Chapter Sixteen

Spirit of Truth

Dark clouds loomed overhead as I deboarded the bus in Panuco. I had gotten a
later start than I had wanted that morning, and now I only had a brief afternoon to spend
in this northern Veracruz town. To make matters worse, it looked like an afternoon rain
shower would dampen my visit. I took a deep, moisture-laden breath, and walked
towards downtown Panuco. The Capilla de San Esteben, painted in a comforting pastel
pink, greeted me as I crossed the plaza. From there, I passed the supermarket Modelos,
where I had done all my shopping, the Michoacana ice cream store that I had frequented
with Elder Jenson, and the residential streets with Panuco’s unique five-way
intersections. Since my time was limited, a visit with Luz and Julio was my highest
priority.
I had met the couple during my second tour of duty in Panuco. They were still
recent converts to the Church, and were still full of the excitement and optimism that
accompanies true conversion. My companion and I had grown close to them, despite the
fact that they did not live in our area. This had never stopped Elder Avila and I from
befriending the Pablo and Maribel in Huejutla, and it did not prevent Elder Jenson and I
from visiting frequently in the home of Luz and Julio.
It was during one of these visits that Luz had related to us the circumstances of
their conversion. They had met the missionaries while shopping in the Centro one day.
They made an appointment, and later in the week, received the elders with graciousness
and respect. They listened to the message, felt the spirit, and soon thereafter decided to
be baptized. At first, theirs was a textbook perfect example of a young couple choosing
to join the church. Such stories as theirs were often told in the MTC to motivate green
and inexperienced missionaries.
Hidden from the missionaries’ view, though, was a quiet but steady decay in their
marriage. They had been wed at a young age, and now, five years later, the problems of
real life were straining their once-strong relationship. In prayer, Luz had pleaded with
her father in Heaven to heal the growing rift. And then the missionaries had come into
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their lives. She and her husband had grown closer; together they had conquered life’s
daunting challenges, even taking strength from the hardships incident to Julio’s brief
hospitalization in Tampico.
And then, only a week from their scheduled baptism, Luz lost all her desire to be
baptized. She skipped out on an appointment with the missionaries, leaving instead a
note asking them to never return. After hearing the fifth discussion from the
missionaries, she had decided that it would be impossible to turn her back on the faith
taught to her by her mother. She could not give up her veneration of the Virgin, nor take
down the small family shrine honoring the mother of the Son of God. Such sacrifice as
the missionaries demanded was not possible.
The night after she had asked the missionaries to stop visiting, she had a dream.
In it, she saw a road filled with obstacles. She begged and pleaded for someone to
remove the obstacles from her path. In answer to her pleadings, she heard a voice
explain, “you asked for My help, and then you rejected it. I opened the door, and then
you closed it.” With tears in her eyes, she awoke and realized that she had erred in
sending the missionaries away.
The following Sunday, she and her husband went to the church services and told
the missionaries that they were now ready to be baptized. Since that time, they had never
looked back, and had only grown stronger in their conviction and faith, stronger in their
devotion to each other. In later years, when I sat down to visit and a reminisce about old
times, I learned that Julio was serving as elder’s quorum president, and Luz was in the
primary presidency. After six years of trying, she was finally expecting their first child.
Luz and Julio had been blessed by the Lord. The missionaries, by their efforts
alone could not have been able to bring this wonderful family into the church. It was
only through the whisperings of the spirit, through the couple’s willingness to open their
hearts, and a little push from on high, that Luz and Julio were able to receive the joys of
gospel living.
And such is the case with missionary work throughout the world. It is only
through the spirit’s whisperings that individuals and families are able to find the strength
to follow the Master. I found my greatest success as a missionary when I finally
recognized my weaknesses, and instead of brining all of my limited wisdom and learning
to the teaching process, I chose instead to simply testify of the Gospel’s power and
truthfulness.

Tuesday, December 16, 1997

Here I am in Panuco once again. I’m in the same house as before and
everything. My return to Panuco was less than triumphal. Had my previous tour
of duty here lasted longer than a handful of weeks, then perhaps seeing Panuco
again would have moved me more. I was excited about once more living in the
Panuco house; with its flat and accessible roof, I looked forward to spending
some more time gazing at the night sky. I was glad to see, however, that the
elders since my previous visit had moved the mattresses back to their respective
bedrooms and the living room was once more a living room.
I’ve been paired up with Elder Jenson, from Richfield, Utah, a small rural
community. He’s my first gringo comp and I’m excited about working with him.
Once again, the President transferred both my companion and I into a new area,

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hoping that a clean slate might help the area to restart itself effectively. Although
the previous elders had left us with a handful of investigators, Elder Jenson and I
weren’t even sure exactly where our area was, let alone the names and addresses
of those investigators. My second tour of duty in Panuco found me working in the
same branch that I had been in during my previous brief stay, though now I was
assigned to the eastern half of that branch, instead of the western, where I had
once worked with Elder Bautista.
After we had moved in, I went out working with Elder Perez and got to
know my area. Elder Perez had been working the western area for the last six
weeks, and had been on several splits with the previous district leader, many of
them into the eastern half of the branch. He knew some of the investigators, as
well as most of the members. I was able to take note of where our investigators
and new members lived, and I also took note of which barrios and colonias
seemed to have been overlooked by the previous team of missionaries.
The transfer news was, as always, of great interest to me. Elder Burch has
returned to Matamoros as a zone leader. He even returned to the same ward and
the same house in which he and I had lived and worked together. Elder Ramos
went to Soto la Marina. His comp is Elder Taylor, his district leader is Elder
Watkins, and zone leader is Elder Felley. I thought it quite interesting that all of
his file leaders, including Elder Fister, the AP, were elders from my MTC district.
Elder Camaal is now a district leader in Madero, taking the place of Elder Smith,
who in turn took my place in Barrio Independencia. Elder Plott is senior comp.
Hermana Martinez is also senior and trainer. Elder Rule is district leader in
Ampliación, and Elder Shaw went to Tantayuca, finally leaving the offices after
nearly nine months as financial secretary. I love transfers and all the mission
gossip.
It’s nice to be back in Panuco and have a second chance at it. It was here
that I first learned to be lazy. I hope to redeem myself and kick some butt.

Wednesday, December 17, 1997

We got our goals accomplished and are beginning to lay some solid
groundwork for future baptisms in Panuco. We’ve almost got no members in my
area—they all live in the area of Elders Perez and Acosta. While not entirely true,
it was a fact that none of the branch leadership lived in our area. Elder Jenson
and I, instead of being disheartened by the prospect before us, took a more
positive view. Our new area seemed to be a vast tract of untapped potential. We
went to a Relief Society meeting with the hopes of meeting the members, but
none of them lived in our area. I did meet up again with Betsy—an old Captain
Allen convert I met when I was here last April. She was still serving in the
Primary presidency.
The town of Panuco was divided into two branches. The Panuco Second
branch served the spiritual needs of the people in the southern half of the town.
Our area was divided by Venustiano Carranza, a major street which came south
out of the main plaza, and then one mile later, made a ninety degree turn to the

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west, and from there led out of town to Ebano and Tempoal. The other elders
worked the area inside the dogleg formed by Carranza (to the north and west).
Elder Jenson and I worked the areas outside the dogleg formed by
Venustiano Carranza. Our area was, in effect, two separate mini-areas. The first
mini-area was located on the east side of Carranza and was a mish-mash of a
multitude of colonias that stretched to the river. The other mini-area was located
south of Carranza and consisted of mostly rural areas on the edges of the local
sugar cane fields.
The day was long, but we are making progress. I’m looking at things I did
with Elders Jimenez, Monroy, Avila, and Ramos that brought us success. In each
of those companionships, I had a similar situation to work with—laboring in a
new area with a companion who was also new to the area. It was always a
difficult task. In trying to seamlessly continue the efforts of the previous elders,
some investigators were invariably lost. This happened to Elder Ramos and I in
Madero, and I expected the same to occur in Panuco. However, at the same time
we were exerting our efforts in not losing the few investigators we had inherited,
we were also building our own teaching pool from the ground up. I know the
field is white, all ready to harvest.
Elder Jenson is pretty cool, but ask me again after the “honeymoon.” The
first weeks of any companionship are always agreeable, as both parties try their
hardest to cooperate and be pleasant. It was only after working with Elder
Jenson for several months that I was able to definitively label him as one of my
favorite companions. He had spent the early months of his mission in Cincinnati,
waiting for the Mexican government’s permission to enter the country as a
missionary. Thus, he had experience in working in both stateside and foreign
missions. He knew how to set and achieve goals, and he knew how to work hard.
After his jaunt with me in Panuco, he was transferred to Matamoros, where he
was a senior companion, and shortly thereafter, he was called to be a zone
leader. He finished his mission as an assistant to the president.

Thursday, December 18, 1997

There’s just something about Panuco that invites head wounds. I still have
vivid memories of the concrete porch that cracked my head during my first tour of
duty in Panuco. My second tour of duty also began with a similar accident.
Tonight we were walking home and I clothes-lined myself on a guide wire that I
didn’t quite see. The wire was supporting an electrical pole, and in the dark, I
saw the pole but not the wire. It cut a shallow scratch across the bridge of my
nose and it bled a great deal. When all was said and done, I smiled ruefully at my
own clumsiness.
Other than that, the day was fine. We gave service in the morning to
Familia Soto. It was nice to see this family again, although it would have been
more meaningful had I actually spent a significant amount of time in Panuco
before. Hermana Soto was still the branch Relief Society president, and she lived
in the western extremes of Panuco. Her home had a fantastic view of the flat,
endless plains and fields that stretched to the horizon west of our little pueblo.

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Elder Bautista and I had visited in her home frequently, giving service, eating
lunch, or just chatting away a hot afternoon. While it was nice to return to her
home, I had not had the chance to form any emotional connection with the family.
We went to work in the afternoon and achieved our goals. The Lord is
blessing me. Not quite as much as He did two weeks ago, but we’re getting there.
A little disobedience goes a long way in hurting our efficiency.

Friday, December 19, 1997

I was sick with a terrible cold all day, but despite the fact that we lost three
and a half hours on my sick bed, we still achieved our goals. I was a little
disappointed that I had not remained in Madero long enough to see the fruits of
my new goal-focused approach to missionary work, but I had faith that if I kept
working hard, setting challenging goals for myself and my companion, that the
Lord would bless us. While we had to use numbers to measure our goals, they
were not the reason for the goals themselves. We wanted to demonstrate to the
Lord our willingness to work hard on His behalf; by so doing, we had faith that
the Lord would do His own work through us.
I miss working with a Mexican companion. It’s very difficult having to
depend on my Spanish skills to get us through each contact. While I trusted Elder
Jenson’s wisdom and advice, I could not rely on him to the same degree that I had
relied on Elders Avila and Ramos. They had been able to step into any discussion
or argument with much needed linguistic support. In Elder Jenson, I had a
companion whose language skills were still developing, and we therefore had to
depend on my Spanish skills in any given interaction with contacts, investigators,
or members.
I have a lot of goals for this area, and I need to find a place to start. Our
area book is very well organized, but it’s not updated in parts. Before this time,
the area book was an oft-neglected record. President Gillespie encouraged the
missionaries to make the area book a priority in our companionship inventories.
This three-ring binder contained information sheets for every new investigator
that ever listened to a discussion in the area. Thus, if an investigator decided to
stop taking the charlas, missionaries six to twelve months later could return to the
family and try teaching them anew. The area book was also of great aid in
finding less-actives and new converts. I’m excited about the challenge.
We taught the fourth charla to an investigator that turned out fairly good.
Her name was Clara, and she lived in Colonia Carranza, one of the sparsely
settled colonias south of Calle Carranza. While we had inherited Clara and her
husband from the previous companionship, Elder Jenson and I quickly worked
our way through her immediate family. Within a month, we were also teaching
Clara’s mother, sister, and cousin. We had some eventual success with this
family, though the rate of return was low, compared to the amount of love and
labor we invested in them. We’re having a fairly average week, though I hope to
lift us up to new heights in the coming weeks and months.

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Saturday, December 20, 1997

I added “God Speed the Right” to my small repertoire of hymns that I can
play on the piano. I can play the right hand of “Come, Follow Me” as well.
Thanks to Elder Ramos, I’ve learned a great deal in the last month. The piano is
becoming less foreign. My erstwhile companion, after church one day in Madero,
showed me what a C-note looked like on the printed page, and showed me the
corresponding key on the piano. From there, working on my own, I was able to
figure out which notes corresponded to which keys, and began teaching myself
how to play the piano. On this particular Saturday, we were at the chapel for a
correlation meeting. I became restless and bored waiting for the branch
president to arrive, so I sat myself on the piano bench and attempted to play some
music while we waited for the meeting to start.
As far as the work goes, we’re progressing. We’re having the same
problem as always—no seguimiento, no follow-up charlas. We’re teaching a lot
of first charlas, but slow in the second charlas. I love my district, but I’m afraid
that I’ll fall in the same way that I fell as a leader in the MTC. I hope I’ve learned
a little since then. This was the first time, since the MTC, that I was living in the
same house as those I was called upon to lead. Being a district leaders over
sisters is easy; they did not get to see my imperfections up close like my
housemates in Panuco did. For example, we found a Jell-O No-Bake cheesecake
in the house. I insisted that we save it for a special occasion, that we bake it and
eat it for Christmas Eve. The other elders saw no reason to wait, and a small
(and stupid) argument ensued. I eventually gave in, and made the blasted
cheesecake a few days later.
We shared the apartment with Elders Perez and Acosta. The two were an
odd couple. Where Perez was lightly built, his companion was heavy and
muscular. Perez, the senior companion was serious and focused; Acosta was
jovial and fun-loving. I had a better relationship with Elder Acosta than I did
with Elder Perez, with whom I was only able to establish a mutual trust and
respect. Eventually, I learned to work with these elders, teach them, and bond
with them, despite the difficult moments that tested and tried my leadership
abilities.

Sunday, December 21, 1997

We had branch conference today. I found myself looking forward to the

Piney Creek Ward seven months from now. My problem with sacrament
meetings in Mexico is twofold. First, the leadership is inexperienced in leading
and organizing church meetings—the most experienced have ten or twelve years
as members of the church. Second, I find myself constantly fretting about my
investigators and new converts, worrying about whether or not they are enjoying
themselves, feeling the spirit, or feeling welcomed by the branch family. In any
given sacrament meeting, I would constantly worry about every detail, hoping
and praying that no one would say anything embarrassing or offensive to my
investigators. Empathy, I found, could be a two-edged sword. It’ll be such a

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relief when I can attend a functioning, vital ward without having to worry about
the small details and the comfort of visitors.
At the end of our first week in Panuco, my companion and I sat down and
talked through our goals and aspirations for the area. We discussed the tactics
and strategies we would use to accomplish these goals, and we then focused on
the activities we would engage in during the coming week. In short, Elder Jenson
and I had an excellent dialogo de acuerdo. Although there were some drawbacks
to having an American companion, I loved being able to communicate and
connect more fully than I had ever been able to do with my Mexican companions.
After the dialogo de acuerdo, I spent some time pondering my role as a
district leader in this small Mexican town. I knew that through our example,
Elder Jenson and I have got to bring some life to this district.

Monday, December 22, 1997

It’s getting easier to add songs to my piano library. I learned “Praise to

the Man,” “Sweet Hour of Prayer,” and “Choose the Right.” All this occurred as
Elder Jenson and the other missionaries from Panuco played basketball with the
district president on the court outside. Never being much inclined towards sports
and physical activity in general, I opted to spend my time in the chapel teaching
myself new hymns on the piano. I just need to learn how to play sharps and flats,
improve my technique, and learn the left hand. A month ago, this would have
seemed impossible to me.
Tonight, I gave in, and we made the cheesecake two days earlier than I
had previously insisted. It was something that I haven’t done since my BYU
days; back then I had made a cheesecake to celebrate the end of each of my two
freshman semesters. We’ll eat it in half an hour, after it has had time to
sufficiently cool in our refrigerator.
I washed my clothes by hand, but used “Lirio” soap. The stuff is
miraculous. It cut my working time down to an hour. By improving my hand-
washing technique, and discovering the miracles of lye soap, I finally decided that
doing laundry by hand was not a terribly onerous a task. However, I still took my
shirts and pants to a sister in the branch, who for a small fee, washed those
clothes for us. I was thus left with the task of cleaning my own undergarments.
My district meeting was fine. We talked about goals and I gave my
standard capacitation on how to use the scriptures. I had first given the training in
San Felipe, wherein I emphasized the importance of using the scriptures of the
restoration to teach the message of the restoration. I seem to have a set of talks
and sermons that can be used over every time I enter a new area. Besides this
standard training that I used, I also had two sacrament meeting talks which I
recycled every time I entered a new area. The first of those talks was one I had
been carrying around with me since the Branch Conference in Soto la Marina. I
love my new companion. We’re going to rock Panuco.
This evening, Elder Jenson and I began a tradition that lasted for the
whole of our companionship. After the district meeting, as we walked back to our
area to check up on investigators, we passed by a Michoacana ice cream shop.

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We stopped in and we each bought a small cup of ice cream. The young lady
behind the counter was very friendly, and as the weeks went on, and as she
became accustomed to our Monday evening ice cream stops, the scoops she
served us grew larger and larger. Every week we tried out a different flavor, and
then had to start recycling through our favorites. This weekly tradition is one of
the happiest memories I have of my time together with Elder Jenson.

Tuesday, December 23, 1997

This is supposed to be the toughest week for charlas and contacts. The
work was always a little slow during the Yuletide season. Most of that was due to
the fact that nobody wanted to talk to missionaries when they were so busy with a
plethora of other holiday activities. However, another part of the reason for the
annual Christmas slowdown was our own reluctance to work during the holidays.
Homesickness was at it sharpest during December, and so the desire to make
every day count was much more difficult to summon.
Notwithstanding and nevertheless, Elder Jenson and I had a fairly good
day. We achieved our goals and then went to the branch Christmas party. We
had agreed earlier that morning that we would keep working until we had
accomplished our daily goals, after which we would allow ourselves to mingle
with the members at that evening’s activity. While Elder Jenson mingled,
however, while I went to the empty chapel and practiced the piano. I quickly grew
bored with that, and I went and drove the piñata for the primary kids. It was fun,
and relatively light work, to yank the rope from which the piñata was suspended.
Apparently, between now and the last time I had been in Panuco, the branch
president had reversed himself on his previous “no piñata at the chapel” rule.
I participated in a small skit, a choir, and played Santa Claus with a bunch
of balloons that I had brought. The balloons, in retrospect, were a bad idea. I
only wanted to bring some sunshine to the evening, by blowing up balloons and
giving them to the little kids in the branch. However, I was harassed by two or
three under-disciplined children, who kept trying to steal the package of balloons
from out of my pockets.
I also received a bunch of letters. One was from Ady (she’s going on her
mission to Moscow!). I also got one from good ole Juan Carlos Ramos, my
former companion from my Matamoros day. He was one of the best companions I
had ever worked with. What a stud.

Wednesday, December 24, 1997

It’s Christmas Eve, and I’m stuck in a podunk Mexican town watching
second-class church movies in Spanish. A little self-pity to brighten the Yule
season. We borrowed a TV from a member, hooked up a VCR, and watched the
newly released Old Testament Media Videos. I was bored out of my mind, and
wishing I was home for the holidays.
I think the highlight of my day was our visit to the Olmec head at the
western border of my area. Our concentration broke, and halfway through the

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day, we just gave it up as a lost cause. The President had issued a warning to the
elders to be home by seven that evening, and it’s twice as hard to maintain
momentum on a day when you know you’ll be packing it in early. Instead, we did
some sightseeing that had been on our to-do list for some time. It was real fun—
we took photos.
We tried to contact, gave a few charlas, and developed photos. I suppose
a year from now I’ll be heading back to the Y! This morning I spent some time
trying to track down a good Provo apartment using information sent to me by
friends. I needn’t have worried. I still had plenty of time. I’ll send info on to the
home front and see if I can find a place to live. I haven’t felt very Christmassy. It
may be due to the lack of anything Christmas-like. Last year was different.
Matamoros was different. Matamoros in December was chilly, and people
followed more Americanized traditions—Christmas lights, Christmas trees, and
Christmas carols. Panuco is hotter and less American.

Thursday, December 25, 1997

It’s not that today was a bad day, it just could have been a whole lot better.
We left the house at 8:30; my comp was going to call his family at 9:00 and then I
would call mine at 11:00. When we arrived at our zone leader’s house where we
were to receive the phone calls, we learned instead that his phone had been cut.
Elder Carrillo had forgotten to pay the phone bill that month, and thus had no
phone service on Christmas Day.
We spent a half hour looking for the district president, who gave us keys
to his office so we could call from there. We still had to wait because Alicia was
calling her missionary son. I had an enjoyable talk with my family, though it was
considerably shorter than it had been the previous year.
We went to work, but only nominally. Most of our visits were to members
and already established investigators. The only member that offered us anything
to eat gave us something real gross. They had no electricity, so we couldn’t see
what we were eating, but I smuggled a piece out in my napkin. When we found a
streetlight we opened it to find a pig’s tongue. I related this story to President
Gillespie the next day, and he laughed, not because he sympathized with us, but
because he had grown up on a farm and had always considered that particular
cut of meat to be a delicacy.

Friday, December 26, 1997

We had interviews with Pappy G this morning. It was rather brief and
mundane. The surprise was that I received two packages—one from my parents,
and one from my ward. My parents included some tapes with Christmas music
and now that Christmas has passed I’m feeling pretty Christmassy. The tapes also
included a few John Denver songs, which have since become some of my favorite
tunes. One of them, “Some Days are Diamonds” meant a lot to me as I labored
in Panuco. I knew that some days are diamonds, but others are stone; some times

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the cold wind puts a chill in my bone. I just have to keep on working through the
bad in order to get to the good.
We worked hard, harder than any other day this week, which, considering
how little we had worked that whole week, was not saying much at all. We finally
invited Olivia to baptism, which she accepted, but she’s got so many personal
problems that we’ll have to struggle a bit to bring her to the font. Olivia was the
sister of an investigator that we had contacted earlier in the week. She was seven
months pregnant from her husband, whom she did not live with. Her live-in
boyfriend didn’t seem to object with her sexual liaisons, but we shook our head in
frustration, knowing that the situation did not bode well for our desires to see
Olivia in the baptismal font.
My parents sent me a book of word puzzles and games that I’ve been
enjoying thoroughly. It’s a bloody shame that the packages didn’t come before
Christmas to give me that boost of Christmas cheer that I needed so much.
During my interview, President Gillespie informed me of my release date. It’s
official, I go home July 1, 1998. Not that I’m counting. The date was later
changed, because Salt Lake changed the length of our transfer cycles. Instead of
receiving new elders (and shuttling the old ones home) every six weeks, the time
was reduced to every four weeks.

Saturday, December 27, 1997

It was one of those days to be dreamed of. We finished off with eight
charlas—two new families and three charlas of seguimiento. After talking with
the Prez the previous day, my comp and I decided to work the calculations. We
figured that I only have 185 days left to me. Now I now know that my days are
numbered. I’ve got to make them all count.
I remember back in Huejutla, Elder Avila and I worked real hard and came
up with ten baptisms. Elder Jenson and I are working even harder than that. I
never worked with more fervor and dedication than I did during those days in
Panuco with Elder Jenson. Even during my last four months, when I was
baptizing every week, I wasn’t putting nearly as much effort into every single day
as Elder Jenson and I did in Panuco. I know that the Lord will bless us.
Today our asesora made us hamburgers—with beef, cheese, lettuce, ham,
avocado and tomato. The Asesora Program was an alternative to the traditional
lunch appointment. Instead of having various sisters volunteer to feed the
missionaries, only one sister in the ward or branch would be paid to do it. This
sister not only prepared our midday meals, but also bought our groceries for us.
Consequently, we received less for our living allowance than we would if we were
still using the traditional method.
The theory behind the Asesora Program was to implement a system in
which the nutritional needs of the missionaries would be more carefully
monitored. A single sister would be better equipped to provide us with a
balanced diet than would five or ten or twenty sisters. However, the only asesora
I met that actually planned healthy and nutritional meals was Hermana Lupita in
Huejutla. I didn’t like this new system, preferring instead to get to know the ward

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by eating with various ward members. Then again, when the chosen Asesora was
a fabulous cook, as was Alicia in Panuco, I could easily forgive the program’s
other shortcomings. The hamburgers that day were absolutely dreamy, albeit a bit
messy.
When we had first arrived in Panuco, Elder Jenson and I noticed that
every day after lunch, a small black and white dog would follow us for several
hours, sometimes even sitting at our feet while we taught charlas on people’s
patios. We had no idea who this dog belonged to, or why it would follow us.
Finally, well into our second week, we learned that the dog’s name was Willie,
and he belonged to Alicia, our asesora. With that key bit of understanding, we
were content to allow him to follow us forever.

Sunday, December 28, 1997

Today we dined on hot dogs. They were wrapped in ham, placed in a bun
on top of tomatoes and mayonnaise, and topped with shredded carrots. If there is
anything better than a Mexican hamburger, it is a Mexican hot dog. Their non-
traditional condiments leant them an exotic air, and they were dang tasty. So
tasty, in fact, that I ate five.
I had a lot of fun in church today. I directed the hymns, and was then
drafted into the teenagers’ Sunday School to be their teacher. I had a good time
teaching and talking about goals. I figured that the end of one year and the
beginning of the next provided an excellent context for me to foist my newfound
passion for goal-making onto the youth of Panuco. We all had a good time, and I
was pleased that the spirit was present to edify and instruct.
In priesthood, I had to instruct the branch president on proper priesthood
protocols. I just about took over control of his class. Martin, a new convert, was
being ordained to the Aaronic Priesthood, and I suggested to the branch
president that it would be a good idea to allow Julio, a newly ordained priest, to
stand in the circle. I then explained that by doing so, the person doing the
ordination, in this case the branch president himself, had two options. He could
either say “we ordain by the authority of the Aaronic Priesthood” or “I ordain by
the authority of the Melchizedek.” This was proper, since not every person
standing in the circle was a holder of the Melchizedek Priesthood. I had been
trying so hard not to be respectful and deferential to the branch president, not
wanting to lose his critical support. I think I was able to impart this bit of
instruction without being condescending or rude. The other elders in my district
thought I was pretty cool.
We got in a good afternoon of proselyting. Actually, one of my most
effective Sundays. We ended with a well-organized, well-done dialogo de
acuerdo. I’m really feeling good about this whole mission thing. I love it!

Monday, December 29, 1997

Great little P-Day. I spent some time on the piano this morning, while my
comp played basketball. I’m on my way to understanding sharps and flats. My

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companion had come inside searching for a drink of water, and found me in the
chapel, futilely attempting to play “The Spirit of God” on the piano. As a young
child, Elder Jenson had received some piano lessons, and even though he thought
my odd little hobby to be a quixotic pursuit, he gave me a very brief explanation
of sharps and flats before returning to the basketball court.
Thanks to my recent discovery of lye soap, I spent less than an hour
washing my clothes. The chore still bores me. However, Elder Jenson owned
several Janice Kapp Perry albums, and since our room had a window
overlooking the back porch where we washed our garments, on P-Days we would
prop the radio on the windowsill and listen to those spiritual tunes. It made the
chore less onerous, and I found a new peace as I opened my heart to these
beautiful melodies. To this day, those songs will bring back memories of Panuco
more vivid than anything that these pages could evoke.
There are four songs in particular that have the power to conjure images
of Panuco in my heart. “The Test” (“Didn’t he say, he sent us to be tested/Didn’t
he say, the way would not be sure/But didn’t he say we could live with Him
forevermore…”). “Live That Ye May Attain” (“This new and untried author may
miss the happy ending/Except the master teacher knows the end from the
beginning/And he puts these words in my mind…”). “The Least of These”
(“Lord, help me love the least of these/Help me to go where thy light leads
me/Give me a heart that sees another’s need…”). “Song of Testimony” (“I know
God lives/I know He loves me/I know He hears and answers when I pray/I know
His son is my redeemer/And that He died for me/That I may live eternally
someday…”).
In the evening, I gave my D&C 76 lesson which I had first given to my
district of sister missionaries in Madero. Once more I tried to broaden my
district’s vision. We were doing more than simply baptizing people. We were
setting them on a course for the celestial kingdom and eternal life with our Father
in Heaven. I think the lesson went over well.
I got animated during the interviews and talked to Elders Perez and Acosta
about goals. Throughout the entire conversation, I emphatically waved my hands
and pointed my fingers. Elder Acosta had to hide a smile because my enthusiastic
gesticulation amused him. I, too, hid a smile, knowing that for some strange
reason, I had begun to preach the gospel of goal-setting to every congregation
who would listen to me. That’s something I thought I’d never do. I’ve never been
a goal-oriented person. I’m more so now, but still have a ways to go. Pappy
Goodman once said that learning to make goals will make me rich someday.

Tuesday, December 30, 1997

It was kind of a shallow day. We got the numbers, but they really don’t
mean anything. I think the most effective things we did today was with our new
converts and less-actives, activities that, unfortunately, were not reflected directly
in the weekly reports.
I’m really enjoying my time with Elder Jenson. He knew how to spin a
good yarn, and he would often entertain us both between appointments by

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regaling me with mirthful tales of his youth and adolescence. He had grown up in
a small town in rural Utah. His father was a science teacher at the local high
school, and Elder Jenson was extremely involved in gardening, horticulture, and
landscaping. He often was excused from classes because the principal had asked
him to care for the high school’s flowerbeds and trees. He had so many stories
about life in rural Utah, and each story was always so masterfully told that I
would forget my aching feet as we walked from one end of Panuco to the other. I
think we’ll baptize a ton together.
We stopped by Esther’s house and helped her make a piñata. She was a
contact that we had made on Christmas Eve, but Elder Jenson and I had not yet
found the time to follow up with her. On our visit that day, we found her once
again too busy to talk with the missionaries. Nevertheless, it was an effective
visit in that it helped us to demonstrate our love and concern for her.
Some funny things occurred today. Ausencio’s wife tried to reject us but
couldn’t quite do it because her husband is spineless. This was another charla
from earlier in the week, not a very effective one, but one that amused me.
Ausencio had accepted our invitation to read the Book of Mormon, and we had
given him a copy of the same. When we came to follow up with him, he tried to
return the book to us, telling us that his wife had informed him that the two of
them were Catholic and thus had no need for the Book of Mormon.
I was saddened by the whole exchange, yet at the same time somewhat
amused. I thus continued to toy with Ausencio. I asked him if he had read the
book, and he replied in the negative, and once more tried to return the book to
me. I told him that the book had been a gift, and when he had accepted the gift,
he had promised to read it. I could not, therefore, accept it from him in good
conscience unless he read it first. He stood there for a good two minutes, in silent
frustration, not knowing what to do or say. “Just read the book, and we’ll be by
next week to pick it up from you,” I told him. Then we turned our backs on him
and left. We never did return.
Areli, another contact from the week before, rejected us from a distance by
shouting across her darkened yard, telling us to leave her alone and never come
back. This exchange amused me as well, perhaps because working with Elder
Jenson always put me in such a good mood. The two of us had a laugh at Areli’s
expense, figuring that she didn’t have the nerve to look us in the eye and ask us to
take our message of everlasting salvation to someone more appreciative.
I’m growing to love Panuco like I never did while I was here before. The
key to loving a people is working (hard) on their behalf.

Wednesday, December 31, 1997

And thus 1997 closes. Not with a bang, but with a whimper. Today was
about as useless as they come. The president had once more asked all the elders
in the mission to be in their apartments by seven o’clock; New Year’s Eve in
Mexico can approach dangerous levels of revelry.
I hope the year to come will treat me well. The one I leave behind is
something special. I feel like I’ve accomplished quite a bit. I suppose that I want

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to improve on the basics—scripture study and prayer. I know that if I can build
these patterns into my life, I won’t go astray. I still have much to learn about
leadership.
The previous week, when we had been confined to quarters for an evening,
we had watched church videos. This week, Elder Perez asked me if we could rent
a movie. I relented, and we watched the G-rated movie Babe. Elder Jenson did
not join us, spending the evening in our room, studying his scriptures. His
dedication to the rules inspired me at the same time that it shamed me. When all
was said and done, I regretted not being a leader of more firm resolve. If I could
do things over I would have done today differently. I need to learn to put my foot
down and keep it down. I want to be a man of Christ, a disciple. That is my
greatest desire.

Thursday, January 1, 1998

We figured out how to use the darts that my ward sent me. These were not
traditional metal pointed darts. They were made of plastic and the dartboard was
like a three-dimensional plastic comb; supposedly the darts were to stick between
the plastic teeth. Before that day, whenever we threw a dart, it would simply
bounce off the dartboard, not sticking even for a few seconds. After
experimenting during our breakfast time, we figured out how to throw the cheap
darts with just the right flick of the wrist to make them stick in the dart board.
I don’t think we found a sober person all day. I don’t think it was that
bad, but it was pretty bad. Contacting was pretty useless. I can’t wait to get back
to normal and work hard and effectively.
My studies are getting back up to par. I’m having problems to remember
English words and getting them to translate here in my journal. My cold is
returning with vengeance. I’ll probably pop a pill and go to sleep. None of my
thoughts are making sense right now. I just need some sleep and start over right
now. The greatest adventure is what lies ahead; today and tomorrow have yet to
be said.

Friday, January 2, 1998

I don’t think I was quite sober myself last night. Nothing that I wrote
seems to make sense now. None of my thoughts seemed to connect. I had been
feeling out of it for the past week, fighting off one of the worst head colds I had
ever had. It would be another few weeks before my body finally finished fighting
off the infection, but in the meantime, Elder Jenson and I worked hard, even on
those days when we stayed home in the morning to allow my body some rest.
We’re passing through some down moments, but I’m trying to be
optimistic. The Prez wants me to baptize, so I guess that’s what I’ll have to do.
It’s so hard when the people don’t want to cooperate. Esther backed out today.
Juan Israel is having second thoughts, and all our other investigators are sitting on
their thumbs. Juan Israel was a young man who lived in a middle-class colonia
between Calle Carranza and the Rio Panuco. He lived at home with his parents

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and was honestly searching for truth. During the time we knew him, he was
meeting with representatives from several different religions. He continued to
waffle for weeks, causing us no end of backbreaking labor and frustration. We
did all that we could, the spirit testified to the truthfulness of our message, and
still Juan Israel hesitated.
Elder Jenson and I have decided that we need to be talking more about
baptism with every charla. In Cincinnati, he had to put it into every principle in
every charla. We’ll do something similar. We started by being more bold in our
first charlas. For the rest of our time together, we mentioned baptism in one form
or another in every single discussion we gave. In the most powerful discussions
we gave, we always informed the contact that once he (or she) knew that our
message was true, we would invite him (or her) to be baptized. In most instances,
we only planted the seed of an idea, by mentioning how prophets in every age
urged the people to follow Christ by being baptized.

Saturday, January 3, 1998

We got in a fairly decent day today—one new family, two second charlas,
and a third and a fourth charla. I haven’t had days like this since Huejutla. I’m
ready to take off running, even though my cold has returned with a vengeance and
I’m dying. I’m coughing, sniffing, wheezing, sneezing, complaining, whining,
and all the other symptoms of a terrible cold. In the following weeks, there were
frequent days in which Elder Jenson and I would take the morning off, my cold
having knocked me off my feet and sucked the energy from my body. On those
days, we worked extra hard in the afternoon, trying to achieve our goals despite
the setback in the morning.
I think we’ve started the year off right. These last couple of days we have
been working hard and teaching lots of discussions. I just hope that this cold
weather goes away and that I can move on with my life.
Today while visiting with Juan Israel, we noticed that he had several
books from various religions lying around his bedroom. We asked our host for a
drink of water, and when he left the room for a few minutes, Elder Jenson and I
stole a JW book from Juan Israel. Elder Jenson had done similar things with
investigators in Cincinnati. Inspired by his tales of derring-do, I opened my
backpack, grabbed the offending material, and quickly stuffed them in beside my
proselyting material. I figured that Juan would progress much faster towards
baptism without the distractions of false doctrine slowing him down. However,
we were unable to remove all the distractions. Juan Israel, as any typical
teenager would, had his room plastered in posters of half-naked women. Thus, I
taught a charla in front of a wall of near-pornographic posters.
Other challenges that day included an awkward discussion with one of our
investigators. We taught Olivia the law of chastity, even though she had some
pretty specific, personal questions. As mentioned earlier, her situation was
complex, involving as it did a live-in boyfriend, an ex-husband, and an unborn
child fathered during a tryst with the latter. Helping her to see the error of her

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ways was a difficult proposition. After all was said and done, it was a very
memorable and productive day. I wish every day could be like today.

Sunday, January 4, 1998

Today we met at 1:00 p.m. The two branches met together for a combined
testimony meeting that lasted two hours. This was a tradition of the Panuco
branches, dating back to the time when the original Panuco branch was first split.
The first Sunday of every year was reserved for a combined meeting of the two
branches, in which everyone was given an opportunity to bear their testimony.
The meeting lasted for a long two hours, with the missionaries sitting on the back
row getting tired and restless. To make matters worse, the microphone wasn’t
working, so we could only hear half the testimonies; the rest were mumbled too
incomprehensibly for us to feel their spirit. I got bored out of my mind, so with
Elders Jenson and Perez looking on, I calculated how many hours I have left until
I go home. It’s over 4,000.
With meetings smack-dab in the middle of the day, we’re back to
inefficient Sundays. These types of Sundays were always difficult to work,
because we never had the opportunity to build the necessary momentum. The
working day was only a few hours long anyways, and being dissected by three
hours of meetings and an hour of lunch made it all the more difficult to build up
any workable steam. After the meetings, we lingered in the chapel briefly, giving
Alicia time to return home and begin preparations for our lunch. During that
time, I worked a little bit more on the piano, but nothing real serious.
We had another good week—thirty charlas, six new families. I’ve never
had such a long string of good weeks. The last time I did that, was during my
time in Huejutla with Elder Avila. Back then, our hard-work paid off; we
baptized a bunch of people. I hope the same happens in Panuco.

Monday, January 5, 1998

One of my finest P-Days ever. I started with a thorough cleaning of our

kitchen. We then ran errands in the Centro, washed clothes, and studied. By 1:00
I had everything done that I needed to get done. My definition of a successful
preparation day was one in which all the necessary chores were finished early
enough to provide myself with a substantial amount of leisure time. Not only did I
enjoy those down moments, but having been so efficient during the earlier part of
the day left me with a euphoric feeling of self-satisfaction during the remainder.
We traded zone leaders today. Elder Carillo went north for health reasons
(he had kidney stones) and we received Elder Rios. Our former zone leader
would finish his mission in Tampico, while Elder Rios, whom I had known in
Matamoros, was sent to us in his place. I was actually quite excited about
working with him again; the two of us had had a workable relation in our former
days in that far off city on the Rio Grande. However, something had changed the
equation of our relationship, and that January saw the beginnings of a power
struggle between the two of us.

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He arrived in the middle of my district meeting, and my first impression

after meeting him again after nearly a year was that he’s not as fun as he was in
Matamoros. Nevertheless, I was optimistic about the future, believing that he had
grown and developed as a leader in the months that had separated us. I think
he’ll help the zone a ton. Together, we’ll lift the zone, we’ll baptize. I’m just a
little worried because he’s become so stiff and un-fun. I didn’t feel any warmth
or love from him during his first introduction to the zone. His leadership style
was so crisp and militaristic that Elder Jenson and I began making jokes about
him that would begin “back when I was in ‘Nam, we would…”
We finished our day with our traditional ice cream, and then had a water
fight with Mayra, and ate a Rosca. The Rosca is a traditional Mexican cake,
eaten on the Día de los Reyes. This oft-overlooked holiday commemorated the
arrival of the three wise men, and is the last day of the oft-sung of “Twelve Days
of Christmas.” The Rosca, a round pastry traditionally eaten on that day, held a
small plastic doll inside it somewhere. Whoever received the slice of cake with
the doll in it, had thirty days to do some small service for those he (or she) was
eating the cake with. As luck would have it, I received the plastic doll, and so
began planning my small service for Elders Perez, Acosta, and Jenson.
The weather had taken a chilly downturn, which was contributing to my
persistent cold. I finally realized, one evening, that the window above my head
was broken in the upper corner and letting in a frosty draft during the evening,
which may have been the reason for my cold being so terrible when I awoke in the
mornings. Having recognized this, I worked to rectify the situation, covering the
broken window with a heavy blanket, and heating my bath water in a bucket on
the stove. It was with some remorse and optimism that I recorded the lament—
I’m back to bathing in buckets.

Tuesday, January 6, 1998

What a dreamy conference. Like all conferences in the Huasteca, this one
was held in the chapel in Tempoal; it was a large and roomy chapel; previously it
had served as the district headquarters for the entire Huasteca region. We met
with elders from Ebano, Tantayuca, Tempoal, San Felipe, Tamazunchale, and of
course, Huejutla.
On the bus that morning, I rode to Tempoal with Elder Perez and
answered his gospel questions. It was an opportunity for the two of us to bond. I
had been feeling a level of hesitation or doubt from Elder Perez, and it had kept
us from forming a satisfying working relationship with him. It was therefore nice
to sit down with him and chat. I treated all of his questions with respect, and
after that day, our relationship improved substantially.
I was thrilled to see many of my old friends again, especially Elder Avila.
Boy, do I love that guy. He was working in Tantayuca as a senior companion. I
was excited to see him again, and sat next to him throughout the conference,
swapping mission gossip and updates from our former areas. We had both been
in Huejutla together, and I had followed him into Barrio Independencia, so we
had a lot of common ground to cover together. From him, I got an update on our

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former area: Huejutla had achieved an attendance of one hundred; Chela and
Carolina were both baptized; and Teófila’s third eldest daughter, who had
recently turned eight had also entered the waters of baptism. The most exciting
news for me was that Antonia and Yolanda Monterubio and Lupita and Pilar
Lopez went to the temple! It makes me so happy to see Huejutla progressing.
Every member of the branch presidency is endowed now.
Sister Gillespie was absent from the conference, so at lunch time, we piled
into the assistant’s van and traveled to the opposite end of town. The Prez took
us to a really cool restaurant in Tempoal. The exterior had a large grass roof, and
the president had reserved the entire establishment for the combined Panuco,
Tempoal, and Huejutla zones. We sat five to a table, and I sat with my two sons—
Elders Avila and Garcia—along with my current companion. Elder Kennedy also
joined us; he had been Elder Jenson’s trainer in Ebano. We ate a seven-course
meal for only $N25 (less than $4!!). The food was grubbin’. It was a pleasure
seeing so many of my old buddies.
After the conference, I challenged President Gillespie on a point of
doctrine. He looked thoughtful, and together we searched for an answer in the
scriptures. It turned out that he was correct, but he smiled and shook my hand.
The Prez told me that I was the only one of his elders who had the ability to
correct him on a point of doctrine, (and the only elder whose challenge he would
seriously consider.) A few months later, I watched as a greenie tried to correct
the mission president on a minor point of doctrine. The president, however, just
shook his head, and told the young elder that he was mistaken.
Elder Kennedy and I rode the bus home together. We had been good
friends when I had been in Huejutla and he had been in nearby San Felipe. We
were in the same zone now, though he was an hour to the west in small-town
Ebano. He was still a lot of fun to talk to, an excellent listener, and excited by
anything I told him. He praised me on my teaching style, which he had observed
from time to time when I had presented messages in district meetings. I was
surprised, though, to learn that Elder Jenson had told him I was a good teacher.

Wednesday, January 7, 1998

An average day, I suppose. (Average, he says? He taught eight charlas

and found two new families!). I’m just so focused now on our goal of four
baptisms this month that I’m no longer paying much attention to our daily
progress. In fact, I didn’t view four baptisms as our own goal, but as the Lord’s
goal. Elder Jenson and I had faith that the Lord would bless our labors because
we were being obedient and working hard, and we knew that the goal we had set
was one that the Lord wanted accomplished. I knew that in trying to help the
Lord out in every way I can, we could prepare the way for four people in Panuco
to receive the gospel.
As part of that effort, we had worked with Clara and her husband,
Antelmo. We had lost many other hand-me-down investigators when we first
entered the area, but Clara remained faithful in listening to our message.
Antelmo, who was not legally her spouse, stopped listening to the discussions

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after we had asked him to obey the word of wisdom by abstaining from alcohol.
However, he did not forbid Clara from continuing to meet with us. This morning,
however, the two of them were married. The bureaucrats in the Civil Records
office wouldn’t let us be witnesses. Unlike the other weddings in which I had
been a witness, the records office in Panuco demanded that we show a Mexican
ID card, which of course, we did not have. Instead, we pulled another couple
from the waiting room who witnessed for Clara and Antelmo, and then our happy
couple in turn witnessed for their witness couple. We lost two hours at the civil
records office, as well as 120 pesos. We paid the fee out of our own pocket,
footing half the bill for the wedding. The other half was provided by Clara and
Antelmo themselves.
We’re excited about the coming weeks. We have a lot to do and we just
need to get it done. Our teaching pool was full, and we had several people
nearing baptismal dates. I hadn’t had such a promising teaching pool since my
days in Huejutla. I knew that it was just a matter of time before the success I had
achieved there would be duplicated in Panuco.
Today, for lunch, Hermana Alicia made us hamburgers again. This time I
could only down three. But she also made French fries. It was all so very
dreamy. Onward, upward, outward, and forward!

Thursday, January 8, 1998

Little by little we’re making progress. I was talking to Elder Jenson today
about professional seminary teachers; their job, life, etc. I think it’s something I
would definitely like to do. His uncle worked for the Church Educational System,
and thus he had inside information on what the lifestyle of CES employees was
like. President Goodman had also been an instructor with the Church
Educational System, and he had given me advice and encouragement in pursuing
that vocation.
Yesterday and today have been just sort of blah—bland and lacking taste.
We’re achieving our goals, making progress with various persons toward baptism.
I was being so careful with our large teaching pool, that we were not making
progress as fast as I would have liked. Besides Clara and Juan Israel, we were
also working with the family of a newly baptized member, Andres. His wife was
very interested in our message, his son was marginally so. His daughter, on the
other hand, wanted nothing to do with her father’s new religion.
We had also tracted out an entire colonia, albeit a small one. The colonia
was surrounded by sugarcane fields on two sides, and felt very remote and
peaceful. Clara’s mother lived there and we had found three new families that
were preparing for baptism. The colonia was sparsely settled, with no water or
electric services, but in which we found a great deal of success. We were juggling
so many families, so many appointments, and yet I was moving very cautiously
with each one of them. I was afraid to lose any of them because I wanted to
baptize all of them. As a result, I’m beginning to run out of gas.
I am studying the New Testament in the mornings and it’s really helping
me to see the eternal gospel. If I really understand the New Testament then I will

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be able to see the common threads that connect the modern church with the
primitive. I began to feel a connection to Peter and Paul, knowing that we
preached the same message to a population direly in need of what we had to offer.
That connection with the ancient apostles increased my faith, and helped me to
find the energy and commitment to keep working, even in the face of
overwhelming despair.
As part of the combat against that despair, I used an order form from the
crossword puzzle book that I had received for Christmas, and using money sent by
my parents, I sent away for six more similar books. I was very excited about
getting some more crossword puzzles. They filled my P-Days, and after lunch,
Elder Jenson and I would often work a word puzzle or two to relax before once
more entering the fray.

Friday, January 9, 1998

Well, I guess that’s it. I finally died. Worst day I’ve had in nearly a
month and a half. There’s nothing more to do than to go to bed and do better
tomorrow. I’ve been sick with a cold all day, with stuffy nose, headache, sneezes,
and so forth. We lost some hours because of that. Our family home evening with
Juan Israel fell through. He wasn’t home when he was supposed to have been, so
we had to trudge back to Alicia’s home to tell her that we would not be needing
her living room, or television, or VCR.
Sometimes I just want to quit fighting, throw in the towel. Working with
people is just too darn hard. Getting schedules to coincide, people motivated, and
so forth. I’m really not built for such tasks. Not much more to say. Today was
one of the most difficult and useless days in the last year and a half. I always
knew that there would be ups and downs.
Perhaps Satan was trying to dissuade me from working hard. Not only did
I have several future members in my teaching pool that week, but the very next
day, Elder Jenson and I would find the most powerful and faithful family that has
ever been my privilege to teach. Satan knew that our hard work in the next
couple of days would lead a family to salvation and eternal life, and that they, in
turn, would be a force for righteousness in the Panuco Branch. Satan tried to
make me give up before ever finding Ruben and Soledad.

Saturday, January 10, 1998

I hate Family Home Evenings. We planned one out for Juan Israel and
Olivia, but, as always, we didn’t get started on time. We did, however, get
started, which was more than could be said for the family home evening that we
had planned for the previous evening. We had already planned an FHE for
Olivia for this Saturday evening, and since Juan Israel had been a no-show the
previous night, we invited him as well. The family home evening was a simple
affair. It consisted of watching a church video at a member’s home. Since Alicia,
our asesora, was the only active member with a VCR in our area, she often served

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above and beyond by opening her home to these activities. This evening, we also
invited Luz and Julio, recent converts from Elder Perez’s area.
The late start that evening was partly my fault. We headed over to
Colonia Solidaridad to give service to María de la Cruz. She was a less-active
member who lived in the same colonia as Clara and Antelmo. María’s daughter
lived with her, along with five grandchildren. Her daughter’s husband was
working in the U.S. We had made considerable progress with the family, though
in recent weeks, they had once more turned bitter towards the church. In search
of aid for her family, María de la Cruz asked the branch president for help. She
was offended when the branch president requested that she work for the money he
gave her, asking her to clean the chapel. We continued to work with the family,
hoping to return them to full activity.
The service we rendered that evening was simple; we moved a big pile of
bricks. I thought the task would only take us an hour, but we went for an hour
and a half. And the family was helping us, too. We had to leave for our FHE
before the task was finished, but we promised to return to finish it soon. We then
swung by Luz and Julio’s house, dropped them off at Alicia’s, then ran and got
Juan Israel and Olivia. The family home evening, despite its late start, was a
great success.
We achieved most of our goals, but I’m finding it harder and harder not to
be trunky. I really can’t imagine doing anything else; missionary work is such a
part of who I am. I’m just anxious to move on to something that perhaps I’ll be
better at doing.
Unmentioned in this entry, was our initial contact with Ruben and
Soledad. The contact had been like any other contact before it, one of five
charlas we gave that day. Both Elder Jenson and I were impressed with the
family, and I was uncertain that my abilities were going to be sufficient to teach
and baptize this man, his wife, and his three children. Ruben was the principal of
a local elementary school, and Soledad was a teacher at another nearby school.
The two were urbane and articulate, and in that respect, they were unlike any of
the people in our teaching pool at that time.

Sunday, January 11, 1998

It was a pretty good Sabbath. We went out to work in the morning, and
work we did. Not only did we find a new family, but we also gave a half an hour
of service. We returned to Colonia Solidaridad and finished moving the brick pile
for María de la Cruz. My shirt got fairly dirty, so we had to return home to
change. We left to go to church, but when I had changed my shirt, I had forgotten
to change my nametag. We had to return home to retrieve it. We also had to
explain to Elder Perez why we had to make a quick exit, and he was appalled at
the thought of doing manual labor on the Sabbath. I figured that in giving service
to our fellow man, we were only giving service to God, an appropriate Sunday
activity. Elder Perez disagreed with my theological exegesis.
We finally arrived on time, and I blessed the sacrament. I was called upon
to give a talk, following Elder Perez, who also give a decent talk. Elder Perez

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had a lot of good things to say, but his speaking style was rather mellow. I got
behind the podium and tried to put all the energy that I could behind my words.
We only had two investigators in sacrament meeting, and Elder Rios
didn’t come for his scheduled interview with Juan Israel. He was supposed to
meet with us after our Sunday meetings, but he was a no-show. This was my first
indication that I was going to have problems with my new zone leader. I had
always believed that a leader should put the needs of those he served above his
own needs. As a district leader, I often canceled or rescheduled appointments in
my own area so that I could go to the baptismal interviews that had been set for
me by the members of my district. I was angry because I thought that Elder Rios
had such disregard for the success of my area that he had failed to show up at this
baptismal interview.
The dart board is up and I’m improving noticeably every day.

Monday, January 12, 1998

My laziest Panuco P-Day. I was done with my laundry by 8:15 and spent
two hours in my crossword puzzles. I didn’t do anything, which explains the
unsettled feeling I now have. Last night I gave the bathroom a good cleaning, for
which everyone now thinks I’m a sinner. Oh well. At least our bathroom is
clean. Although I feel justified in giving service to María de la Cruz on that
Sabbath morning, I probably shouldn’t have begun my P-Day chores on Sunday
night. Elder Perez, who already thought I had erred in giving service, now knew
that I really was mistaken in my Sabbath day observances.
Tonight I gave the Atributo Cristiano about the role we have as
missionaries to gather scattered Israel. I finished up with Elder Jenson’s favorite
line—“This ain’t no two-year, EFY, get-closer-to-Jesus trip!” He had heard the
quote from his mission president in Cincinnati, and had shared it with me. It
didn’t translate into Spanish very easily, but Elder Jenson knew what I was trying
to say, and he busted a gut laughing, incredulous that I should repeat such a thing
in our district meeting.
I’ve just about got “Spirit Of God” on the piano. I think I’ve about burned
out on that goal. What I need is a teacher. I felt that I had taught myself as much
as I could, and figured that upon returning home, I could easily find someone to
teach me how to play the piano. I still haven’t revisited that goal, though I hope
to someday.
Upon returning to the apartment that night, I went on an unnecessary
rampage. I was angry that no one else had put in the time or effort to clean the
apartment. I began shouting, sounding much like my mother, about how terribly
difficult it must be to throw away empty cans, or rinse off dirty dishes. I shamed
Elders Perez and Acosta into doing some cleaning that evening, but I felt bad that
I had done it in such a heavy-handed way.
While they were distracted by their chores, I made a discreet exit with
Elder Jenson, and walked to the corner store. I bought a dozen donuts, and
returned with them to the apartment. I gave the donuts to my housemates, told
them I loved them, and that I appreciated their efforts, not only in cleaning the

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apartment, but also in working in the Lord’s vineyard. In doing so, I tried to
follow the admonitions of the Lord, as contained in the 121st section of the
Doctrine and Covenants. Because I had reproved with sharpness that evening, I
felt a responsibility to show an increase in love towards those I had rebuked, lest
they esteem me as their enemy.

Tuesday, January 13, 1998

I went on a split with my zone leader today. Elder Rios is a good deal like
Elder Castro, my erstwhile zone leader. Both of them had rather stern and
inflexible proselyting styles. We had a fairly efficient day, but I’m not sure if I
fully agree with his proselyting tactics. I was afraid that such a forward and
overconfident proselyting manner could be interpreted as uncivil or rude. I
strongly believed that my job as a missionary was to help other to feel the spirit,
and this I could not do if they were turned off by some perceived slight or offense.
I needed to be on my best behavior if I was going to succeed, and I had doubts
about that I could succeed if I were to employ Elder Rios’ more vigorous
approach to missionary work.
Nevertheless, I was not entirely confident that my style of missionary work
was the kind of style that brought in large numbers of baptisms. I worried that in
teaching the gospel in a less forceful manner, that I would never reach the levels
of success that others, Elder Rios included, had already achieved. I’m back to
wondering if I really have what it takes to be a good missionary. I lack the
aggressive forwardness of Elder Rios.
For strength, I recalled the missionary opportunities of my youth. I think
my experience with Shawn has shaped the way I now work. It took him three
years to finally be baptized, through which I watched three sets of different elders
trying to do it, pushing him and manipulating him. In the end, it was Sylvia’s
death that was the final push into the font, aggressive missionaries
notwithstanding. It was only at that tragic funeral that he was able to open his
heart to the spirit of God and embrace the truth of the plan of salvation.
However, even then, he still waited another six months before being baptized.
I learned, in watching Shawn’s conversion, that missionaries can do
nothing to make a person be baptized, only the still small voice of the spirit has
that convincing power. Nevertheless, missionaries can hinder or slow a person’s
progress towards salvation by being too forward or aggressive. The choice to be
baptized is a very personal matter between an individual and God. I will trust in
the spirit. I will do all I can and trust that the Spirit of the Lord will touch the
hearts of those I have been called to teach.

Wednesday, January 14, 1998

I went on another split today, this time with Elder Perez in his area. We
walked a ton, and had very little success. I’ve gotten way too trunky these last
couple of days. I’ve got to refocus and move onward. Today we made a ton of
visits but no one was home. It was nice to sit back and be the junior comp and let

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someone else drive. This was the least effective split I ever did as a missionary. I
looked at it as a day off, an opportunity to not worry about my area, not worry
about planning, or charlas, or no-shows. I should have used it as an opportunity
to teach Elder Perez, and help him to be a better missionary.
While we were working the western half of the Panuco Second Branch,
our companions worked the eastern and southern ends. Thus, Elder Jenson did
the first follow-up with Ruben and Soledad. Later that evening, my companion
enthusiastically reported that both husband and wife had read the passage in the
Book of Mormon that we had marked for them, and they were interested in
listening to more of our message. It was finally beginning to dawn on us that we
had something special in Ruben and Soledad. However, the day that I had spent
working with Elder Rios had weakened my confidence, and I worried that I was
not a good enough missionary to bring Ruben and Soledad into full fellowship
with the saints of God.
The day gave me the opportunity to meditate on the state of the world and
my own place in it. I guess I’ve lived a sheltered life. I see so much wickedness
and anguish in the world. I’ve always known it was there, but I’ve never seen it
so up close and personal. I want to do my best to stem the tide.

Thursday, January 15, 1998

Elder Jenson really is a good companion. Without me having to verbally

express what was bothering me, he was able to resolve some major concerns.
Ever since I had worked with Elder Rios two days before, I had been feeling down
and depressed. I felt that Elder Rios had been such a successful missionary, and
his success must vindicate his forceful and forward style. Sensing my distress and
despair, Elder Jenson opened my eyes to the reality of my situation.
First, about my low number of baptisms, he pointed out that most of my
mission had been spent not in the big cities, like Elder Rios’s mission, but I had
spent nearly all my time in pueblitos. In the smaller towns, the people live closer
to the past, and were thus tied much more strongly to the traditions of their
fathers. The larger cities were fertile grounds for the conversion of souls. Those
elders who spent the majority of their time in the big cities of Mexico often had
larger numbers of baptisms. Elder Rios (50+ baptisms) only spent 3 of his 23
months in a pueblo. Elder Burch has yet to leave the big city.
Second, Mexico is not a mentally demanding mission, though it is
physically taxing. Elder Jenson says the reverse is true in the States. He was
qualified to make that judgment, because he had spent several months in the
Louisville Kentucky Mission while waiting for the Mexican government to
approve his visa. I recognized that I was often unfocused or distracted during a
large portion of our proselyting time. I was often depressed because I felt that my
mind was constantly racing into inappropriate topics or tangential thoughts.
Because the missionary work here doesn’t wear on me mentally, it’s
understandable the fight I’ve had to stay focused. It would also explain why I
always feel so darn tired and worn out—it’s because I am.
Now, if I can only find peace about my lack of Christian attributes.

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Friday, January 16, 1998

Last night we stopped on our way to an appointment to enjoy the twilight

hours of the day. Across the street from us was a baseball field. We were
watching the game, when all of a sudden play stopped. A cow had wandered into
the outfield. That’s Mexico for you. Elder Jenson and I both laughed and moved
on to our scheduled appointment.
We were going to have an interview for Clara tomorrow, but the zone
leader’s phone has been cut again. This just gave me one more reason to dislike
and mistrust Elder Rios. Other than that, though, we had a fairly good day. We
found some fairly good families. María Isabel is a widow of two months with
small kids. Her husband died one night last year after having been hit by a car. In
teaching her, we focused on the doctrine of eternal families, and how she could be
with her husband forever. It was only later that we discovered that her husband
was an abusive drunk, and that she felt a surge of relief and liberation the night
her husband died. We presented the wrong message at the right time.
María Isabel’s neighbor is a humble and receptive Teresa. This was a
large family that lived in a newly constructed house a few blocks from where
Clara’s mother lived. We were never able to get an accurate count as to the
number of children that lived there; every time we visited, we were greeted by a
different set of siblings. We presented our message to the home, and were well
received.
We’re progressing, little by little. We’re throwing everything we’ve got
into these days. We will baptize, if not in January, we’ll do it in February. I had
already lost faith that the Lord would bless our work in the month of January. I
did not feel that we had worked hard enough, nor sacrificed sufficiently. Instead,
Elder Jenson and I were preparing for an outpouring of the Spirit for the
following month.

Saturday, January 17, 1998

My body has shut down. I’m sick. I’ve got a stuffy head, coughs,
sneezes, runny nose, diarrhea, and a headache. I’ve never felt worse.
Notwithstanding my sickness, we went to work and had an average day. My
journal keeping is beginning to fall off. I have to bathe tonight, but it’ll have to
be in cold water, so that’ll just make me worse.
Today we wandered a lot, but taught some charlas. I feel kind of
concerned that I’ve been sick every week. Maybe I’m allergic to something. We
taught a chaffa first charla to the daughter-in-law of a member. I really wasn’t
feeling very good so I couldn’t seem to give it the energy and ánimo that it
deserved. She didn’t seem too interested, but oh well. We had worked with this
family for quite some time. The mother and father of the family were members of
the church, though none of their children were still active. We tried teaching the
children’s spouses, but in most cases had no success. The discussion on this day

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suffered not only from my own lack of excitement, but from the contact’s lack of
excitement as well. We nevertheless continued working with the family.

Sunday, January 18, 1998

We finally taught Areceli the third charla today. She said she believed
everything that we have taught her. And she knows what that means. She knows
she has to accept all or reject all. You can’t pick and choose in the gospel plan.
We were also teaching her brother the discussions, but the two of them were very
rarely home at the same time. Thus we were forced to teach them separately.
After the meetings today, I added “Israel, Israel, God Is Calling” to my
library of musical memorizations. That brings it up to eight; I’ll try to make it an
even ten before I attempt to use my left hand. María Animas, Clara’s mother,
came to church today. She had some spiritual yearnings, and so attended the only
church where she knew she would be welcomed. She often came with her
daughter, but for some reason, resisted our invitations to baptism.
I had to teach the adult Sunday school with zero notice. I went to with
faith and energy. Alicia, who normally taught the adult Sunday school class was
not in church that day. She was a little intimidated, after this lesson, about taking
the reins back from my capable hands. Thus began my two-month stint as a
Gospel Doctrine teacher. The study that year focused on the Old Testament, and
this first lesson I presented was about Noah and the Flood.
I skipped out on the priesthood meeting, but helped with the home
teaching assignments. Elder Jenson and I agreed to do some splits with members
of the ward, not for the purpose of our own missionary work, but to facilitate the
home teaching efforts and strengthen the Panuco Branch. We agreed to do it, and
we were partnered with Julio and Martin, both recent converts.

Monday, January 19, 1998

It was another fun P-Day. We ran by the Capilla de San Esteban and took
a quick self-guided tour. Huejutla’s cathedral was cooler, but Panuco’s had more
saints. It was a crying shame. Every saint had his or her own money box. We
took a look at the priest’s chair and the big, bloody crucifix. It was another
thoroughly apostate experience.
I slept, read old letters, wrote one to my family and so forth. Elder
Jorgenson called in the transfers to me instead of to our zone leader, because
Elder Rios’s phone bill is still unpaid. Elder Perez takes off, and Elder Randall
will come in his place. He was Elder Avila’s first junior comp. I looked forward
to swapping stories about one of my favorite (and most unconventional)
companions.

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Elder Barrett visiting the Olmec Head

Christmas Day, Panuco, 1997

Elder Jenson on the southern outskirts of Panuco

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Willi, the Faithful Dog

After a long day of proselyting with the missionaries

Elder Barrett
Getting lost in a sugar cane field

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