Random Missionary Memories

More Random Missionary Moments. I am going to warn you ahead of time, they aren't funny or uplifting. Unless of course human suffering uplifts you, under which of course, you should probably see a doctor.

Within the first couple of months in the mission, my trainer and I went to see a family. Now if you know anything about the Latin culture you know that they will almost always offer you some kind of food or drink. Sure the mission rules were that we shouldn't eat or drink anything down there that we weren't sure of, but I honestly believe that the church makes those rules just to pacify parents that we aren't going to get sick. In other words, we would eat or drink almost anything put in front of us and prayed that Lord would bless us not to get sick. Most of the time he did bless us, I often wished he would turn the cow stomach into something I could stomach, but alas, those prayers remained unanswered.

When we went to see this family they served us a drink. A slightly orange hot water. I drank it and thanked the mother, she was a single mother of four kids. She replied to me, but since my Spanish could only be described as pre-pre-preschool level I didn't understand. My companion was a Peruvian and didn't speak English so he couldn't explain it to me right then. After we left I asked him what it was we drank, being the green missionary I was I was slightly afraid that it was tea. He explained to me that it was sugar water. Just water with a bit of sugar? Yep. That was all they could offer, but they offered it anyway. The mother had a small loom that she would make rugs with and that's how she would pay for food, but that was all she could do. I didn't realize it at first, but the room we sat in when we talked with her was the only room in what can only be described as a hovel.

Some months in the mission field, and with considerable improvement to my Spanish. I was stuck with a companion that was nearing the end of his mission and was already thinking of home, we call that Trunky. One day we were out looking for contacts, in my mind we were, in his mind we were strolling through the park. There were a group of kids playing soccer, for whatever reason one of the kids tripped and ran straight into my leg, then fell to the ground. He didn't really make an effort to get up. My companion knelt beside the kid and picked him up. I was just a dumb kid and my mind was conjuring up lessons of CPR. My companion sat the kid down on a bench and told the kid to sit there while we looked for his mother. No sooner did my companion release the child did he fall straight forward, flat on his face without making any movement to stop his fall, to the concrete. My companion was quick and picked the kid up immediately. I looked at the kid's face, it had the expected scratches, but what I didn't expect was a non-mucus white liquid coming out of his nose. Within seconds did his mother and a neighbor run up to us. The mother was freaking out, cursing at us she ripped her child from my companion's arms. My companion told her that she needed take him to a doctor, she cried and muttered that she couldn't afford it and that she'd take him home. The neighbor stepped in and said that it wasn't like it used to be, and that she could take her son to the doctor and that they didn't charge for children. I will always remember her face, the hopelessness disappearing and hope peaking through. She didn't believe it at first, but the neighbor insisted and flagged down a taxi. I never did hear what happened.

I feel ill when people say that they "understand" poverty. Or when they say that poor people just need to get a job. There are times I can't sleep at night thinking about some of the people I've seen. I sit here with a computer in front of me with high-speed internet, while I know that there is a family that has had their livelihood taken away from them and there is no one that will plead their case. I get to decide what I eat, while some have to wonder if they are going to be able to. The worst part is, I have seen their faces, I know their voices and they are my friends.

Moments that change you.

Throughout my life I have had only a couple of moments that have really changed me. All of the ones I can remember are the ones that have changed me for the good. Just for simplicity I will leave it to be understood that Marriage/Kids and similar experiences go without saying. I'm talking about the ones that change your view of the world.

While I was in the MTC and trying to become the best missionary I could be despite my groups efforts to the contrary. One night all the missionaries when to the auditorium for some talk of some kind, (come on, it's been ten years, you can't expect me to remember). It's understood as a rule that all the missionaries wear their suit jackets. It was winter at the time and overall there really wasn't a problem. Well, this particular day I sat next to a guy who didn't have is jacket on and was wiping his head every little once and a while with a handkerchief. I asked his if he was sick, because it looked like he was hot. He said that he wasn't hot, and in fact he couldn't tell. 'Why?' was the question that came out of my mouth uninvited. He then explained to me that he was recovering from brain cancer, and that when they operated they took out the part of your brain that controls your body temperature, in other words, he was cold-blooded. I asked him if they got it all and if he was going to be okay, he didn't know.

"Then why come out on a mission if you don't even know how long you are going to live?" I asked.

"Because there are more important things..."

Those words must have turned to fire and burned themselves in my brain, because to this day I can hear him say it. I never learned his name, because his words effected me so much I just sat there dumbfounded.

My whole life I have tried to make sense of those words and apply them. What are things that are more important then living? And as I pondered that question I never seem to run out of answers.

How to screw-up a perfectly good missionary opportunity

Now having grown up in mormonville my whole life I don't have a lot of experience talking to people of other faiths, well about faith anyway, I talk to them all the time. Since most everyone I know are of the LDS faith we have a lingo and sometimes we take it for granted. Nevertheless, I had an experience this past week that reminded me what a weak willed fool I am when it comes to openly talking about my faith with others.

First, as part of my own justification, therefore meaningless, I have to say that I am a passive person. I don't like confrontation and I always seem to have a problem expressing my point of view in a persuasive manner. I did serve a mission, that helps, but let's be honest, like marriage your companion takes the slack for your weaknesses as you help him with his. Self-justification done? Now on with the story.

So my family and I went camping again this past week. We stayed a little longer this time and it was more fun because of it, and we were a little better prepared, even with the rain. Late the second day a family of three pulled up and set up camp on the campsite across from us. They had a little boy that was the same age as my little girl, so of course my wife wanted to introduce them so they could play together. She invited the mother and the son over to roast marshmallows, the father was otherwise occupied. So the woman was chatting up my wife, if you haven't chatted with my wife you certainly should, she has never had an English class but her English is good and she learned it chatting. Anyway, the woman asked how we met and my wife responded that we met on our mission. This is were Mormon lingo comes in, in Utah when you say "My mission" people understand that you are talking about a two-year period that you spent for the LDS church spreading the Gospel. Outside of Utah people think of some military operation, at least from my understanding, please note that once again my knowledge of what others think outside of Utah is very limited. So the woman is of course confused and asks "A christen mission?" Suddenly my wife has to take care of something for one of the kids and I am left to answer. My mind starts racing, 'how in the world do I explain a mission in a sentence?', 'some people don't think we are christens. how do I explain that?', 'I also don't want to give the impression that an LDS mission is some kind of place to fall in love (I will explain the whole thing later this summer, it's not what you think)', 'didn't the ruling for the same-sex marriage just come down in California? Is she going to want to talk about that?'. 'I really don't want to get into a religious debate while I'm on vacation.' I think the last one was by far the biggest stumbling block of my train of thought. So I answered, "Yes, we served a christen mission for the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints" I didn't add "The Mormons" because I was already running for metaphorical cover from a religious debate. At that point my wife came back and the issue wasn't raised again.

Moral of the story? I'm a coward when it comes to really opening up about my faith. Sure, I hide behind the story that I am just trying to be a good example, but let's be honest, your example is going to leave a good impression on people but it sure isn't going to inspire faith. My suggestion to myself and to anyone that cares is that we shouldn't be afraid, and should just dive right in no matter what. Why? Because the gospel brings happiness that they might otherwise never know on this Earth.

Well, there you go.