Chapter Eleven: Belonging

Chapter Eleven
Belonging
I didn’t realize how much I had missed Huejutla until I returned for a visit. I
stayed with the Monterubio family for my three days in town, but my visits took me to
the furthest corners of that little Huastecan town. After eating lunch with Yolanda and
the girls, I set off to reacquaint myself with the sights, sounds, and inhabitants of Huejutla
de Reyes.
My first stop was to Elodia’s home. I approached from the south, and was
disappointed to see their old whitewashed daub and wattle home abandoned. I had spent
so much time in that house sharing spiritual messages, teaching the principles and
doctrines of the gospel, and now only the fleeting memories of those happy times
inhabited the lonely structure. I stopped and reflected on how much of my missionary
success had come from that home. Shaking my head to rid myself of the nostalgia, I
moved onward. I knew that Elodia and her family had owned a plot of land with a
partially completed house, and I concluded that the family had moved there when the
neighbors’ economic activities (which involved raising goats) inspired them to leave.
I found Elodia in the yard, washing clothes, with her daughter Susana sitting in
the hammock next to her, reading a book. I called out to them, and even in my t-shirt and
baseball cap they recognized me immediately. We embraced, happily reunited. Susana
went into the house and emerged again with a chair for me. I sat and we talked. Elodia
hurried through the rest of her chores, with help from Susana; the two of them wanted to
accompany me on the other visits that I would be making that day.
My next visit was to the home of the Nieto family, an odd structure of brick,
stick, and mud. They greeted me like a long-lost family member. We sat in their home, a
dark and unadorned dwelling with a single light bulb illuminating the interior. I recalled
fondly many evenings spent in their home, the many prayers that we made on the
family’s behalf. I smiled as I recalled the evening that María fed us homemade tamales.
We complimented her, of course, and told her how much we enjoyed her tamales. She
beamed in delight, and every evening thereafter, she had fresh, homemade tamales
WALKING THE DUSTY ROAD
waiting for us. Elder Avila soon grew tired of them, but continued to eat them with a stiff
smile on his face.
As Elodia, Susana, and I sat talking with the Nieto family, three small cats poked
their curious noses into the living room. María’s face lit up with delight; she grabbed the
cats and introduced them. The cats were named Barrett, Griffin, and Bravo, named for
the missionaries who had first taught them the Gospel. “Why don’t you have a cat named
Avila?” I inquired.
“We did. He was hit by a car and died a year ago,” responded Virginia. I smiled
ruefully as I wondered how Elder Avila would react if he ever learned that his feline
namesake had suffered such an ignominious end. As the visit wound to a conclusion, I
verified that María and Virginia were still attending Sunday meetings actively. My heart
surged with joy when they replied in the affirmative.
Our visit finished, Elodia, Susana, and I took a micro back to the Centro, where
we walked several blocks back to her home. Elodia insisted that I make one more visit
that afternoon, and led me across the river and through the adjoining neighborhoods.
Back in this area, I knew, lived a middle-aged woman to whom I had once taught the
gospel. It was back to this home that Elodia was leading me.
We were well received, and we sat down, drank lemonade, and talked for several
hours. I had discovered, shortly before I returned home, that this faithful woman had
been baptized. That afternoon, sitting on her porch, I discovered that her husband and
daughters had been baptized within the last year, and that her son was currently meeting
with the missionaries. Her eldest daughter was dating Disraeli Aradíaz, one of the
returned missionaries in the branch.
I sat back in the rocking chair, listening to the talk swirl around me. They spoke
of the Nieto family, of Adelfo, and of their own family. With all the hearts that I had
touched, with all the lives that remained changed forever, with all the love that filled my
soul, I knew that Huejutla was where I had left my mark deepest and longest. Elder
Barrett had left a lasting legacy.
Tuesday, May 6, 1997
We woke up at 4:30 to catch an early bus to Tampico. The companion

exchange portion of transfers was supposed to be accomplished at the Tampico
bus terminal at 9:00 a.m. Those of us who lived outside of the Tampico-Madero
area often had to catch early buses to Tampico so we would not delay the
transfers.
Once there, I was taken to the offices to receive training on how to train
my greenie. Elders Castro and Belengheri were there likewise and Elder Felley
will be a trainer in Matamoros. The latter was not present in the meeting, but his
greenie was given a packet of materials that he was to deliver to Elder Felley.
The materials covered the entire content of President Goodman’s training
meeting. I then received my new companion—Elder Avila, from Sonora.
After the meeting, I mingled at the bus station. I loved transfers, and I
loved the opportunity it gave me to keep track of elders who had been my friends
in other areas in other times. Elders Callister and Prunty are now zone leaders.
Those of us who had served with him in the MTC spoke to Callister in hushed
tones of wonder, but as was his custom, he shrugged off the unprecedented honor.
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Notwithstanding his own casual attitude, being called as zone leader at eleven
months was unheard of. He had only been serving as a district leader for three
weeks. He continued to serve as zone leader for three different zones over the
next ten months, and then finished his mission as a branch president in one of the
mission’s smaller pueblitos.
Meanwhile, Elders Stauffer, Taylor, Felley, Messervey, and Rule received
the call to serve as district leaders. The new A.P. is Elder Whetten, a former
comp of Elder Burch. Elder Burch’s new comp is ex-assistant, Elder Mejorada.
I met up with Burch today, and boy do I miss the guy. I hope to see him more
often in the future. We returned to Huejutla, unpacked, and rested. We then tried
to teach a second charla, but to no avail.
Wednesday, May 7, 1997
The day passed fairly quickly. My personal studies have halted a day or
so, so that I can read one of my companion’s books, one by Stephen E. Robinson.
It was a Spanish version of “Are Mormons Christians?” and it gave me a lot to
think about. The only reason that some denominations do not consider the LDS
religion a Christian one is a matter of semantics, the way they define the term
“Christian.” Most often, the definition also excludes others who are most
assuredly Christian. The book gave me new confidence in our message and in
myself.
I’m growing more confident as a senior comp, and Elder Avila seems to
be a good guy. He’s very upbeat and positive. I like him already. Elder Genero
Avila was a heavy-set, dark-haired young man from a beach resort near
Guyamas, Sonora. He spent a portion of his breakfast time every morning in
meditation, often times with a stick of incense burning nearby. He brought with
him to the mission field a book of mantras to cure every type of negative mental
state or sickness. While I was fairly conservative in my social and political views,
Elder Avila was literally a card-carrying member of Greenpeace. He frequently
challenged my worldview and forced me to open my eyes to new perspectives. We
often argued, but it was always the argument between siblings; our love and
respect for each other never faltered. I was his trainer, but he taught me much
more than I ever taught him.
We had our appointment for a second charla fall out tonight, but we have
rescheduled it for tomorrow. We showed a movie to Lupe Jimenez tonight, a
less-active who lives in our area. I think she was touched by it. Unfortunately, I
dropped the ball with Lupe Jimenez. Several days after this incident, we
borrowed her VCR so we could show a church video to Jorge and Nadia. When
we returned the VCR to the family, they claimed that they had also loaned us the
accompanying remote control, while I claimed I had never seen it. We never
made any more spiritual progress with the family; thereafter a rift opened
between us and we were never able to cross it. We taught a number of charlas
and contacted. All in all, I feel real optimistic about the next couple of months.
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Thursday, May 8, 1997
We taught another second charla today, to Nadia and Jorge, the potente
from last Friday. They accepted a baptismal date! We also taught a third charla
to Otilia. I almost lost my patience with her tonight. She told us once again how
she converted from Catholicism to Evangelicalism. I believe that makes four
times. When it was time to leave, she wouldn’t stop talking, and it wasn’t just
talking—it was aimless rambling.
More than anything, Otilia was a lonely old lady who just wanted some
company. We were missionaries from a non-Catholic religion, and as such she
felt some kinship with us. In a culture that was predominantly Catholic, Otilia felt
that she could open up to the elders and express to us her own faith in her
evangelical belief system. Although she severely taxed my patience, I had to
grudgingly respect her. Not only was she firm in a minority faith, but she had a
photographic memory; Otilia could recount to us, almost verbatim, nearly
everything she had ever read in her lifetime. However, she was still trapped
within a narrow worldview and we never could get through to her. But, I digress.
It was a great day. I ate another three mangos. My companion is a good guy, but
again, we are in that “honeymoon” stage.
My self-confidence has gone up a step or two, and oddly enough, so has
my dependence on the Lord. By leaning on Him and relying on His power, I
arrived at a deeper understanding of my own mission. I came to realize that I
was doing His work and was acting as His voice. By relying on my Heavenly
Father, my own success increased. I feel a closeness to Him that I have never
before felt, as if He and I were a team, working for the salvation of souls, mine
own included.
Streets are windy, curvy, and odd-angled. I got so turned around on such
a regular basis that I was never able to form a decent mental map of Huejutla.
Instead, I envisioned a network of nodes, important points like the chapel,
Elodia’s house, the Pista, or the open air market. Instead of fully understanding
their spatial relationship to each other, I memorized a standard route between
each of my nodes. In many cases, these pre-rendered routes were not the most
direct routes at all, but I didn’t care as long as I got to where I was going.
Elder Avila, on the other hand, had an excellent sense of direction and
often encouraged me to deviate from my set routes. At first I resisted his advice,
secure in my pride and certain that having spent more time in Huejutla, I knew
better than he. In time, I came to realize that in order to be successful, I needed
to utilize not only my own strengths, but those of my companion as well. Elder
Avila became our navigator.
Friday, May 9, 1997
Boy, am I wet! A huge storm hit this evening at about 8:00. We took
refuge at the house of Hermana Consuelo, a member who lived near the boundary
between my area and Elder Griffin’s area. Since she lived in the latter’s area, we
never did get to know her as well as the members in our own area. However, she
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was kind and open to all the missionaries, and she played an instrumental role in
my first baptism as a senior companion.
We had been working with a less-active member who lived nearby when
the rain started pouring down. Although Herlinda lived in Elder Griffin’s area,
we had special dispensation to work with her. The taco stand she ran was located
on the Pista, in our area, and we ate there once a week. On this evening, as we
were visiting with Herlinda and her daughter Sandra, the two had to excuse
themselves to greet some visitors. While they were gone, I picked up a Mexican
atlas that was laying nearby, and began memorizing the names and capitals of all
the Mexican states, a knowledge which has stayed with me even now, many years
later.
After we had finished that visit, as we were walking back towards the
Centro, the clouds opened up and we took refuge at the home of the closest
member, the aforementioned Hermana Consuelo. We sat on her front porch,
shooting the breeze and watching the storm. It was fun watching the lightning
and listening to the thunder. At ten till 9:00, the storm abated and we walked
home, puddle-jumping. It started raining again before we arrived, and the
electricity was out in our neighborhood. It’s been on and off and on since.
The rest of the day was hot, quite possibly the hottest I’ve ever yet felt.
We went exploring again this morning into another part of our area in which we
hardly work. It was fun and the view was magnificent. This was Rojo Gomez, a
neighborhood located on the top of a bluff overlooking the river. Access to the
area was fairly easy from the far side of the bluff, which was located in Elder
Griffin’s area. However, in order to access the colonia from our area, we had to
cross the Rio Tecoluco and climb hundreds of stairs set into the side of the tall,
rocky bluff. On this first visit, intrigued by the steep staircase, I counted the
number of stairs and found that there were, in reality, only 119 stairs to Rojo
Gomez!
I almost ate a rock in my beans today, my tooth still hurts because of it. I
guess I’m one day closer to talking to my family, I’m not as trunky as I was at this
time during the Christmas season. Ate some generic Oreo-like cookies with milk.
It was dreamy. Mmmmmmm, generic Oreos.
Saturday, May 10, 1997
We started the day with a morning of service. We cleaned the new

meetinghouse and prepared it for tomorrow. It was a little hectic locating and
obtaining keys, but we did it. The branch presidency, after a frantic search, had
finally settled on a pink house on the outskirts of Huejutla. The four room
structure was to serve as our interim meeting house during the duration of the
chapel construction. There had been other options closer to town, but many of
them proved to be unacceptable for one reason or another. For example, one
option that the branch presidency looked into was located in downtown Huejutla,
only three blocks east of the Plaza Principal. However, the building had
previously been used as a cantina, and Presidente Monterubio did not like the
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spirit he felt there. In the end, the leadership of the Huejutla branch opted for this
remote, pink house.
The afternoon flew by fairly fast. We invited Naftali’s son, Mateo, to
baptism, which he accepted. I think I could have verified a little better. During
these first months as a senior companion, I was still very nervous about extending
baptismal invitations. I would make the invitation, and when it was accepted, I
would move quickly on to the next principle in the discussion, hoping that the
investigator would thus be unable to change his or her mind or rethink the
proposition. As I grew more experienced, I learned how to verify better. I would
present each investigator with a list of things that we would have to do together in
order to prepare for that sacred event—listen to the remaining discussions, attend
a few meetings of church services, begin reading the Book of Mormon, and
continue praying faithfully.
We tried to show a movie to Nadia and Jorge, but our VCR, the one we
borrowed from Lupe Jimenez, didn’t hook up to their TV. So instead, we sang a
couple hymns and shared a scripture. Today was Mother’s Day in Mexico. Fun
day all round. I love my mission.
Sunday, May 11, 1997
Well, I talked to my parents today. That was dreamy. All is well on the
home front. I miss them a lot. But as far as the rest of the day is concerned, it
was pretty normal. We met in the new “chapel” today, which is really nothing
more than a little rented house. It’s pink. But we had some fine meetings. This
new meetinghouse was located on the border between the states of Hidalgo and
Veracruz, in a distant corner of my area. This temporary displacement affected
our investigators to a lesser degree than it affected those of Elder Griffin. His
investigators had to travel a much greater distance, thus motivating them to
attend Sunday meetings became a much greater chore. The new chapel, when it
was finally constructed, was in a much more centralized location.
I think I had a terrific moment this afternoon. We were talking with
Elodia and her daughters, Mimi and Susana (Elodia is Relief Society president).
It was time to go, and as is my custom, I asked if we could sing a hymn, have a
spiritual thought, and leave with a prayer. The spiritual thought I had chosen,
about the three testimonies of Joseph Smith, went a little longer than I had
planned. The spiritual thought included readings from the three accounts we
have of visions of the Savior to the Prophet—Joseph Smith History, and Doctrine
and Covenants sections 76 and 110. I ended by reading parts of section 135,
concerning the martyrdom of Joseph Smith, in my “speaker’s voice.” The spirit
was strong and wonderful, intense and calming. As I finished, I asked if we could
sing “Praise to the Man.” All in all, it was another great moment in my mission.
The spirit was amazingly strong. Present that day was a man whose name
I don’t remember, who had been the first branch president in Huejutla. However,
he had been less active for many years. Although he was estranged from the
branch, he still kept in touch with Elodia and her family, who were also one of the
earliest pioneers in Huejutla. Perhaps the message that day touched him and
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reminded him of the strength that the spirit gives us in our everyday lives. One
can only hope.
We visited the Aradíaz family and chatted a bit with Xochitl. After a very
full day, we returned home and had our dialogo de acuerdo. I really miss my
family, but it sounds like the Lord is blessing them a ton. I can’t wait to see Blake
again and go on a few road trips with him. I want to prepare him for the temple
and a mission. I love my family, something I didn’t realize two or three years
ago. I can’t wait to spend the rest of eternity with them.
Monday, May 12, 1997
It was a very long and a very short day. We spent most of the morning
washing clothes at Hermana Lupita’s house. We ate lunch at her house, the best
food she has yet given us. Normally, she feeds us spinach and vegetables and
things of that kind. Today we had flautas. It’s a crying shame that I was feeling a
little sick and could only eat four of the eight flautas given me. That was about all
my P-Day, because at 3:30 we left the house to catch a bus to San Felipe.
The road from Huejutla to San Felipe is gorgeous! It was mountainous
and jungley. Of all the sights and vistas that I was exposed to throughout my
mission, of all the highways I traversed and the roads I traveled, nothing remains
as vivid in my memory as that long and lonely camino between Huejutla and San
Felipe. Green hills rose on every side, many of them planted with corn. Thick
forests, small villages, lonely dirt roads stretching off into nowhere. It was often
overcast or drizzly when we made that journey, and such is the image that has
stayed with me these many years. If I could return to Mexico for only a single
day, I would return to that beautiful stretch of rural countryside.
Once we arrived in San Felipe, we had a real, honest-to-goodness district
meeting and then returned home. During the previous weeks, I had stayed in
Huejutla with my companion and had a district meeting with only the two of us.
After the transfers, the zones in the Huasteca were reorganized, and so our zone
now only consisted of the four elders from Huejutla, the two from San Felipe, and
the two from the next town down the road, Tamazunchale. The president thus
authorized funds for my companion and I to travel to San Felipe every week and
be part of the social and spiritual life of the zone. However, this great day was
overshadowed by my increasing nausea. When I returned home I was feeling a
little sick, so I went to bed early.
Well, I woke up this morning, popped a pill, and I was feeling better by
9:00. So, we left to work, but I started feeling cruddy again. I tried to continue
working, and we did. When we returned home, I called Sister Goodman, who
told me that I should stay in bed tomorrow. It’s either flu, dengue, or
dehydration. Or a combination of the three. Or as it turned out, none of the
above. This was the beginning of my sickest week as a missionary. For a couple
of days, Sister Goodman feared the worst—malaria.
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During the day, I drew water from a well. Our relationship with Lupe
Jimenez and her family was rapidly deteriorating due to the mystery of the
missing VCR remote control. In an attempt to rectify the situation and express
our love and concern for her and her family, we did a few odd jobs around the
house for her. One of these jobs was fetching water from the neighborhood well,
something I had never done before and thus I made note of it in my journal.
My companion is an apostate, but I love him anyways. After having
observed him for a week, and witnessed many of his idiosyncrasies, I concluded
that he was like no other missionary I had ever met, and hence the good-natured
label of “apostate.” He’s ultra-liberal, reads Gandhi, Buddha, and Confucius,
and is a member of Greenpeace. I’ve never had a companion so unlike me, nor
one who is so similar. While I recognized our many differences, I was also able
to recognize the many things we shared in common, not least of which was our
love for and dedication to the work of the Lord. He once asked me who I thought
of as a great thinker. When I replied “Jesus Christ” he felt a little embarrassed,
agreed with me, and added that he thought Joseph Smith was also a great thinker.
While writing in my journal, the zone leaders returned from Tampico with a
bunch of letters. Gotta go.
Well, what a boring day. Still feeling sick, I opted for bed rest, hoping
that the respite would have a beneficial affect on my failing constitution. Thus, I
stayed inside all day and read the letters that I received last night. I also read most
of the Ensign General Conference report and wrote a grip of letters. Most of them
are to friends serving in missions the world over, and I thought it was high time
that I wrote them. I received a letter from Hermana Bachman, one of my MTC
sisters, yesterday which inspired me to write back to others. She got a four pager,
everyone else got a dinky one page letter. Other letters I wrote that day included
epistles to friends in Canada, Ecuador, Mexico, and India.
I was feeling healthy most of the day, and disappointed that I wasn’t
working. Nevertheless, I still had no appetite. The only food that entered my
stomach the whole day was a bowl of Fruit Loops in the morning. Fearing that I
might be dehydrated, my companion gave me a packet of “suero” to drink. The
concoction, containing all sorts of vitamins and minerals, was designed to
rehydrate small children suffering from diarrhea. It tasted so nasty, that when
Elder Avila insisted I take a second dose, instead of mixing it with water, I mixed
it with Gatorade. It didn’t make it any more palatable.
But again, in the evening, I’m starting to feel lousy again. Chills one
minute, fevers the next. I took my temp, and did the calculations. It says I have a
fever of 38.9 degrees Celsius, or in other words, 102 degrees Fahrenheit. Before
I went to bed, I received an administration from the priesthood at the hands of
Elder Griffin.
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I had an awful couple of hours last night, tossing and turning, and not
sleeping. I would lie in bed, feeling feverish and unwell, and at the drop of a hat,
I would begin to feel chills. I would then huddle underneath my thin blanket until
the feverish feeling returned. At one point, I got up and walked around the small
apartment, and feeling feverish still, I opened the backdoor and slipped into our
backyard, hoping that the cool night air might refresh me and help me find some
relief on that awful night. Unfortunately, nights in the tropics are not cool and I
received no comfort from that midnight excursion. Finally, At 1:00 am, the fever
broke and I drifted off into peaceful sleep.
In the morning, I felt good enough to go out working. However, my
appetite had still not returned. This did not keep me from trying my best that day.
In fact, I had the best study period to date in my mission. I learned and felt a ton.
In the afternoon, I taught a music class to Elodia and Susana. Yes, I did. But in
the evening, the fever returned. Not as strong, only 101 this time. It worries me.
Sister Goodman is going to call in the morning with a diagnosis—if I don’t die
first, that is.
Well, what a day. I hope to see tomorrow. Shortly after finishing this
entry, I got a call from a very worried Sister Goodman. The mission president’s
wife has called me to come up to Tampico tomorrow. She was quite worried
because my temperature, she said, was higher than is safe for a normal adult.
Though lower than the previous night, it was still too high for her comfort. Her
biggest fear was that I had caught malaria, since my symptoms matched that
disease fairly closely. Her over-cautious reaction to my failing health may have
been inspired by a letter she had received the previous day. The letter had been
sent out to all mission presidents in Mexico warning them of the dangers of
malaria. Sister Goodman was pretty sure that my sickness wasn’t malaria, but
she figured that it would be safer to overreact than to let me die.
Friday, May 16, 1997
Well, I spent the day up here in Tampico, where I am writing now in the
mission offices. We arrived shortly after noon and I had an appointment with Dr.
Juarez at 2:00. I’ve decided that I don’t like doctors. My dislike for Dr. Juarez
was one that I shared with my companion. I disliked his clipped, rapid-fire
speech. Elder Avila, on the other hand, believed in various new-age healing
techniques, and distrusted medical doctors on general principal. I had some tests
done, blood drawn, and urine collected.
President and Sister Goodman were really worried about malaria, my
symptoms matched exactly. Dr. Juarez, however, politely informed Sister
Goodman that malaria has been completely eradicated from the western
hemisphere and that it was therefore impossible for me to have contracted it. He
did not run any malaria tests. When I returned to the mission home, and Sister
Goodman learned that Dr. Juarez had not heeded her desires for a malaria test,
she called him back in a fury. When the doctor tried to reason with her, she asked
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for him to simply humor her and run the danged test. In the end, it was
unnecessary; it came out negative, thankfully. However, it was nice to learn that
Sister Goodman would fight tooth and nail for my well-being.
The diagnosis was that I have a urinary track infection. I’ll get a
prescription for a couple of drugs, and I have to return next week to pee in a cup.
My humor has been striking out all day; I think the president may be a little
exasperated with me. After returning from my doctor’s appointment, the office
elders took us to the mission home. We still had several hours to wait for the
results of the tests, so I asked President Goodman if he had any church books I
could borrow. He put his arm around me and said, “let me tell you about my
favorite church book. It’s called the Book of Mormon.” There were other
moments during the day when I felt a little embarrassed in front of the Prez.
It’s now 8:30 and I feel the fever returning, so I thought that I’d write now
before I become delirious. It’s kind of like Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde. I’m a little
disillusioned with some of the office elders. I still had a notion of the ideal uber-
elder, and the office staff did not match that ideal. Since I spent the night in their
home that evening, I had a chance to watch them up close and personal. They
liked to laugh and joke and have fun, just like the rest of us.
I went to Wal-Mart this morning; it was a very American experience. We

arrived just as they were opening, and all the employees were standing in a big
circle in some sort of pep-rally ritual thing. After we finally got someone to help
us at the pharmacy, we bought me some drugs (three different boxes!) for my
infection. I still think my doctor is a quack, but to give him some credit, the stuff
he prescribed seems to work. To this day, I don’t believe that I had a urinary
infection. However, the drugs worked, so I guess I have no cause to complain. I
never did come to trust Dr. Juarez, though.
I’m feeling great! First night in some time that I can say that. We
returned home to Huejutla in the afternoon. We left in the morning, 9:00 and
arrived at 1:15 p.m. We visited a less-active sister with whom we had been
working. She broke down into tears and told us that her husband has been
drinking again. We don’t have jurisdiction in those matters, but her husband is a
new convert, and therefore one of our primary responsibilities. We gave her a
priesthood blessing. In the evening we presented to them both a lesson about
eternal families.
I’m feeling pretty healthy and well right now. I ate more today than I ever
have before (this week, that is). We ate at our regular lunch appointment with the
Monterubios, as well as with Naftali and his family, and I just ate a whole bunch
of homemade bean burritos for dinner.
Sunday meetings went well; they made me extremely happy. I love this
branch. There is a family spirit here. I am enjoying Huejutla and her diversities.
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This evening we had a little devotional with the Naftali Gomez family. At the
conclusion, I offered a prayer in English, my companion in Spanish, and Hermano
Gomez in Nahuatl. These tranquil days with the Gomez family would soon come
to an end. When I began my sojourn in Huejutla, their home was one of our bases
of operation. However, in the coming weeks, Naftali would have a falling-out
with the Church and would lead his family back into inactivity. He was a proud
man, and when he was offered a job as a laborer on the new chapel, he refused.
He felt that with his extensive experience, he should be a foreman. He not only
stopped going to church because of this sad incident, but he also put his family in
jeopardy by refusing honest work.
We had a long, patient talk with Otilia, after which it was decided that we
wouldn’t return. She doesn’t listen to a thing we say, unless it fits into her narrow
world-view and way of understanding. She is still so glued to her Evangelical
religion and its claims of originating at Pentecost. She likes all her rigid rules,
and says that Jesus didn’t dance. She said our religion wasn’t holy because we
engaged in such activities. I hope she is happy worshipping her Bible. I take
comfort in believing that perhaps she’s too senile to be accountable.
Elder Avila and I are still pretty good friends. It still may break, but I’ll be
working hard to have a good companionship. I did some exercises this morning; I
hope to continue with the routine. I didn’t. Studies slowed down this week due to
sickness, but they are picking up again. Time to delve into the New Testament
again.
Great little P-Day. We went to “downtown” Huejutla to pay the water,

buy some “stuff,” and get a haircut. I even had time for a nap and a few letters. I
wrote to home, Rebekah, and good ole Grandpa McKnight. This latter individual
was not my literal grandfather, but rather a Sunday school teacher who had been
highly influential in my life. I had received a letter from him and it made me
think fondly of the ward I attended as a young man and the wonderful memories
that are mine because of it.
We went to San Felipe again in the afternoon, and returned and made
some plans. This new planning system is very similar to what I concocted in
Matamoros with Elder Rule. We make very specific goals for each investigator,
every day, up to three weeks in advance. Now, we have to make plans to achieve
these goals. By this time, I was finally feeling comfortable in my role as a trainer
and my confidence in my abilities as a senior comp was such that I could begin
deviating from the established routine taught to me by my previous companions.
Elder Avila and I made a goal to be more goal-oriented. We talked about each of
our individual families, where they needed to be in one month’s time, and how we
would help them to progress to that point. We then made our plans based on
those goals, instead of making plans to just fill up time.
I’m looking forward to working extremely hard this week. We need to
catch up on some lost time. After the district meetings that night, I played a little
basketball in San Felipe. It made me feel good, tired, energetic, and healthy.
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Despite the stereotype, I only played basketball a handful of times while on my

mission. Part of this was due to the fact that Mexican chapels had outdoor
basketball courts, and when it wasn’t raining too hard to play, then the sun was
too scorchingly hot to do so. However, spring in the Huasteca is a fabulous time
of year. The mild climate is wonderful and invigorating. At various times during
my term of service in Huejutla, the four of us (myself, Avila, Griffin, and Bravo)
would travel to San Felipe a few hours early and play a little basketball with the
two elders serving there (Kennedy and Maxil).
The day was one of the best. The mission has stopped counting contacts,
so there is less stress on that front. President Goodman, in searching for a way to
motivate the missionaries to be more effective, initiated the charla-contacto. Too
many elders were making street contacts that ultimately lead nowhere but
nevertheless showed up in the weekly statistics report. Thus, the new direction
the Prez gave to us was to teach a quick five-minute version of the first charla.
The goal was to make every contact a quality contact. This was later updated to
the CCC, or charla-contacto con cita (discussion-contact with return
appointment). We gave some charlas, spent some time with menos activos, and
had a very balanced day, all said and done. I’m getting into an exercise routine—
I’ve started getting up at 6:00 a.m. again to provide for it.
After an excellent day of missionary work, we headed home in high spirits.
It started raining, so my comp handed me his umbrella. I opened it, and promptly
began to sing “Mary Poppins” songs. It made me homesick for the good old
classics from Hollywood.
A very well-balanced day. We ended with five charlas, three of them

quickie charla-contacts, one of them a real quality sit-down-and-talk charla, and a
third charla with Nadia. Hermana Elodia went with us to the latter. She’s the
Relief Society president and a real example to me. She is so humble and
cheerful. She has so much energy and zeal.
Elodia was connected, in some form or another, to all of my baptisms in
Huejutla. Whether by giving us the original reference, or by sitting in on charlas
and fellowshipping new members, she was always helping to move the work of the
Lord forward. Our frequent visits at her home became a daily tradition, to the
point that I once told her that no day was complete without a visit with Elodia.
During my post-mission visit to Huejutla, I stopped by her house each of the three
days I was in town. Though I have since lost contact with her, I know the Lord
continues to bless her; she has given her all to the Lord’s kingdom.
It’s a shame that her husband is not active. Her husband, Primitivo, was
less-active, and when he wasn’t working at the local gas station, we could often
find him laying in a hammock outside his family’s home. The two of them lived in
a small, one-room whitewashed adobe house with two daughters and a son. Mimi
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and Susana were teenagers, and Luis was a child of five. I loved the entire family
dearly, though it wasn’t until later in my mission that I got to know and learned to
truly respect Primitivo.
I had forgotten how inept a greenie can be with charlas—I was once that
way, too! I had only been training Elder Avila for two weeks, and one of those
weeks was nearly devoid of teaching due to my illness. The week leading up to
this entry had been one of my most successful; we were teaching a lot of people
and making further progress with our teaching pool. During one of these charlas,
I sat back and watched Elder Avila teach. I noted how ill-at-ease he was, his
hesitation in reading the questions directly from the handbook, and his frequent
questioning glances in my direction. He made rapid progress, however, and
finished his entire training during the three months he was under my tutelage.
We had a correlation meeting, finally. My first as a senior comp and
(maybe this is mere coincidence) the first correlation meeting in which I did not
nod off. I feel great. We’ve had a wonderful couple of days. I got my shoes
fixed and I feel close to my Savior. There’s not a whole lot more a guy needs.
(Although I had to bathe in a bucket—we had no water this morning!)
You win some and you lose some. Today wasn’t really that bad, but it
came upon the heels of some great days. We taught the first charla to a friend of
Elodia. I am continually impressed by Elodia’s faith. I want so much for her
daughters to marry in the temple and avoid the problems I see in so many other
families here in Mexico. However, the chance of that happening in Huejutla is
low. There just were not very many young men in the Huejutla Branch.
We had a bunch of fall-outs. Number-wise, we did okay—I have no cause
to complain. We just may have reached Herlinda’s daughter, Sandra. We spoke
with her while eating lunch at Herlinda’s little taco shop on the Pista. We had
spoken with her on various other occasions, but had never made a connection.
However, when we shared our spiritual message with Herlinda, we could tell that
Sandra had been touched, and we took the opportunity to teach Sandra a little
something about the Spirit of God. We have a return appointment tomorrow.
A strong family in Enseñanza really turned out weak, and vice versa. The
mission is like a house of cards in an earthquake zone. Build it quick! You never
know when Satan is going to ruin your carefully constructed plans. We could
show up to an appointment with our most potente investigator only to be told that
they no longer wished to continue with the discussions. No reason would be
given, only a polite request that we never return. However, God was also at work
in the mission field. We could show up at an appointment with a rather lackluster
investigator, only to discover that the individual had prayed and received a
confirmation from the Spirit that our message was true. In a matter of days, our
entire teaching pool could flip-flop.
More confident in myself than ever before.
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I guess this means that I’m twenty years old now. I’m no longer a
teenager. The day was low in productivity, but what we did accomplish was
effective. We spent some time tracking down a nurse friend (Maribel, a member),
so that I could pee in a cup. Dr. Juarez, up in Tampico, wanted to check on my
health, but instead of wasting a whole day by peeing in Dr. Juarez’s cup in
Tampico, I took care of the whole shebang in Huejutla’s rural hospital. That was
tons of fun.
Our lunch appointment made me a cake—microwaved, if you can believe
it. When Yolanda Monterubio discovered that today was my birthday, she
panicked. I really hadn’t expected her to prepare anything for me, but I
underestimated Mexican hospitality. Yolanda made a quickie cake and my friends
began chanting “mordida,” which means “bite.” As was customary in Mexico, I
was supposed to take a large bite from the side of the cake, sans utensils, and
while I did so, my so-called friends would take advantage of my defenseless
position and shove my face into the cake. I allowed them to do so, but I got even
by kissing the two little daughters of President Monterubio with my frosting-
covered face. Katia cried.
We had a great follow-up visit with a new family; we read a chapter in the
Book of Mormon that I’ve never before read with investigators (3 Nephi 17). I
had decided that this chapter was the most pathos-filled of any chapter in the
Book of Mormon, and determined to use it more often with investigators. It
contains the account of the Savior praying for the Nephites, healing their sick,
and blessing their children.
Nadia still seems reserved and shy, but says she is “sure” about being
baptized. What a day!
Our morning started out rather slow, but picked up towards the end of the
day. My companion and I are still getting along fine—with only one tense
moment today. I’ve noticed he complains a lot—about bad-tasting food, unpaved
roads, and giving talks in church. However, I think I need to just give him time to
adjust to missionary life. I’m sure I would have complained as much or more if I
had been able to communicate with anyone in Soto la Marina. Once he gets his
bearings, our styles will blend well and we’ll have tons of success.
One of our female investigators wanted to congratulate me (for my recent
birthday) with a hug. I explained why I couldn’t. She was still very touchy—
made me uncomfortable. My comp told me to relax, but I think I should keep my
guard up. The investigator was part of a whole family of flirtatious young women,
and our relationship with them deteriorated from that point onward. We never
taught them another discussion, though two years later, during my visit in
Huejutla, I discovered that they were taking the charlas once again from Elder
Hoyt and his companion. He reported that they were still a bunch of musas, but
he was doing his best to move them along the path of discipleship.
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I received a birthday present from Lucero Aradíaz. She, like Yolanda

Monterubio before her, wanted to do something special for my birthday. From
Lucero, I received a gift bag with a bar of Zest soap and a couple of washcloths.
Later that evening, my companion presented me with his own gift to me—a six-
pack of Snickers. I was surprised that these American candy bars could be found
in rural Mexico.
I love this whole mission thing.
I had some eye-opening experiences today. In the evening, we helped

Hermana Rut Gomez with a few tests. She’s trying to pass an exam to receive a
certificate for “primeria”—roughly equivalent to an elementary school degree. It
really sobered me that she couldn’t do some basic things that I had always taken
for granted—like division or averages. We tried to help her, and I certainly hope
she passes.
While we were walking home, a drunk guy called me by name. Although
drunks were always approaching us, very few ever called us by name. I guess
that’s always a little scary. He told us how he wanted to stop drinking, but he
couldn’t. He said he’d been drunk since Friday night. I just can’t imagine being
in bondage like that. I am so thankful for the gospel truths which make us free.
Thus began one of the saddest experiences of my mission. I spoke with the
gentleman, discovered that he lived in Elder Griffin’s area, and passed the
contact to him.
Elder Griffin would not write him off as a common drunk, as I would have
done, and instead visited the man in his home and began teaching him. The man
began to change his entire life. He came to church, he stopped drinking, and he
became a better husband and father. However, once his mother-in-law
discovered that he had been meeting with the “Mormons,” she demanded that he
terminate his association with the elders. Since the family was living on her
property, they obeyed her wishes. This brother stopped meeting with the
missionaries, and he soon returned to his drunken self-destruction. All because of
a knee-jerk reaction to Mormonism and a refusal to acknowledge the marvelous
fruits of repentance that our message had brought forth.
I taught the Gospel Principles class today about faith—and we had a BIG
class. We had eight investigators from our area, and five from the other. It was
cool! We had a bunch of people in attendance. Elder Avila gave his first
sacrament talk today, and though he was a little nervous and unsure of himself, I
think he presented his message well. We tried to teach a second charla today, we
had Susana accompany us to it and everything. The charla fell through—we’ll
return another day. I love the mission and my new companion. It’s very, very
hot—I’m sweating—even at night with a fan.
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P-Day came, it left, and now it’s gone and I’m still tired. But I think that’s
because of the heat. Just standing around is enough to break a sweat. We washed
clothes today—it was our week to do that chore. Every other week Elder Avila
and I would wash laundry. On the off week we would go into town to pay the
bills, withdraw money, and, if need be, get haircuts. I played a little Super
Nintendo with Hermana Lupita’s children. However, her two oldest sons were
home from Benimerito, and with so many kids in the house, my turn did not last
very long, nor come very frequently. Instead, I spent most of my time reading a
few old Ensigns.
I got in a brief nap in the afternoon—kind of. It was so hot I couldn’t
sleep. Instead I just laid on my bed in my underwear and closed my eyes. I only
wrote a single letter home, but I hope to receive a bunch tomorrow. We had a
family home evening with Nadia in the evening—which was pretty cool. It went
as planned, if you ignore the fact that we started half an hour late.
Tomorrow is a conference—yippee!!!! I ALWAYS look forward to them.
Extracts from a Letter to my Parents
“It’s been hot down here lately. You just wouldn’t believe it. I’m perpetually
drenched in sweat, and when we have to climb a hill, well, it’s a killer. The evenings
are no better. Even with a fan in our room, it feels like an oven. Now, I’m not
complaining. I’m just trying to paint a picture for you. I sort of miss my sub-
freezing Matamoros.
“If you want to hear someone complain, you should listen to my companion.
I’m trying to remember what it’s like to be new in the mission—new rules, new
lifestyle, new everything. I imagine everyone makes the transition differently. I had
the advantage of doing much of the transition in the MTC. My companion, having
only spent 19 days in the Mexican MTC, has to make his transition in the field. I can
understand why he complains a lot. But don’t misunderstand me. He and I are
getting along great, despite our differences. We’re working as a team and having
success. It’s just that he bugs me at times, which, I suppose, is wholly natural.”
The conference today was in Tempoal. I rode the bus with good ole Elder
Kennedy. We talked about everything! It was tons of fun. Today, my humor
scored big! It was a rare day—I was on a roll. President Goodman gave us a
quiz on the commitment pattern, as he so often did. For one of my answers, I
wrote “besarse en creencias comunes,” which looks very similar to the correct
answer of “basarse.” However, my answer implied that we should be kissing our
investigators. Elder Portillo, who was grading my quiz, read my answer out loud
to the three zones present that day, and President Goodman laughed himself
speechless.
I ate five Sloppy Joes—not because I was particularly hungry, but because
I had a reputation to defend. I got to see Elder Portillo again; I sat by him at the
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conference. We had a great time. I had only served under him for a couple of
weeks while I had been in Panuco, but he and I had connected in a very genuine
way. I thought he was an impressive and thoughtful leader, and would have given
anything to have been able to serve with him again.
President Goodman talked about the three most important things to
missionary work—1) the Spirit (which comes through obedience); 2) the
commitment pattern, which allows future members to feel the Spirit; and 3) a
vision of the work. President Goodman came to us by way of CES. His lessons
and talks were always so amazingly well constructed; he knew how to connect
with young people. His presentation this day left me in awe, and with a desire to
work harder than ever before.
He related two economic laws—the law of increasing returns and the law
of decreasing returns. In the latter, the more you do something, the marginal
benefits you get from doing it multiple times begins to diminish. With the law of
increasing returns, the more you perform a task, the additional benefits slowly
increase. You may not see results until weeks, months, or even years have passed.
This is how the Lord operates. We work and we work, but we don’t see the results
until after the trial of our faith. He related to us a few stories about missionaries
who gave up just as they were about to see results. He finished his message with
a brief “history of the world,” and how missionary work fit into the grand scheme
of world events.
One of the greatest days of my mission—despite a correlation meeting that

started an hour and a half late. We gave eight charlas! A personal record. I gave
as many charlas in one day, as I would have given in an average week in
Matamoros! One of these was a fourth charla to Nadia. It was one of the best
I’ve ever taught. The Spirit was so strong and gentle. It exhausted and
exhilarated me. We also had a great follow-up with Yarazet—who prayed,
received an answer from God, and knows it to be such. There were still down
moments—it’s still hot. But who cares! I’m in the service of my Lord and King.
I really don’t need much more. I love Elder Avila—he’s a great companion. I
have so much to do, I need a 36-hour day to get it all accomplished!!!
I just don’t have enough time in the day to accomplish everything I want
to. It’s not fair! We gave service at a school near our house—cutting grass and
planting trees. Needless to say, doing this for two hours in the hot sun drained me
of a good part of my energy.
We did, however, get in a fairly good day. We received a reference from
Elodia, taught a few good charlas, and re-claimed the Nieto family from the “not-
worth-the-time” list. It turns out that their Evangelical church began charging a
mandatory tithe, and this offended the family. Since they were good friends with
Elodia, they began attending church with her instead.
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We had inherited the Nieto family from the elders who had vacated the
area three weeks before my arrival in Huejutla. However, I had been
unimpressed with them, and had spent very little time in their home. The father
was over eighty years old, the mother was in her fifties and barely spoke any
Spanish (she spoke Nahuatl). They had two children living at home. Virginia was
a nurse, and at one point had been a devout Evangelical. For the longest time,
she would begin all her prayers by reciting, “by the blood of Jesus Christ, our
Savior.” She had a younger brother, who was only five years old.
We also had a wonderful experience with Eva and Teófila. They know the
Book of Mormon is true! They are so cool. These two were sisters and next-
door-neighbors. However, Eva’s husband soon thereafter denied her the right to
listen to the discussions. Teófila’s husband, Ernesto, was much more
understanding. We’ve been kneeling in prayer more often with investigators.
I’m trying to be 100% obedient. Blessings WILL come.
We usually followed the river into town in the mornings. For most of the
walk, we were on a dirt road or path, but as it neared the center of town, the way
became paved, until it became a small park near one of Huejutla’s bridges. As
we walked through the park this morning, an old Indian woman shouted curses at
us in Nahuatl. It was a little disturbing, but kind of funny at the same time.
I expressed my Yoda-Spencer W. Kimball theory to Elder Griffin, but he
rejected the idea. All I said was that Yoda looked like the erstwhile prophet, they
both had croaky voices, and they both espoused similar philosophies. The former
prophet said “do it” and the former Jedi master said “do or do not, there is no
try.”
Today the assistants came down from Tampico to work with Elders Bravo
and Griffin. At lunch, therefore, we had two extra mouths to feed. After we ate, I
had a split with Elder Bravo. He makes me uncomfortable because he is so very
quiet. We taught a few charlas, him and I, and then Nadia had her pre-interview.
She’s so different from Erika—I’m still trying to learn how to reach her more
effectively.
In retrospect, I should never have baptized Nadia, but I still don’t know
what I should have done instead. I suspected that she didn’t have a testimony, but
she had a problem with saying “no” to anyone. I would ask her if she believed
what we had told her, and she would reply in the affirmative. I would ask her if
she wanted to get baptized, and she would nod her head vigorously. We had
made contact with the family through her brother Jorge, who, while interested in
our message, was often out of the house working. In a perfect world, we would
have taught and baptized Nadia’s brother instead. The interview with her went
long—she had a bunch of questions—so we arrived home late.
Why do people get so hung up on “religion”? They say—“I’m Catholic, I
can’t accept your pamphlet” or “No thanks, I’m an Adventist.” Well, that’s great,
but I’m not preaching a religion, I’m preaching the Gospel of Jesus Christ—in its
pure and simple form.
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Holy cow! What a day! In the morning we only taught two charlas—but
they were both second charlas, and they were effective! We had Pablo and
Maribel with us for both of them and they bought us Cokes afterwards. They are
such a cool family. Pablo worked for the Department of Health and spent a good
portion of every month traveling through the small towns of the Huasteca
teaching people healthy lifestyle practices. He and Maribel had two children,
David and Jade, and they were expecting a third, conceived on or around the day
in early April when they had been baptized. They lived in the same neighborhood
as the Monterubios, and both Pablo and Maribel served in the Young Men’s and
Young Women’s presidencies. I admired the both of them for throwing
themselves so completely into their new religion.
Pontificated on Forrest Gump during lunch. Elder Griffin didn’t buy that
one either. All I was saying this time was that Forrest represented innocence and
redemption. He was a quixotic figure in a world that was rapidly loosing its
integrity.
As we were walking to Teófila’s house that night, I saw a drunk guy pee
on a car. This was near the Centro, in full view of passers-by. I guess that’s par
for the course, Huejutla on a Saturday night.
In the evening we finally taught the second discussion to Teófila, Elvira
(her daughter), Elena (her niece), and María (her other niece). We had
fellowshippers—it was a large charla (14 people). The Gomez clan, who lived up
the street (and up the hill) from Teófila accompanied us to the charla, and
participated therein. All of the investigators present accepted baptism. I now
have more people with baptismal goals than I’ve ever had before. I don’t know
how I’ll be able to meet all their needs.
I finally called Dr. Juarez back—I was supposed to do it a week ago. I
was supposed to report to him on the results of the urine test I had taken on my
birthday. However, I was just now calling him with that information. I haven’t
procrastinated like that since . . . well, I’ll finish that thought tomorrow.
Sunday, June 1, 1997
I thought a lot about the Aurora Hills ward today. What it meant to me,
what I learned there. It was a very special place. Much like the Huejutla Branch.
Today, we had ninety people in attendance. When we first moved into our
temporary meeting house, the branch presidency feared that attendance would
drop, since meetings would be so far from the center of town. The opposite
seemed to be true. The little pink house in which we are meeting was filled to
overflowing.
We had eight investigators and three less-actives in our meetings. Two of
the investigators were Virginia and her mother. They’re Evangelicals. But their
church has started charging money, so they are coming to the only other church
that they know—ours! They don’t want to be baptized yet, but if they spend any
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more time in our church, that’ll soon change. While this was prophetic, it took a
month and a half, and an assist from Elder Griffin. However, it did happen, and
they did eventually accept the restored gospel of Christ. Of course, until that time
she’ll just continue to taint our other investigators. She told Teófila today that it
was a mockery before God to be baptized multiple times.
Teófila is still very excited about the Church—both her and her children.
All of them had been in church—Teófila, Xochitl, Elvira, Alma, and Felipe. I love
this family so much. I can’t wait to see them baptized. Teófila really enjoyed
church that day, and felt the Spirit. She and her family were ready to be baptized.
I was always afraid to have investigators in Church on any fast Sunday.
Too often, the pulpit was used as a Rameumpton, and too often, the things said at
the pulpit were offensive or untrue or doctrinally unsound. In Huejutla, we had
one member who had a habit of preaching a sermon in place of bearing a
testimony on fast Sunday. On one occasion, as he was approaching the pulpit, a
member of the branch presidency quietly whispered to him “It’s a testimony, not a
talk.” When he finished with his sermon that day, an awkward silence fell over
the congregation. I whispered to Elder Avila, “watch this” and then proceeded to
the pulpit myself. I bore a simple testimony, leaving out unnecessary anecdotes,
and trying to be as heartfelt and sincere as possible. Equilibrium was restored,
an example was set, and the spirit returned to the meeting.
Elodia told us about the lazy freeloader that’s now living with her. She
took her in, a homeless lady and her two kids; she fed them, sheltered them, and
now she’s being taken for a ride. Elodia and her husband owned a partially
finished home a few blocks from their current one-room daub-and-wattle home.
However, they were having a hard time finding the initiative to finish the more
spacious house. When their neighbors began quartering sheep and goats on the
large lot next to their small hut, the family banded together and quickly finished
the construction of their new home. However, during this period of half-finished
homes, saintly Elodia would take in people who needed help, and give them a
place to stay in the unfinished home.
We sang “A Poor Wayfaring Man of Grief” for several members today. It
was great. Elder Avila and I are going to practice it and sing it for members and
investigators. I LOVE HUEJUTLA!
Monday, June 2, 1997
I got up on the wrong side of the bed this morning. I was grouchy during
devotional. Changed my attitude though—I didn’t like being a pissy-pants. It
was a pretty regular P-Day. In the district meeting in the evening, I gave the
lesson on how to use the scriptures better in our teaching. I taught the elders that
the Bible is our shield, but the Book of Mormon is our sword. We should use the
Bible to defend our doctrines, but not to teach them. If all of our doctrines could
be taught using the Bible, then we are only proving that there had been no need
for a restoration. Much of what I taught was taken directly from Here We Stand,
by Joseph Fielding McConkie. Elder Kennedy said I did a good job, and that his
comp likes my speaking style. That made me feel good.
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On the way home from San Felipe, we were delayed half an hour or more
by an overturned Pepsi truck in the road. It was pretty exciting and boring at the
same time. Our bus stopped, everyone got out, milled around, and then, when the
Pepsi truck had been cleared from the middle of the road, we continued on our
way once again.
I guess I’m creeping up on Hump Day. I can’t believe it’s only been a
year. My comp is cool, but kind of a wimp—he claims five distinct sicknesses. I
was raised with a “suck-it-up and walk-it-off” attitude towards health and
sickness. I had very little patience for people, like my comp, who catalogued their
sicknesses and kept close track of them. It’s strange to look back on it now, that
he and I got along so well, when I had every reason to dislike and distrust him.
Such is the miracle of the mission field.
Tuesday, June 3, 1997
I don’t know why all the weirdoes are in my area. We contacted a

transvestite today—made me uncomfortable to look at him. When I first
approached him on the street to contact him, I thought he was a woman. When he
opened his mouth to introduce himself as Isabel, and I heard his gruff, manly
voice, my eyebrows shot up, but I finished the contact nonetheless. He is a child
of God—we gave him a quick charla and moved on.
We lost some time today by eating lunch twice—once with Maribel and
then again with Herlinda. The latter was our regularly scheduled lunch
appointment, and the former had invited us to eat while she and her husband
accompanied us on our charlas the previous Saturday. We grew very close to this
family, despite the fact that we did not baptize them, and they did not live in our
area. I think that forming a close relationship with missionaries other than the
ones who had taught and baptized them helped Pablo and Maribel transition
more smoothly into the branch. We were their friends until such a time as they
were able to form closer friendships among the members of the branch.
Despite losing so much time in meals, we still got in a good day’s work.
We taught the third charla to Teófila and company and the fifth to Nadia. Nadia
wants to postpone her baptism another week—but is animated enough to invite
her brothers and sisters to the service.
I went cow hunting today. I wanted a photo of me and a cow, but the cow
kept running away from me. I finally found a nice, placid cow who allowed a
photo.
Wednesday, June 4, 1997
I continue to love Huejutla with all my heart. Despite the heat, my soul
has been deeply touched by this little pueblito. We had a nice scripture-reading
with Teófila, Xochitl, and María. Parts of it were a little deep, but I think the two
main points will stick with them—the role of the Book of Mormon, and their
heritage as daughters of Joseph. This was the first time that I had ever read the
seventh chapter of Mormon with an investigator. In later areas, I would use this
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chapter frequently. It was a short chapter, the last that Mormon ever wrote, and
in it he addresses the latter-day descendents of the Lamanites. I figured that since
my mission was among these latter-day descendents, I should share with them the
final message and advice from that great prophet-historian.
I took my pants to a tailor, and am very pleased with the results. The three
pairs that I thought that I would have to abandon, have been saved. They should
last another year, at least. And it only costed me fifteen pesos (less than $2
American).
We taught the third charla to Yarazet (without a fellowshipper, oopsie!).
Yarazet’s brother and sister-in-law were members of the church, though less-
active at the time. By teaching Yarazet, we were not only trying to baptize her,
but to reactivate her family. Yarazet’s father has denied her request for baptism,
but we won't give up so soon. We don’t want to cause problems, either.
We won’t run into problems with Teófila’s husband. We met him tonight.
He’s a good egg. Ernesto drove one of the buses between Huejutla and the
nearby town of Huautla. Unlike many other Mexican men we had met, Ernesto
was not a jealous master. He recognized his wife’s right to choose her own
beliefs. Although we never baptized him, Ernesto was one of the most sincere,
loving, tolerant husbands I had ever met during my two- year mission in Mexico.
Thursday, June 5, 1997
As of today, I’ve taught 341 first charlas, 42 seconds, 18 thirds, 10 fourths,

6 fifths, and 2 sixths. What a year! The day was only average, though. We only
taught a handful of charlas, but we did have two family home evenings with
investigators. One was in the morning with Yarazet, the other was the ward social
at the Zuñigas’ house. We brought Teófila and one of her daughters with us.
After the lesson, I related a story that had the room rolling in laughter.
Some Sundays previous, I had left my BuBuLuBu to chill in the Zuñigas’
refrigerator. However, I forgot about my candy, and when I returned several
days later to retrieve it from the family fridge, I discovered that one of the Zuñiga
daughters had eaten my BuBuLuBu. She provided her side of the story, as well,
and the whole branch was laughing and having a good time. It felt good.
We had a Q&A session with Nadia, in which we resolved some of her
doubts. I had been trying for weeks to successfully reach Nadia. This evening we
cancelled our planned discussion, and instead, opened it up for Nadia to ask
questions. We used both Bible and Book of Mormon. I think we stayed true to
our message. We used the scriptures of the Restoration to teach the doctrines,
and the Bible to defend and sustain those doctrines. While this question-and-
answer forum helped Nadia to progress towards baptism, it did not help her to
progress towards conversion. I did everything I knew to do, I prayed for her,
taught her, gave her opportunity to opt out of baptism, but poor, beleaguered
Nadia did not want to disappoint anyone, least of all the missionaries. She
continued preparing for baptism, hiding from us her doubts, fears, and lack of
belief.
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Friday, June 6, 1997
I hit another low ebb today. My concentration broke, my thoughts

wandered to BYU, and poof! The spirit vanished. I need to refocus on the work
and my love for the people, and not on my overwhelming desire for a beef and
cheddar sandwich from Arby’s and a Reece’s Pieces blizzard from Dairy Queen.
We spent some time with Carolina today reviewing charlas one, two, and
three. She fed us pumpkin pie, papaya, and icees. It was rather pleasant.
Carolina was our most inert investigator. No matter how hard we tried to reach
her, she wouldn’t commit to baptism. She obeyed the rules, went to church, and
acted like a member in all other respects. I don’t know how many different
baptismal dates we set for her, but we always seemed to be perpetually planning
the service.
Carolina’s home was located at the far end of the Pista, near the road to
Parque de Poblamiento, and only a short walk from the Nieto Family. She and
her husband were in the twilight of their years. They kept a tidy garden, and
always offered us fresh fruit from their papaya and mango trees. Carolina always
had stories to tell of her son living in D.F. and of her daughter living in England.
Her husband, always very kind to us, refused to listen to the charlas. However,
he lived his religion. We could always count on him being at Mass on Wednesday
afternoons. Although we always had amicable relations with the two of them, I
found out later that the reason that Carolina would not commit to baptism was
because I had offended her during our first meeting. She was baptized later by
subsequent elders.
I received quite a shock today. While visiting Familia Zuñiga, Elder Avila
and I were left talking on their porch, which was located on the second story,
overlooking a street only two blocks from the Centro. High voltage wires passed
within arm’s length of the porch, and Elder Avila and I were debating whether or
not they were active. He insisted that had they been active, they would be covered
in rubber. Hesitantly, I extended my arm to give the power line a light tap with
my index finger. A sharp jolt immediately flung my arm back and filled my hand
with a sharp pain. Elder Avila thought I was faking it in order to win the debate.
No matter how much I protested, for the rest of our time together, he didn’t
believe that those power lines were active.
I think I’ll spend a couple of extra minutes in the scriptures tonight
looking for that lost spirit. We gave service at a local elementary school this
morning, painting hopscotch lines and numbers, and then planting trees. This was
the second week in a row in which we had given community service to the school
in our neighborhood. Later, we played hooky from the correlation meeting.
Despite the difficult day, I know that the sun also rises.
Saturday, June 7, 1997
In an effort to feel better, I started my day with some serious prayers and
scripture study. And…it worked. I didn’t have a fabulous day, but it was good.
First off, Elodia, who was sick on Thursday, diagnosed with typhoid yesterday,
289
was all better today. She was cooking and cleaning and smiling. The chronic
pain in Teófila’s shoulder hasn’t appeared in three days. Perhaps they aren’t
miracles, but both of these sisters received priesthood blessings under our hands
this week. This priesthood which I hold is so precious to me. I want to grow, and
develop, and serve. I read Alma 13 this morning, which turned my mind to the
importance of the priesthood.
While exploring the neighborhoods behind the new meetinghouse, Elder
Avila and I found two small pueblitos known as Coco Chico and Coco Grande.
From Coco Chico, we found a path that meandered over the demarcation between
the states of Hidalgo and Veracruz ( a tiny little stream) and into El Pintor on the
Veracruz side. I was excited to find this new trail to Pintor—over the river and
through the woods
We also drew water from a well and carried it across a cow pasture and up
a mountain. This was a bit of service for the Gomez family who lived a fair
distance from the nearest well. As the sun was setting over Huejutla’s western
hills, Elder Avila and I set off for the well. It was a beautiful evening walk,
winding down from the top of the hill where the Gomezes lived, across the verdant
pastures, and into the riparian seclusion of the river bottoms. After filling up four
buckets with water, we returned the way we had come. The Gomez family was
grateful for our aid, and we were grateful for the opportunity to serve.
Pretty slow, normal Sunday. I enjoyed it. The week as a whole was very
good to me. We had twenty-two charlas, and a good portion of those were
seconds and up. Today, instead of having Sunday School, we watched the
Sunday morning session of General Conference. It was groovy.
We tried to teach the fourth charla to Teófila today, but she wasn’t home;
she had to go to the doctor. I hope all is well. Elodia is doing fine, better than
ever. There’s just not a lot to say about today. I always find it hard to work
effectively on Sunday.
Yesterday, we taught a first charla to a thirteen-year-old boy, a member of
the local Evangelical congregation. Samuel was a very intelligent and thoughtful
young man but he thought he knew everything and tried to confound us with his
sophisticated knowledge. He asked questions about Joseph Smith and the
Masons, about Quetzalcoatl, and so forth. We answered his questions
satisfactorily, the Spirit bore witness that our words were true, yet Samuel refused
our message. Another Bible-worshipper complacent in his own viewpoint, afraid
to change.
People don’t understand that salvation is a life-long process, not a once-in-
a-lifetime event. This confusion is caused by a misunderstanding of grace. Grace
allows us to progress, it makes possible the end result. Without it, salvation
would not be possible. However, this end result is not a foregone conclusion the
minute we enter into a covenantal relationship with Christ. We still need to do
stuff to make His grace efficacious in our lives. If you fall down a pit, and
someone throws you a rope, it can be said that the grace of that someone saved
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BELONGING
you. However, just looking at the rope and believing in it isn’t going to save you.
You need to exert some effort. Even after entering into that covenantal
relationship, a person is expected to follow the example of the savior, keep the
commandments, and live a good life. Grace is the vehicle through which we our
saved, but Christ still expects us to step on the accelerator.
We did something a little different for P-Day. At 1:00 we went to San

Felipe and played basketball. It was rather fun. Lupita prepared a lunch for us,
and we had a picnic. I developed photos today; worst yield ever. I just don’t
have a lot of luck with photography.
I’ve decided to jettison my fiction books when I return, and try to live
more fully. I’m going to do genealogy, spend time doing things with my brothers.
I want to read still, but I’ll spend more time in the classics and in magazines like
National Geographic, the Ensign, and Newsweek. Of course, that’s still so
distant. I’ll just live today and serve my God with all my heart, might, mind, and
strength. Dang, I love this whole mission thing.
Extracts from a Letter to my Parents
“I’m optimistic about the future; I expect the next six months to be the best
ever. I have a year’s worth of experience behind me and enough time in front of me
that I won’t be trunky. Yep, I’m going to baptize the whole of Mexico before
Christmas. With the passing of Hump Day, I gave some thought to what life will be
like in a year. I came to a startling conclusion—I’m never going to return. Yeah, I’ll
come home, but everything will be different. All those friends who never write to
me anymore will no longer be as close as they once were. I really have sacrificed a
good part of my life.
“I think I’ve learned a lot of control in the past year. I’ve learned to control
my own attitude. Most of the times, I like to be happy and make people laugh. The
other day, Elodia asked me if I was always “tan feliz.” Some days, I lean towards the
sarcastic and irritable, and when I notice this happening, I always try to adjust. I’ve
learned that life is too short to spend it in that way. I want to always be a happy,
upbeat, positive person, even if I am a little asocial at times.”
I’ve got a killer pain in the left side of my chest, but I’m writing anyways.
<Insert violin music here.> We had a fairly average day, despite the constant
trouble I’ve been having trying to breathe. We intended to give service to
Teófila’s husband, Ernesto, this evening, but he wasn’t home. We were going to
help him paint their living room. This was typical of Ernesto, not because he was
rude, but because his job often obliged him to work later hours than he had
planned.
We found a dry-Mormon friend of Lupita’s who listened while we gave a
charla to Alain. She’s the older sister of a pair of investigators whom we were
291
about to drop. We had a good charla with her which may have saved her entire
family. It didn’t. None of them seemed interested in our message. The dry-
Mormon friend of Lupita was a nice support during the discussion. She defended
the church and bore her own (kind-of) testimony.
My companion really started annoying me today—I guess all good things
come to an end. Today he told me that guys may exhibit morning sickness when
the women are pregnant. Spiritual bond, he says.
Gosh darn it all to heck! The pain in my chest returned with intensified
fury tonight. I made the mistake of calling the mission home for advice. I would
have just toughed it out, but Elder Avila insisted that I call Sister Goodman.
While we had our differences, I can honestly say that we loved each other. Elder
Avila was always solicitous of my well-being, even when his best advice was to
burn incense and recite spiritual mantras. President and Sister Goodman want
me to come to Tampico again! I don’t want to go! I can’t lose another day, I hate
this.
To make the day even worse—we taught an evil seductress in the home of
a witch—no kidding. This was our final discussion with the family of flirtatious
teens. Not only did we discover that the mother of the family was very much into
witchcraft and the occult, but a family friend was visiting as well. This friend was
a very attractive young woman in a mini-skirt, who, when she sat down,
positioned herself directly in front of us with her knees spread wide. Her
temptations had no affect; Elder Avila is legally blind and I simply took my
glasses off and taught the charlas from memory. Not a fun experience. We never
visited that family again.
We walked a lot today. Visited some people. Had a correlation
meeting—this time it only started an hour late—and visited Nadia. I DON’T
want to go to Tampico again. I DON’T like doctors nor their craft.
We went to Tampico today. Visited Dr. Juarez (the guy’s a quack). He

says that I have a pulled muscle in my chest. I don’t believe him, but I’ll follow
his instruction. After all, I haven’t been to medical school (though I doubt if Dr.
Juarez has, either). In the years of experience I’ve gained since that time, I’ve
learned that the tightness in my chest that I felt that night was probably a really
bad case of heartburn or indigestion. I still experience it from time to time,
though It’s never been as bad as it was that June evening on the micro from
Parque de Poblamiento, when I doubled over in pain and struggled for breath.
The doctor says I’m still losing weight—I’ve got 159 lbs. Six months ago
I weighed in at 167. I’m not losing at a phenomenal rate—but a steady one,
nonetheless. I’ve lost 36 lbs. since leaving the MTC. When President and Sister
Goodman received the good doctor’s diagnosis, they rolled their eyes at me.
They only had me come up to Tampico because I was so recently sick. If they had
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BELONGING
known it was as simple as a “pulled muscle,” they would have left me in Huejutla
to suffer. Instead of staying the night in Tampico, as I had done my previous trip,
we returned immediately.
After returning from Tampico, Elder Avila and I swung by the home of
Hermana Consuelo where I got bit in the crotch by a Rottweiler—no kidding!
Her big scary dog, Candy, took a nip at my private parts, and nearly scared me
half to death. Elders Griffin and Bravo were there as well, and we all had a
laugh at my near-tragedy. After returning home, we discovered that we have no
water in the house again—we’ll bathe in buckets.
Yesterday we went to Huejutla’s municipal library. We gave them a Book
of Mormon. I’m learning a lot of give-and-take with my current comp. I’ve
learned a lot about leadership and stewardship. I know that just because I am a
leader doesn’t mean that I don’t have to take his feelings into consideration.
There are times when I still need to compromise.
Friday, June 13, 1997
We’re having problems planning Nadia’s baptism, but given a few

options, I thoughtfully chose one and prayed about it. This was my first big crisis
as senior companion. I approached the Lord, not with the idea that He should
give me an answer, but using the skills and intellect He had given me and
determining a proper course on my own. When I had made my decision, I asked
Him for confirmation. I feel calm and certain that it will work.
We’ll baptize her Monday night in Consuelo’s font. Now that we have no
chapel, baptisms will be a problem. Although we later borrowed the port-a-font
from the Tamazunchale branch for the duration of the chapel construction, this
was the first baptism in the branch since moving to the new meetinghouse and the
font from the nearby branch had not yet arrived.
I had my final interview with President Goodman today. We talked of the
difference between Communism and the law of consecration, how to be a fisher
of men, and not a few jokes, chuckles, and laughs. When interrupted by Elder
Harris, the President gave a brief reply, and concluded by saying, “now get out of
my hair.” I opened my mouth to comment on his lack of hair, but before I could
say anything, he read my mind, and told me “don’t even say it.” We both had a
good laugh at each other’s expense. President Goodman was impressed with my
proselyting stats—said they were good. I said they were just numbers. It’s still
nice to be appreciated. The heat was, as always, intense. My shirt was absolutely
soaked by mid-day.
Saturday, June 14, 1997
Elder Bravo came home with anti-Mormon literature today. It was a little
Jack Chick comic book called “the Visitors” and fabricated the visit of two
Mormon missionaries to a prepared and devout Protestant. The Mormons were,
of course, defeated and routed in the end. I can’t believe he spent 1.5 pesos on
the trash.
293
Today went fairly smoothly. We gave six charlas, but it’s not enough.
Our new goal is to teach a charla every hour—it can be done—we just need to
bust our butts to accomplish it. I don’t feel like I have as much control over my
area as I did a few weeks ago. Things seem to be falling apart and I’m trying
desperately to keep them together. Teófila’s new job makes it impossible to find
her at home, Yarazet is planning a big Catholic Quinceñera, which is a big,
traditional fifteenth birthday party involving mass, confirmation, confession, and
other Catholic coming of age rites. She knew that the Book of Mormon was true,
wanted to be baptized, but she also wanted to have her Quinceñera first. Nadia
still seems hesitant and shy, and I’m running into another drought on second
charlas. Well, He never said it would be easy, He only said it would be worth it.
I really gave it my all today—and I think we did okay. Normally, Sundays

are very lazy, but we overcame those natural tendencies and actually worked. We
had a fairly low attendance in our meetings, only two investigators and two less-
actives. Today being Father’s Day, the Primary presented a small program—it
was cute, albeit disorganized. Elodia bought a cake and we all had some.
Yadira, the less-active sister-in-law of Yarazet, was very helpful with
everything. We’ve really progressed a lot with her. It used to be that she
wouldn’t even give us the time of day, now she’s participating actively in the
church. I think it helps that we are teaching her sister-in-law Yarazet. Teófila has
me a little disanimated. She’s never home anymore, we haven’t taught her a
charla in some ten days! I’m afraid that we’ve lost her. Nadia will be baptized on
Thursday. I’m getting a little tired of postponing it forever.
The week was okay—even though we lost some time in Tampico and
interviews. I’m very tired, but happy. This is my first repeat holiday in the
mission. Next Father’s Day I’ll be home. I actually spent one more Father’s Day
in the mission field, and a year later, I was on my two-week journey through
Mexico when the holiday rolled around again. I spent four consecutive Father’s
Days away from home.
I have so little time and so much to do in Huejutla de Reyes. I don’t ever
want to leave, but I am afraid I might get transferred tomorrow. I love these
people—Elodia, Susi and Mimi; the Monterubio family; Lupita and kids; Maribel,
Pablo, David, and Jade Quetzal; Carolina; Rut and Naftali Gomez and their kids;
and well, the list goes on and on. Who knows what the future will hold—yet it
beckons to me. I’ll follow where she leads.
Well, I didn’t get transferred. It was probably all those visions and
aspirations of leadership that flashed through my head after receiving such high
praise during my interview with the president that kept me from leaving. I
thought I had overcome that pat of my nature—my aspirations to positions of
leadership. I could be truly happy as a junior or senior comp, if I didn’t think
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BELONGING
other were expecting more from me. I feel like if I’m never a zone leader, no one
will believe that I was a good missionary.
Rumors say Elder Jorgensen will be the zone leader of the newly formed
Tempoal Zone. He has less time in the mission than I, and the same amount of
time as senior comp. That’s fine with me—I’m happy where I am. The Tempoal
zone was formed from the Tempoal and Tantayuca districts. Elder Jorgenson did
become the zone leader of the fledgling zone, and in later months, would be called
as Assistant to the President. During this epoch, President Goodman was
experimenting with smaller zones, a trend that would continue during the initial
months of President Gillespie’s administration.
It was an ordinary P-Day. We ate fish for lunch. My comp got slightly
sick, and I don’t blame him. Hermana Lupita threw the entire fish into our bowls
of soup—head, eyeballs, and the whole shebang. It made me slightly ill to be
eating something that seemed to be staring back at me from the murky depths of
my bowl of soup.
I love this whole mission thing. We had another wonderful day. We

taught a grip of first charlas—half of which yielded new families, the other half,
return appointments. We went into the little-worked areas of our mission—Rojo
Gomez, Rojo Lugo, and Coco Chico.
In the evening, I had another split with Elder Bravo so that we could get
some baptismal interviews. We finally committed the Nieto family to baptism,
even though Virginia was a little stubborn. Because she insisted that she had
already received baptism by immersion in her church, she saw no reason to do
submit to the ordinance again in our church. Her mother overrode her
objections, and insisted that the two of them would be baptized in a few weeks. I
knew that I had some work yet to do with Virginia, but I was also grateful that we
had them back in the teaching pool.
We finally found Teófila, and she still wants to listen to the charlas. We’d
been having an extremely difficult time finding her at home. Her new job, at a
hair salon in the Centro, kept her away from home for the majority of the day.
When we found her today, she renewed her desire to learn about the restored
gospel and be baptized. It’s lifted my spirit to new heights.
We had a very frank talk with Mateo, the eldest of the Gomez clan—he
wants a couple of days to think about baptism and the like. I love what I’m
doing—even though I am missing the new summer blockbusters like Lost World
and Hercules.
Another good day. I realized how much I love my companion. I’m glad
that we’ll be together for another couple of weeks. We work well as a team, we
laugh and have a good time. We still have rocky moments, but for the most part,
we’re best friends.
295
We are continuing to teach more charlas and find new people. At the
same time, we’re trying to juggle our teaching and baptizing pools. We are to
baptize Nadia tomorrow, but we’re still unsure where we are going to do it at.
Nadia seems ready for the Big Commitment. I hope it all goes well tomorrow.
Elder Avila went on a split with Elder Griffin a few days previous, and
reported back to me that Elder Griffin had a very laid-back teaching style. He
then expressed to me that he preferred my style, which he thought was more
exciting, interesting, and engaging.
What an absolutely wonderful day! It didn’t start that way. I was sick—I
had a migraine in the morning. I took the pills Dr. Hardy prescribed, but they
only made me nauseous. Elder Griffin and Avila went to work in my area. After
lunch, I was feeling a little bit better, so Elder Bravo and I walked over to
Hermana Consuelo’s home where we cleaned her font. Some of the nicer homes
in Mexico contained a font for the collection of rainwater, in case water service
ceased to work, as happened to us a couple of times. We emptied the font of the
old rainwater, and filled it again with Consuelo’s garden hose. It was a slow
process, and we only had time to get the water depth at just above my kneecaps.
At 7:00 p.m. we baptized Nadia Yazmin Hernandez Franco. Joy!
Happiness! Rapture! Exuberance! And to top it off, we taught the fourth charla
to Teófila and the first to her husband. They told us that they all want to join the
church, that they feel a new tranquility in their lives. Teófila’s shoulder doesn’t
hurt anymore, and oh, how my joy is full. We had a kneeling prayer with the
whole family. Today could not have been better. We’re going to work hard to
help integrate Nadia into the branch family.
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BELONGING
Elder Barrett drawing water from a well
Elder Barrett, Luis, Elodia, Susanna, and Noemi (Mimi)
297
Elder Barrett trying to befriend a herd of cows
Elder Barrett posing with a skinny cow
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Chapter Eleven: Belonging

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Chapter Eleven: Belonging

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Chapter Eleven

Tuesday, May 6, 1997

We woke up at 4:30 to catch an early bus to Tampico. The companion

Wednesday, May 7, 1997

Thursday, May 8, 1997

Friday, May 9, 1997

Saturday, May 10, 1997

We started the day with a morning of service. We cleaned the new

Sunday, May 11, 1997

Monday, May 12, 1997

Tuesday, May 13, 1997

Wednesday, May 14, 1997

Thursday, May 15, 1997

Friday, May 16, 1997

Saturday, May 17, 1997

I went to Wal-Mart this morning; it was a very American experience. We

Sunday, May 18, 1997

Monday, May 19, 1997

Great little P-Day. We went to “downtown” Huejutla to pay the water,

Despite the stereotype, I only played basketball a handful of times while on my

Tuesday, May 20, 1997

Wednesday, May 21, 1997

A very well-balanced day. We ended with five charlas, three of them

Thursday, May 22, 1997

Friday, May 23, 1997

Saturday, May 24, 1997

I received a birthday present from Lucero Aradíaz. She, like Yolanda

Sunday, May 25, 1997

I had some eye-opening experiences today. In the evening, we helped

Monday, May 26, 1997

Extracts from a Letter to my Parents

Tuesday, May 27, 1997

Wednesday, May 28, 1997

One of the greatest days of my mission—despite a correlation meeting that

Thursday, May 29, 1997

Friday, May 30, 1997

Saturday, May 31, 1997

Sunday, June 1, 1997

Monday, June 2, 1997

Tuesday, June 3, 1997

I don’t know why all the weirdoes are in my area. We contacted a

Wednesday, June 4, 1997

Thursday, June 5, 1997

As of today, I’ve taught 341 first charlas, 42 seconds, 18 thirds, 10 fourths,

Friday, June 6, 1997

I hit another low ebb today. My concentration broke, my thoughts

Saturday, June 7, 1997

Sunday, June 8, 1997

Monday, June 9, 1997

We did something a little different for P-Day. At 1:00 we went to San

Extracts from a Letter to my Parents

Tuesday, June 10, 1997

Wednesday, June 11, 1997

Thursday, June 12, 1997

We went to Tampico today. Visited Dr. Juarez (the guy’s a quack). He

Friday, June 13, 1997

We’re having problems planning Nadia’s baptism, but given a few

Saturday, June 14, 1997

Sunday, June 15, 1997

I really gave it my all today—and I think we did okay. Normally, Sundays

Monday, June 16, 1997

Tuesday, June 17, 1997