez and I had a good day
together. I hope it lasts. We taught a couple of first charlas today, and made a lot
of follow-up visits. The day wasn’t wasted.

Wednesday, March 12, 1997

The mud was a little better, but it still sucked. We taught Erika the fifth
charla, and began making the final preparations for her baptism. We’re both
really excited about it. Also on the list today is a couple of first charlas.
I’ve really had a good time trying to navigate these streets the last couple
of days. Inside, sometimes, the mud is no better than it was outside. We ate
lunch in a dirt-floored house today. When I sat down to eat, the two front legs of

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my chair sank into the softened earth. The hermana offered me a different chair,
but I declined, saying, “I’m closer to the food this way.”
Benito wasn’t home; I’m afraid we’ve lost him. Benito and his wife had
begun to read the Book of Mormon from the beginning, and had been troubled by
the references to the “great and abominable church.” Benito was not active in
the Catholic church, but he had a brother who was very religious and attended
mass regularly. Benito began to worry that our church would turn him against
his brother, and so he began avoiding us regularly. We visited Patricia tonight,
sang a hymn, and read a scripture. We just wanted to check in on her, let her
know that we still cared.

Thursday, March 13, 1997

I give up. I tried, I absolutely gave it my best effort, but I just can’t
understand my companion sometimes. Tonight I did exactly what President
Goodman advised. I gave my opinion gently and without criticism. He got mad,
and I asked if I was allowed to form opinions. He said yes, and I asked why he
was mad then. He told me my opinions were foolish and absurd. I was very
angry, but nevertheless, I bought him some cookies to smooth things over. Not a
single word of thanks!
I don’t know how we were even able to work together on days like these.
The tension was so thick between the two of us, and I would speak barely two
words to him. In the evenings, we ignored each other, and I missed Elder Burch
greatly. In the past I had been able to go to him and together we would laugh off
the troubles of our respective days. In a house devoid of his presence, it was
much harder for me to shake off the negative feelings engendered during the day.
I have forgiven, and I have forgiven again. But I’ll continue to do so, wash my
hands, and leave the rest to God.
Otherwise, a fairly good day. I got letters from Zach and Ady.

Friday, March 14, 1997

We taught the final charla to Erika this morning. She’s already sharing the
gospel with her friends. She is so awesome. We also taught a charla to a group of
eight drunks in a smoke-filled room. On the way home, we stopped by Lety’s
house and asked her to prepare something special for Erika’s baptism. Lety had
some small musical talent, and we figured that a small presentation from the
friend who had introduced the gospel to Erika would not be inappropriate.
I received a audiocassette with a copy of my farewell, which I am listening
to this very minute. The farewell was recorded with permission from my home
ward bishop and contained talks from my little brother and my father, as well as
my two best friends, Zach Bird and Shawn McDowell. It was a rather over-the-
top, Nathan-is-great affair, and even at the time I was a little embarrassed by it.
If I could go back and do a more modest farewell service, then I would.

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Juan Carlos Ramos visited this morning. He’s in town for the Stake
Conference this weekend. It was good to see him again, even though we all knew
that he was really in town to visit Magda

Saturday, March 15, 1997

Due to misdirections from our fearless leader, Elder Jimenez and I arrived
at the wrong chapel this morning for the mini-conference with Elder Peterson of
the Seventy. Previously in the week, Elder Castro had told Elders Mastache,
Taylor, Jimenez, and myself that the conference would be held at the chapel in
downtown Matamoros, where all of our other conferences had been held.
However, President Goodman changed the location of the conference, and Elder
Castro was very diligent in passing the word along to every other district in the
zone but ours.
The four of us arrived at the downtown chapel, we waited for half an hour,
and then decided that someone had messed up. The four of us made the decision
to abandon our post and reconnoiter the stake center. We eventually made it to
the correct chapel, fifteen minutes before the end of Elder Peterson’s talk. I felt
like crying. I had been looking forward to this for so long, and I missed it.
However, all was made better a few hours later. The zone and district
leaders were cloistered with the president, receiving additional training and
instruction, when Elder Peterson arrived at the stake center to hold another
leadership meeting with the stake and mission presidents. Since President
Goodman was not quite ready, Elder Peterson and I had the opportunity to chat
one-on-one for a few minutes. I even had my photo taken with him. What a cool
experience.
In the last few months, my perceptions of our leaders have changed. They
are just ordinary men trying their best to serve in extraordinary callings. My
respect for them is immeasurable. I have faith in our prophets, seers, and
revelators. I will follow them, and in so doing, follow the Lord.
Later in the evening, we attended the evening session of the Matamoros
stake conference. Afterwards, Elder Jimenez approached Elder Peterson and
asked to take his photo with him. Elder Peterson declined, saying that the
brethren had instructed him not to do so, in order to avoid converting humble
servants of God into celebrities. Apparently, Elder Peterson made an exception
for me that morning, which made me feel special and made up for missing his
presentation.

Sunday, March 16, 1997

It was a very eventful day. We started with a stake conference. I had the
blessed opportunity to sustain my leaders and prophets. The talks were all great,
especially Elder Peterson’s. He employed music and audience participation.
He started by asking President Goodman to play the left-hand portion of
the hymn “Love One Another.” As this gentle music enveloped the congregation,

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Elder Peterson began speaking of the great work that the Matamoros Stake had to
accomplish. He asked the stake president to stand up, and identified him as the
man responsible for fulfilling the great mission of the Matamoros Stake. He then
asked his counselors in the presidency and the high council to stand up and
identified them as the men on whom the stake president could depend. As Elder
Peterson asked each level of church service to stand with the stake president, the
music continued in the background. In the end, most of the Matamoros Stake was
standing, and Elder Peterson delivered them their charge. I think everyone felt
the spirit and were electrified as he ended the talk and the conference with the
challenge, “What are you going to do?” and the invitation, echoing Spencer W.
Kimball, “Do it.”
The day advanced to our baptism with Erika Rosario Garcia Loperema. I
had to say the prayer three times, but eventually I got through it, and submerged
her very smoothly. Afterwards, Lety Moreno sang “I Stand All Amazed.” It was
a cappella and solo and very beautiful. Many of the young single adults who had
befriended Erika were in attendance, and I had asked many of them to participate
through prayers, testimonies, and talks. Elder Jimenez conducted the meeting,
and I had created the program. We had two great talks, one from Lupe Baez, an
RM and ward mission leader, and the other from Isidrio Something-or-other, a
recently returned missionary.
The day ended with a dinner at Lety’s house. We ended up talking and
sharing experiences. It turned very tender as Lety expressed how very alone she
feels. Just returning from her mission, she’s on a spiritual high, and all her friends
have followed other paths. Her family is not active in the church, and she just
feels so alone. She says that even her relationship with Erika isn’t as close as it
once was. I know how she feels. I came home from BYU to friends I hardly
knew. I hope Lety will weather the storm. She can, and will, be a force in the
Kingdom of God.

Monday, March 17, 1997

In the morning, we discovered it was St. Patrick’s Day when I asked,

“Why does March 17th seem like it should be important?” We found us an
American calendar, and lo and behold, it’s St. Patty’s day. We went out to pizza
today with Claudia Belez, the Relief Society secretary.
In the evening, I went out working with Elder Rule, and visited a few
families in my old area. And what a surprise, too, when I discovered the Felipe
Silva family with a new baby—Moroni Israel. When I left the area, I didn’t even
know she was pregnant. I did the math, and figured that I hadn’t seen Hermana
Silva in just over two months. I figured that at most, she could have been five
months pregnant when I left the area. They had told no one of the impending
birth, and it was as much a surprise to me as it was to everyone else. He was
born prematurely, and I hope and pray everything continues normally.

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As always, Elder Rule and I had some good talks. I hope I didn’t talk too
much. I finished the day with a bottle of Pepto. I also finished reading the Old
Testament today.

Extracts from a Letter to my Parents

“Life is going well. My companion and I had a few difficulties this week, but
in the end, I think we are doing okay. We had a baptism, and I think it brought us
closer together. Afterwards, we ate dinner with Lety. She knows my opinion
concerning Erika—that she was so golden that anyone could have baptized her.
Lety disagreed with that, saying she thinks we really touched her heart. The previous
elders didn’t do it, but somehow we did. I still believe we are building on the work
of those who went before us, reaping what we have not sown. But still, it’s nice to
be appreciated.”

Tuesday, March 18, 1997

After a rainy weekend, we again had some horrendously muddy streets.

We visited Erika in the morning. She is still so excited and enthusiastic. She still
wants to serve a mission, which, I think would be a crowning moment, should it
occur. Later that week, I spoke very animatedly to Elder Jimenez about my hopes
for Erika and her desires to serve a mission. In my youthful exuberance, I told
him that such would be the crowning moment of my mission. Elder Jimenez,
immature and annoying as I often found him, responded with uncharacteristic
wisdom. He told me that there would be many such crowning moments, and that
just because I achieve one is no reason to stop working for another. I did not
appreciate the wisdom in that remark at the time; I felt that he was just shooting
down my ideas once again. It wasn’t until later, as I thought back upon my days
in Matamoros, that I realized that there were times and seasons when Elder
Jimenez expressed some very profound thoughts. I wish I could have appreciated
him at the time.
The afternoon was spent in a division with Elder Castro. That was a little
difficult on me. At the end of the day, we dropped letters off at Magda’s and
came home. I wonder what kind of legacy I’m leaving behind. I wonder if, and
hope that, Elder Barrett will be remembered for something good and with
fondness. I want to leave my name as something to be respected and loved.
Perhaps it’s all vanity, but I would like to be remembered for having done
something good here in Matamoros.

Wednesday, March 19, 1997

The tone of the day was set this morning as I woke up thinking, if I’m
going to be a junior comp for the rest of my mission, and I truly believe I will,
then I have to find a way to make a difference in that capacity. I decided to start
by really supporting and helping my senior companion. We had a pretty good
day.

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We visited our crazy doctor, which made me lose the spirit. I accidentally
flipped through a book about forensic science. It contained many large, full color
photos of slashed skin, punctured organs, and gunshot entry wounds. It made me
sick. I quickly put the book back on the coffee table and studiously avoided it for
the rest of the visit.
In the evening, I accidentally used the word “mango” in an inappropriate
manner with an investigator. We were teaching a young woman whose name
escapes me, though her three year old brother was named Cristo. That evening,
after a charla with Cristo’s sister, she offered us fresh fruit to eat. I grabbed a
mango, peeled it, and ate it. This was the first time I had eaten this tropical fruit,
and told our investigator so, stating that I would always remember her as my first
mango. She blushed furiously, and I looked to Elder Jimenez in confusion.
Apparently, the word “mango” is used in Mexican slang to describe a young,
shapely woman. All said and done, we laughed about it.
I ate some strawberry-flavored popcorn; it was very strange. We taught
three first charlas, and once again, we are low on seconds. I’m getting along well
with Elder Jimenez.

Thursday, March 20, 1997

I give up again! This time he took offense at a joke I made about the way
he flirts with some members and investigators. I then told him to just be careful,
and that it was my responsibility as his junior comp to say something when I
thought his actions were not correct. He told me that I have no responsibilities as
junior companion.
It’s been hot, and the mosquitoes have come back to Mexico. I’m bug-
bitten and a little red. The day went well, more or less, if a little inefficient at
times. We did finally teach the third charla to Carmen, Erika’s sister. For some
reason, in all the hubbub of preparing for Erika’s baptism, Carmen had been
forgotten. We had invited her to baptism on the same day we had invited her
sister, and yet, by the time Erika entered the waters of baptism, Carmen had
scarcely progressed any further. She isn’t as strong as her sister was, but she has
potential and desire.
I ate soup today. I don’t like having soup for my main meal. I won’t
complain; it’s better than what they’re eating in Soto la Marina.

Friday, March 21, 1997

Up until a couple of hours ago, today was pretty much a waste of time.
We wandered aimlessly for a good part of the day, searching for new people to
teach. Later, as a newly called senior companion, I often made the same mistake
that Elder Jimenez did. It wasn’t that he hadn’t planned, but rather, we hadn’t
continued adding to our teaching pool while we had been working with Erika.
Once we had baptized her, we were suddenly left with nothing to do except

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wander the streets of Matamoros and search for new families to whom we could
teach the gospel of Jesus Christ.
We did end up with three first charlas, an hour with less actives, and seven
contacts. But that totals up to six hours of work in a twelve-hour work day. We
weren’t very effective. Spring break had started in the United States, and that day
we saw several American groups wandering the streets of Matamoros. Most
students went further south to the beach resorts, so the Americans we saw in our
area were usually affiliated with church groups who had come south to build
homes for the urban poor in Matamoros.
In the evening, we visited Hermana Paloma. Her family was cooking
chicken on the grill and invited us to eat. It was a very pleasant moment—full
moon, stars, fried chicken, laughter, Mexican family, and the gospel of Jesus
Christ. Later, we had a good, fun talk with Lety and Erika, whom we encountered
outside a fast-food chicken restaurant on Avenida Lauro Villar. We were on our
way home, as were they, but we stopped and chatted for a moment. Erika
continues to please and impress us with her progress. She’s going to the YSA
conference in Victoria this coming week. Lety will be going to the temple to do
some work for her grandparents. This will be her first endowment session since
her own. God is awesome. Church is true. I like chicken.
Especially when it’s in a mole sauce, like we had for lunch this afternoon.

Saturday, March 22, 1997

Well, as far as days go, today was close to a waste. We wandered again
for much of the morning. We made a few contacts and taught a few charlas. We
really need to be more organized, and plan at three different levels—weekly,
daily, and hourly. This was part of the organization scheme that I had been
developing with Elder Rule over the last two months. Every week, in our dialogo
de acuerdo, we need to sit down as companionships and discuss the goals we
have for each of our investigators, and then make goals for what we hope to
accomplish with each one of them by the end of the week. We should then
proceed to the level of daily goals, and determine what needs to happen each day
for us to achieve our weekly goal with each investigator. Finally, every evening,
as we plan the following days activities, we should have a good idea what we
hope to accomplish in each visit, each charla, each hour. If we don’t, we’ll never
achieve our goals.
For example, we have a goal to baptize Carmen in a week, but we’re still
lacking the fourth charla, pre-interview, fifth charla, sixth charla, and baptismal
interview. Despite all that we had yet to accomplish with Carmen, Elder Jimenez
and I never sat down and planned out when each of those things was going to
occur. We visited Erika in the afternoon, but because we really had no idea why
we were visiting, it was kind of a dumb visit. We all sat around the kitchen table,
staring dumbly at each other and making inane comments about the weather and
other such mundane subjects. We need to know where we are going with each
investigator and how we are going to get there.

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Sunday, March 23, 1997

As Elder Jimenez and I walked to church that morning, we found our way
blocked by a Palm Sunday parade. I had never spent the Easter holiday in a
predominantly Catholic nation, and I was fascinated by the period costumes and
the plethora of palm leaves strewn in the streets. The procession even had a
“Jesus” figure riding upon a donkey.
We visited Hermana Nájera in the morning, as well as Benito and
Veronica. Because we hadn’t planned anything, we ended up sitting around the
table in an awkward silence. That’s what I mean by a lack of hourly planning.
Each visit should have a purpose related to our weekly goal.
Erika was in sacrament meeting, as was her sister, Carmen. She’s really
thrown herself into this new lifestyle. She paid tithing today, and also received
several lesson manuals—Principles of the Gospel and Our Legacy.
We had a correlation meeting this afternoon, and it was very boring. I
started flirting with Lety, who was sitting across the room; she started it, really, by
making faces at me. I replied in kind, and it progressed to flashing scripture
references across the room. It was a lot of fun. Elder Castro, who was conducting
the meeting, caught us a couple of times, I think, and wasn’t very pleased.
The day ended with a fourth charla to Carmen in the house of the Young
Women’s President, Angelica Perez. There have been some problems between
Carmen and a few of the young women, Angelica’s daughter among them. I think
we are going to have to talk to the parents; this could easily kill off both Carmen’s
and Erika’s desire. My personal study is progressing. I am happy.

Monday, March 24, 1997

I only have time tonight to scribble a very quick note. I received a

transfer, and I’ve got to get packed within the hour. Thus were the nature of
cambios in Matamoros. The call came on Monday night, at the conclusion of
preparation day. Elders in other parts of the mission would be able to sleep, pack
in the morning, enjoy a leisurely bus ride to Tampico, and be at the offices by
9:00 a.m. However, Matamoros was so far away that elders who received a
cambio had to leave that very night, hop on a midnight bus, and sleep their way to
Tampico. The transfer call came at 10:00 that evening and was a surprise for
everyone. I wasn’t ready to go at all. I quickly packed my bags, called the bishop
of Barrio Modelo to secure a ride to the bus station, and I was on my way within
an hour and a half.
Today was cool. Some weeks ago, Elder Castro had found a large map of
the city and had posted it on his bedroom wall. Once I had located our house on
the map, I was surprised to see how close our neighborhood was to United States
soil. I had been wanting to go and take a look at my mother country for many
weeks, but had never been able to get Elder Jimenez to agree to come with me.

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Finally, Elder Rule agreed to accompany me to look at the Rio Grande, or the Rio
Bravo del Norte, as it is called by the Mexican people.
Elder Rule and I went to look at the river and at the United States. We
found a hole in the back wall of our gated community, and we passed through it.
We walked along the borders of a rich neighborhood, and shortcutted through a
pleasant graveyard, and in all, had a good time. The river was much smaller than
either of us had anticipated, but it was still a stirring moment, to be so close to the
United States.
On the walk home, we passed once again through the cemetery, and
paused to examine the grave markers. Elder Rule commented to me on the unique
character of Mexican cemeteries—so overgrown, so wild, so unorganized. He
theorized that Mexicans would be offended by the impersonal and sterile nature of
our places of burial.
When we finally returned from our excursion, I discovered that a few of
my housemates had preformed a random act of kindness on my behalf. Elder
Taylor and Elder Mastache shined my shoes for me. How nice! One of my
weakest points as a missionary was my loathing for shoe shining, and hence, my
footwear was often sub-par. Elder Mastache, the diplomat, and Elder Taylor, the
earnest and sincere servant of Christ, had taken it upon themselves to shine my
Doc Martins. I smiled and thanked them profusely. The shoes looked almost as
good as new, despite the cracks that were appearing around the base of the toe, a
result of too much water and rain.
I taught the lesson tonight in district meeting. This entry will have to
suffice. I don’t have much time. I’ll write more tomorrow.

Extracts from a Letter to my Parents

“I’m not in the tourist part of Matamoros, but nevertheless, I saw a couple of
gringuitas this week. Spring break came around and so there are a number of
Protestant do-gooders buying the hearts of this people with candy, food, and clothes.
What they are doing is important, but it lessens the dignity of these people. They,
especially the kids, begin to look for hand-outs. Some of them only know a few
words in English, and that only being sufficient to ask for money.
“I guess what I’m doing as a missionary is teaching people how to take care
of themselves, primarily in a spiritual manner. Our message is that they can know
the truth for themselves. We tell people, “you can have a relationship with a loving
Father in Heaven. He wants to help you.” Nevertheless, people don’t want to know
for themselves, they don’t want to think. After inviting one lady to pray, and we
invited her several times, she again told us that she had to talk to her pastor. We
respected the decision, but sorrowed that she didn’t want to free herself. So, we free
people spiritually, make them independent. There are still bishops, stake presidents,
and prophets to guide us, but fundamentally, we all can receive revelation for our
own lives.
“But I digress. My point is that I love this work. I love what I am doing
here, the difference, though small it be, that I am making. It’s like the story of the
man, walking along the beach, who saw a young girl throwing stranded sea stars back

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into the ocean. The old man admired her for doing so, but told her, there being
thousands of sea stars, what she was doing would never make a difference. Picking
up a sea star, and throwing it into the sea, she looked at the old man, and said, “it
made a difference to this one.”

The following is a portion from a letter that was written in April of 1997, and is
here translated into English

Mr. and Mrs. Barrett,

I am thankful to have known your son, and I want to tell you that you can
feel very proud of him. He is very honest and genuine. I want you to know that he
was one of the two reasons I made the decision to be baptized. Through his
testimony, I could feel the Holy Spirit. I also made this decision because I know that
God lives and loves us. It is for this reason that I ask in my prayers that our
Heavenly Father continue to give him inspiration as he finishes his mission. I
consider Elder Barrett to be one of my best friends, and even more so because he
made possible my baptism into the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. He
baptized me and Elder Jimenez confirmed me.

With love,
Erika

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Elder Barrett cleaning the streets of Matamoros

Elder Barrett navigating the flooded streets of Matamoros

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Elder Burch posing with a junky truck in Matamoros

Elders Barrett and Burch with “Primo” Garcia

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