Tender Mercies

Time to share a little missionary wisdom:

Usually, when RMs share their missionary experiences they share the most spiritually pumped moments.  The times when people break down crying, emotions are high, and miracles are popping up like daisies.  Something that's worthy of 100+ likes and 67 re-postings on Facebook.  It creates a pretty picture of missionary work, but as I've said before, a little morphed.  Unlike daisies, mission miracles are more like tulips in a parking lot.  There is a lot of digging required, water, and protection from passing cars.  And then hopefully you get one, beautiful, blooming flower.  It's worth the work, but exhausting.

So how do you not get discouraged every time some punk-kid runs over your sprouting seedling with his bicycle?   When I arrived to this lovely country called Mexico I learned pretty quickly to count the tender mercies of each day.  It began with Spanish.  In order to get through a day of not understanding anything around me I often turned to the skies for comfort.  Finding the same constellations in the night sky as I did for my BYU astronomy class, hearing a random English song played on the radio, feeling a gentle breeze wrap itself around me.  These were my consoling messages from the big guy upstairs.  The, "it's going to be okay" and "you're only in a different country, not a different planet" and "be patient, the language will come" moments.

I continued to progress with these little nudges.  Now the bicycle has changed.  The punk-kid has been switched out for a soccer mom in her SUV, running late to pick up her kids from practice.   But I've been doing this for 11 months now.  I'm far from perfect, but have a little experience to share with the other hermanas.  A few strips of caution tape to put around the tulip.

In the mission, and in life, the jaw dropping miracles will be few, but the tender mercies will come by handfuls.  You've just got to look for them.  Learn how Heavenly Father speaks with you individually.  He speaks to me through the sky.  Paints a masterpiece in the heavens to cheer me up and let me know that at least He thinks I did a good job.  Sunsets, and other little victories keep me there, kneeling by my run-over, dry, tiny seedling, sprouting out of the hard pavement.  The tulips are few, but they make for a pretty table setting in the end.

Memories

During these past two and a half months of training Hna. Pacheco I've been reminded a lot of my own training nearly ten months ago.  It's like it happened just yesterday. . .

Flashback #1 Brian's Prayer

21 years old, Brian was extremely interested in religion for someone his age.  We had just finished teaching about prophets, he had just finished explaining how Hna. Torres and I would become worshiped saints for the work that we were doing as missionaries...  I will be anxiously awaiting that recognition en el ultimo día.  Anyways, we decided that it was time to end the lesson so we invited Brian to give the closing prayer.  As always, we taught that prayer should be just like a normal conversation instead of recited sentences.  Brian took that a little too seriously...

"Buenas tardes Padre Celestial, que tal?...

.... que tenga bonita día. Amen"

English translation:  

Good afternoon Heavenly Father, what's up?...

...have a great day. Amen

Flashback #2 Street comments

We walked side by side in casual conversation, making our way to our next appointment.  A strange man passed by us like millions of other strangers do each day, but as he did, without taking a pause, said, "Con todo respecto, que chulas muñecas!"

English translation:  With all do respect, what beautiful dolls!

Flashback #3 Clueless flirting
 

We had passed by countless time trying to find the Lopez family (less actives) at home but always found it filled with all dogs and no people.  Finally, we found one of their sons home and were able to teach him.  He seemed quite interested too.  Ready to learn more about the Book of Mormon and understand it better.

My comp then began marking his Book of Mormon for him to read for our next lesson.  While she did that he turned to me:  "So do you like to watch TV?  The Big Bang Theory?  How about movies?  Do you like reading?  There is a great library downtown.  Do you like dancing?"  I was sadly and hopelessly ignorant of what he was doing.  Not understanding a word of his Spanish but smiling anyways.  He continued: "I work for this restaurant.  Great food!  You should come sometime and I'll pay." Then turning to Hna. Torres, "You can come too."

Flashback #4 Brian's invitation

My last week of training, a little over a month since "Brian's prayer."  We hadn't seen Brian since that last lesson about prophets and Catholic saints, but as we were walking to the church building he pulled up in his motorcycle.  It went a little like this:

"What a coincidence seeing you again! ... yeah I've been really  busy with school and work... ..when can we meet up again?  ... yeah Thursday works great, but how about another day too?  ...how about to go out for a cup of coffee, the movies, something like that?  ..Can you guys do that?  ....no,.. okay,.... well it was great seeing you again!"

He didn't show up that Thursday.

Random Mission Pictures

"Have you done anything good in the World today?"

A REALLY full bus of mexicans

The district

I don't really know what ethnicity i am now...

Feet of a Disciple.

Welcome to El Barrio Las Fuentes.  Us missionaries will  be your guides to salvation

"Get That Corn Outta My Face!"

Every day I realize more and more that it's going to be really hard for me to leave Mexico.  I love the people, language, culture, and FOOD!  This past week, with the independence of Mexico, I was thrown even more into the country and it's awesomeness.  We had a stake activity Friday. "Noche Mexicana."  Basically everything incredible about Mexico wrapped up into a few hours.  But before I get ahead of myself, let me say one thing:

I ATE ELOTE!!!

For those who are unfamiliar with the term "elote" let me enlighten you.  I'm sure we are all great fans of the joyful movie "Nacho Libre."  If you are not, repent.  In this knee slapper of a film there are quite a few scenes in which Jack Black and his sidekick are eating corn on a stick.  That, my friends, is elote.  I have waited 10 months to finally try it, and last week it happened.  Quite literally it is boiled corn on a stick, covered in mayonnaise and chili.  It's actually pretty good. Mision Mexico Tijuana: Accomplished.

Something you can say about nearly every country except for America is that they can dance well.  Mexico is definitely one of those countries and if you want to get a bunch of Mexican Elders trunky, just lock them all together in a room playing really good dancing music.  It was hilarious for me to watch how, with every song played, they would simultaneously cry out in desperation.  I had to join them too.  I've never been a big fan of the classic stake dances of the U.S..  Pretty boring in my opinion.  Everyone either jumps up and down, or if the song is slow, shuffle their weight from one foot to another in a very Frankenstein-like manner.  This disgust for the "white-girl-dance" is what lead me to enroll in a dance class at BYU.  Now I'm finally in a country that likes to dance, and dance WELL, and I can't even join in the fun.  That is true torture.  The bright side of things is that now I have a handful of Mexican dance-tutors to choose from for after the mish.

While we're on the subject of Mexico and food, I ate bugs last week.  Grasshoppers to be specific.  It's a Mexican snack more in the southern part of the country.  You fry'em, toss a little lemon juice on top and Bon Appétit!  Taste just like sunflower seeds.

ALL I NEED IS A MIRACLE

80's songs have a way of saying exactly what I'm thinking.  Often, as we are walking in the street, or after something strange happens, lyrics to 80's songs come popping into my head and I can't help but sing them.  My companions have no idea what I'm saying, but it certainly helps me express myself.

 Lately... actually, all of these past two transfers, I have found my self singing the chorus to one of my personal favorites "All I need is a miracle, all I need is you."  

We've been struggling a little bit out here in the desert of Las Fuentes.  It's been quite dry literally and spiritually and I've been praying that this "drought" could end soon. After 2 months of waiting, this past week we had a little drizzle.

Clementina & Fabiola:  Hace 2 semanas Sonia, our recent convert came up to us during Relief Society and told us that she had a friend that she wanted to take us to. That Wednesday we followed her to the house of Clementina, without questions she and her daughter Fabiola let us in, we taught lesson 1, and they accepted a baptismal date.

Pedro:  As well, two weeks ago he showed up at church with another recent convert, Cipriano.  We made an appointment to visit him Thursday, lesson 1, another accepted baptismal date. 

Claudia:  After a failed attempt to visit a contact, we were walking, trying to think of where else we could go when a man who had casually sat in on one of our lessons about 3 months ago (but said he had no interest) called out to us and said that he had mentioned our visit to his wife and she wanted to see us.  Now she has a baptismal date too.

Blanca:  We went to visit an investigator named Marta.  She wasn't home, but there was Blanca.  As we walked in, the first thing she said was (my translation into English) "Hey, I want you guys to start coming to my house to teach my family."  Just like that.  And I thought, "...well if you insist...."  

Sometimes it's good to be thirsty.  Helps you enjoy the water more.

P.S.  FELIZ DÍA DE INDEPENDENCIA MÉXICO!!!!

Misión MÉxico Tijuana

Walking in His Shoes

Life would be a lot easier if I wasn't a missionary.

Usually I consider myself a pretty optimistic person.  Always finding something to laugh at or a reason to smile.  Being sure to always write about the good stuff that happens in the mission.  that's been going on for the past 10 months now.

I've decided it's time for a reality check.

The mission is not all fuzzy feelings, miracles, and baptisms.  I believe every RM and devoted fan of "The Best Two Years" would agree with me in that statement.  Far too often we tell those future missionaries, "Oh, the mission will be the best time of your life!  It will be hard, but so fantastic!"  Why don't we ever talk more about the hard parts?  Why don't we talk about the rejection?  Or mention all the tearful prayers in the bathroom so your companion doesn't hear?  How about those ward members that think your inadequate, or being stood up for appointments.  And then there are your investigators, who you've learned to love and worked so hard for, that tell you they don't want any more to deal with you.  Why do we avoid mentioning these moments?

Others then say, "The missionaries have such a great portion of the Spirit with them."  But forget to add how hard we have to wok to be worthy of that Spirit.  I have never before been so self-conscious of my sins.  Take away every little thing that could impede me from having the companionship of the Spirit.  It's exhausting.  "Should I have said something different?"  "Is it bad that I'm slightly enjoying overhearing the neighbors playing Bruno Mars "Treasure".  "I shouldn't talk so much to the members after church, we should go contact instead."  "Am I praying right?"  "Is this the right lesson to teach?"  The list goes on and on.  The call is to be a representative of Jesus Christ.  The only perfect being to ever walk the earth.  How easy it is to pose the question, "What more do I lack?"

And so, as I walk in the blistering sun, dust covering my aching feet as we walk away from the tenth "Soy catolica" of the day, don't be surprised when I say that often the thought comes into my mind, "Life would be a lot easier if I wasn't a missionary."  But let me tell you, that thought is always quickly followed by another.

"His life could have been a lot easier too." 

The Savior had a choice too.  He had is agency.  He could have chosen another life.  But He remembered His calling.  He was rejected, spit upon, laughed at, and scorned.  Let's not forget that at one point, after experiencing so much rejection, He even turned to His apostles and asked them if they would leave Him too.  And as for being worthy of the Spirit, His whole life mission depended on it.  Not one single mistake could He make.  

Yes, my life could be a lot easier if I wasn't on a mission.  It could be a lot easier to sit at home, eat cookies, and see what's new on Pintrest.  

The mission is hard, because His life was hard.  The only things we can expect from a mission are not soccer jerseys, foreign candy, and a second language.  If we plan on stepping in His shoes, picking up His calling, and slapping His name on our chest every morning we better also expect to experience a little of the emotional, physical, and spiritual turmoil that He had to experience.  It's not fun.  It's not easy.  But it's love.  Love for Him and what He did for you and every other person that has and will ever live.  

If I learned anything during my time in Jerusalem it's that Christ was a lot more human than we think He was.  He wasn't  perfect because He was naturally born that way.  He had a choice.  I have a choice.  There's a reason why we've chosen this path.  It's hard.  But it's also the best thing worth doing in this life.

"Behold this is my work and my glory, to bring to past the immortality and eternal life of man."

SHOE EXPLANATION:

After 10 months my shoes finally quit on me.  They're really great and help me with my flat feet so I did my best to try and save them.  First I attempted krazy glue but that didn't work. Next step was the Plasti Loka that they use for patching up holes in the plumbing.  Thats what the green stuff is.  To avoid the apearance of gum on my shoe I decided to cover it up with good ole' sharpie.  Today we headed out and I was so sure that the Plasti loka would hold, but not five minutes of walking and it ripped open again.  It's hopeless.

That one time I got sick in Mexico, Part Tres

Raise your hand if youve ever been to Yellow Stone Park in Jacksonville, WY.  Now, if you raised your hand try to remember if you went to see Old Faithful.  That hole in the ground that people go to watch water spurt out of.  Its pretty neat to watch from a safe distance and with an ice cream cone in your hand.  Grand forces of Mother Earth at work.

Imagine that coming out of my mouth.  

I didnt even make it to the toilet.  As soon as Yellow shirt stepped out of the way there was no holding it back.  My eyes quickly located the shape of a toilet and I just aimed for it.  Hoping that the majority would make it into the bowl as I dropped to my knees.  Not even bothering to close the door behind me.  Old chicken wings, tortillas, ...used toilet paper surrounding me in that tiny, 3 by 4 cement bathroom.  Who cared.  Evil things had to get out of my stomach, and when I was done, with the little dignity I had left, wiped off my face with something that looked relatively clean, fixed a few stray hairs, and opened the door which I can only assume my companion so kindly closed for me.  As we walked out of the tienda I did my best to look really interested in all the piles of eggs and socks, hoping to give the impression that we entered the tienda with other intenciones than emptying my panza.

Just like before, I felt fine as we entered the street once more and headed in the direction to visit the now baptized, but then investigator, Sonia.  As we arrived I asked for a glass of water to help me chew the Pepto Bismol pills that my companion had bought me while I was.... occupied, in the tienda.  Medecine taken, we began to teach one of the most comfortable lessons ever, The Law of Chastity.  My comp started it off and I soon followed in with the doctrine.  As the Spanish words were coming out of my mouth, I felt that usually friendly, pink medicine turn on me.  I felt my face loose color once more and quickly finished my part as elegantly and calmly as possible before  excusing myself to the bathroom and letting Hna. Bautista finish of the lesson.

Three times a charm people.  

I dont think you need any more details than that.  I did my thing, calmly returned to the lesson, and we continued through the day.  In every lesson people mentioned how much paler I looked than my normal white girlishness.  I was miserable in every lesson despues (after) and nearly singing holy praises when we finally got home.  Attached is the lovely picture that my comp took as she laughed at my pitiful state.

"Death on a Stick"

So there it is. The one, and only, time I got sick in Mexico.  Knock on wood. I hope you all have enjoyed this trillogy nearly as much as I have enjoyed writing it.  Perhaps I will make it into a movie when I get back.  It could do better than Twilight, thats for sure.

Hermana Pacheco

Neat thing about my birthday is that it fell on my mission Hump day as well as a P-day.  Talk about three birds with one stone.  Anyways, a slightly embarrassing tradition that the sister missionaries have here is that at the 9 month mark of the mish (or halfway point) they take a "pregnancy shot".  It's slightly clever, but more than slightly awkward.  Now don't start scrolling down to try and find my pregnancy shot because it's not there.  I was saved from taking this possible blackmail picture by actually giving birth to my first daughter!  Yep, at nine months I started training Hna. Pacheco.  Pretty cool how the timing works out.  At the same time, my trainer, Hna. Torres, gave birth a second time.  So I have a sister and Hna. Torres has a nieta!  We took a cute little family photo together.

Hermana Torres' Companion, Hermana Torres, Hermana Lance and Hermana Pacheco

So my time is short, but here are a couple fun facts about my tranie:

19 years old. Birthday: primero de Diciembre 

Hermana Pacheco

Is from Oaxaca Mexico

Has no idea how to ride a bike.

She joined the church with her younger brothers when she turned 12 years old.

Her parents aren't members, but since she's been out in the mish they have started attending church.

She drinks more milk than a baby calf

Eats more bananas than King Kong

And if she had a choice, she would eat frosted flakes all day e're day

She carries a small hand towel in her bag to wipe of the sweat from the heat.

Tired in her first week.

Tijuana Temple being built.

Guess what day it is...

Our refrigerator is filled with cake.  It's like a dream come true.  The best time to celebrate a birthday is during the mission.

I didnt expect anything special to happen on my birthday, other than it would be a P'day and I would be able to relax a little bit.  but Thursday we received a message from Miguel (who was baptized in July) asking if we could stop by Sunday night.  That was normal.  We nearly always visit him and his family Saturdays or Sundays to help him and his progress in the church as a resent convert.  He has the best of questions too!  Curiosity about patriarchal blessings, the 12 tribe of Israel, organization of the church authorities and other juicy church doctrine.  However, this night, instead of walking into a Spanish, doctrinal discussion, I found myself waking into a fiesta!  Miguel strumming on the guitar, Hna. Beatriz and Hna. Sobeida cooking gorditos in the kitchen, cake and presents on the table.

Miguel's Family

Best birthday ever.  The Elders even stopped by to join in the fun.  Laughing, talking, sharing stories, and food is always a great combination... no wonder they always have refreshments at ward activities.  Anyways, after eating gortitos it was time for the cake.  It was pastel de tres leches, my new favorite.  And they even had all 21 candles lit while they sang the Spanish version of Happy Birthday (a song that, to me, makes no sense what so ever.  It talks about king David and monkeys Im fairly sure).  After blowing out the candles (all in one breath I might add) everyone began to chant "Que lo muerde! Que lo muerde!"  And as I went in to bite the cake, Roberto, son of Hna. Sobeida, foolishly followed the counsel of the Elders and shoved my head further in.  They use the excuse that its another birthday tradition of Mexico...

Roberto in action!

Regardless, it was a fabulous night.  Even though I was in a completely different country than my blood family, I got to spend my birthday with other family.  I felt very loved and happy.  This is what the gospel is all about.  Bringing people together and uniting our spiritual family. The Paredes family is very close to my heart and it will be horrible when I have to leave Las Fuentes for another area, but that is the joy that the gospel brings.  That we will be able to see all of our friends and family again.

The next day, Monday, my actual birthday was quite simple but delightful as well.  After finishing our daily chores we had permission to visit the Macro Plaza and roam about.  Browsing the merchandise, but typical Hna. Lance, never having enough guts to buy anything but food.  What can I say?  You can never go wrong with food.  

When it was time to start working again in the afternoon we stopped by to visit Lupe and Rosalio, two investigators.  And guess what, they had scrambled together enough to have a cake there waiting for me as well!  It was a Hello Kitty cake, which I personally found quite humorous. 

The only downside to celebrating a birthday as a sister missionary is that all the men want to "felicitarle" with a hug.... sorry bro, but the mission rules say no.  Thats always a toughfy to explain.

Reached my Half Way mark on August 6th!

That one time I got sick in Mexico, Part Dos

It came out from the top.  You know, just in case you were curious.  I got to taste all that delicious chicken and salsa a second time, and when I was done, felt a new strength fill me.  I left that bathroom with a skip in my step, we said our Gracias for the meal, and headed back out to the street to work.  

About 5 minutes into our walk we passed by our favorite Senora de Raspados.  We're pretty tight with her.  She lets us sit and chill in her shade as we snack on our Raspados.  This time only Hna. Bautista got to enjoy the sweet goodness of those homemade snow cones.  I'm not so stupid as to eat a sugar-bomb only 5 minutes after emptying everything in my stomach, as she ate, we began to contact everyone else who passed by.  With each minute that passed by I felt someone turning up the bubble notch in my Jacuzzi stomach.  Bit by bit I began to talk less and slump lower and lower in my bucket seat by the side of the dusty road.  Within 10 minutes, my companion was the only one talking and others had begun to tell me how white I looked.  Now considering that I am significantly whiter than 99% of the people here, that's saying a lot.  So ending the contact we began looking for a place that could possibly sell that heavenly pink thing called Peptobismal.  

 Something that I love about Mexico is that the people here are very self reliant.  If they cant find a job, they make one up.  Selling, candy, tamales, tacos, ice-cream in the street, or creating their own tienda.  There are tiendas in literally every street.  Tiendas are like mini gas-stations... without the gas.  They have everything.  Potato chips, candy, soda, eggs, fruit about to go bad, toilet paper, and any other random thing that you think someone might need to by in an emergency.  Now think of that one time when your family went on a road trip.  To save time, they stopped by a Sonic for lunch and you ordered an extra large slushy.  Remember how about an hour later you were desperately pleading for your parents to stop at the nearest gas station to use the bathroom.  Coincidentally that happened to be the most nasty gas-station you have ever seen in your life but you had to do what you had to do and afterward did your best to erase that moment from your memory.  Okay, well now that you remember it, times that disgustingness about a hundred fold and you've got a typical Mexican tienda.

About 6 steps away from our last contact we came across a tienda.  Entering, my companion asked if they sold meds and I asked if they had a bathroom.  At this moment, the people began to move incredibly slow.  It was as though they weren't familiar with the word "bano" and didn't know where to turn.  But I couldn't wait for them.  Things were becoming urgent.  That sourer taste had become quite potent in the back of my throat and I knew I didn't have much time.  I kept telling my companion "ahora! bano ahora!"  hoping that hearing it with her Mexican accent would help them move faster.  I guess it worked because some guy in a yellow shirt emerged from a mound of tortilla chips and started guiding us through a maze of towers formed of paper-towels, dog food, cooking oil, and beans.  

But he couldn't walk fast enough!  I felt it coming up and there was no stopping it.  My hands flew to my mouth.  No not yet!  We havent even made it past the pile of pineapples!  My companion must have seen my body reflex and began to push me from behind as well.  But the yellow shirt was still in my way!  It started to come up again. No!  My hands pressed even harder against my mouth but even still, a few squirts came out through the fingers. Why wont he walk faster!  Does he not like his yellow shirt?  I guess I can make it ty-dye. Finally he moved, the doorway appeared, and I threw myself into the darkness once more.

To be continued...

That one time I got sick in Mexico

I had a really long track record.  For an American gal to come to Mexico, where youre not allowed to drink anything but bottled water, where there are more bugs than people living in your apartment, and where the people eat chili like sugar,  I lasted pretty long without getting sick.  Actually, thats being modest.  Ward members were AMAZED to see how spicy I liked to eat and to hear that I never got sick.  And as far as I know, I lasted the longest out of all of the Americans that came to Tijuana with me.  Okay, I will step down from my Rameumptem now.

But really.  It was impressive.

And then Heavenly Father had to kick me down from my high horse.

About a month ago, Hna. Bautista and I were chillin and sharing a message with Lucy (remember her? The convert).  Now Lucy has a ton of grapes growing in her backyard, and as we were getting ready to leave she cut us a couple clusters off the vine (grapes directly off the vine people, its pretty cool)  and handed them to us to snack on. 

Flash forward an hour or two.  We are in the house of Hna. Lulu to eat lunch.  Remember, lunch for Mexicans is like dinner for Americans in portion size.  And Hna. Lulu in particular likes to give extremely large portions of rice, chicken, and salsa.  Usually I can handle it.  I have also begun to pride myself in my ability to eat any size portion of food that the members give me (and every size is a BIG size).  However, in this moment my stomach had begun to evolve into a tiny Jacuzzi inside of me, hindering my appetite.  Nevertheless, I continued to eat.  Determined not to offend this kind sister by leaving a portion behind...  

It was probably one of the greatest struggles I have had, and will ever have in my life. 

But I did it.  I ate it all (and am now fully confident that I can win one of those pie eating contests at the country fair).  However, I could no longer deny that something wrong was happening inside of my body.  So I went to the bathroom, knowing that something had to come out of me.  Didnt know how it would come out, but I entered that dark and dingy cement bathroom with a firm determination to come out with a "lighter load"...

To Be Continued...

TJs vs. Mormons

It's funny how the spirit works sometimes.

A little over a month ago Hna. Bautista and I were desperate for investigators.  We had several contacts that we wanted to follow up on but they weren't seguros, so as we were walking away from another rejection Hna. Bautista started talking about a tienda that sat at the end of the street.  Apparently a few days before she had seen a couple of Jehovah Witnesses talking to whoever worked there.  We decided that if they were willing to listen to a couple of TJs (Testigos de Jehova), then they would be happy to listen to us.  So we went over, bought some cookies, and contacted Bryan.  He listened to us, we presented to him the Restoration, and he accepted a second visit.  

We did not baptize Bryan.  He likes learning about other religions, but doesn't have any plans to change his own in the near future.  When we went back for our second lesson, we met his aunt Sonia.  Instantly we hit it off.  She accepted a baptism date in that very first meeting and has agreed to everything that we have said since. 

Sometimes it was hard to tell exactly what Sonia thought about what we taught.  She doesn't express a lot of her emotions.  But when she does, it's always something very special.  She explained that even though she didn't understand all of the Book of Mormon, when she reads it, the way she feels nearly makes her cry.  All she wants to do is obey Dios

Sonia's Baptism

So Saturday

she was baptized.  And It was her birthday too!  Now she has signed up to feed the missionaries every week and brings her little grandson to church every week.  Through her he is learning how to pray and, well, everything!  Even though the rest of her family hasn't  shown an interest in the church, through her changes will happen.  The spirit will grow in her house, and she will touch even more lives.

And all because we felt a little competitive with the TJs.

A Divine Connection

Miguel is one cool cat.  

Why is he such a cool cat?  Well, quite simply because he speaks my language.  Literally, he knows a decent amount of English, but mas que eso, he studied Graphic Design, one of the many career fields that art has to offer.  And now he is looking into film directing.  All things creative and imaginative.  My kind of language.

One sunny Sunday Hna. Bautista and I were outside of the stake center, having just left a meeting with all the missionaries in the stake and the ward missionaries.  Hna. Beatriz, our ward missionary, kindly offered us a ride back to our apartment and as we approached her car, we met Miguel, her son, and our ride home.  She introduced us, and although he seemed skeptical about the situation, Miguel accepted an appointment for us to come by the house and teach.  And so it began.

He didn't make it easy.  Due to his work scheduled we could only meet with him Saturday and Sunday nights.  And Miguel is very... pensive.  He thinks deeply about a lot of things, which is great in some ways.  Like when we gave him chapters to read in the Book of Mormon, he almost always read them and  analyzed what they said and how they applied in his life.  But sometimes it caused difficulties, like having to explain to him why it is a resurrection instead of reincarnation.  but it has always been interesting, each lesson we've taught with every question he's had.

What surprised me the most has been his strong desire to find a clean connection with God.  Even before he met us he recognized that there were "laws of the universe" that we needed to follow to have a stronger "Channel" with whatever was this divine being.  That's what he was looking for.  We just had to tell him who He was, what were these leys (*cough*cough* the commandments), and why baptism was important to clear the "channel".   Of course, we didn't know that we were the answer to his internal prayer until after he told us.  It was very special to learn that we could be the tools that Heavenly Father used to help Miguel.

 

Miguel and Family

Miguel's Baptism

I love my job.

Oh, did I mention the fiesta we had after Miguel's baptism?  It was awesome! We had a chocolate fountain and brincolin just for us!!!  That's right, a bouncy house just for the elders, hermanas,  Miguel, and his brother Roberto.  I never thought that I would have so much fun in a bouncy house with a bunch of 20-30 year olds.  Not only did we jump, but believe it or not, we even played duck duck goose in there.  Quite fun really.  I highly recommend it for those of 20 year or older.

Best part of it all,  Hna. Beatriz has been praying for 3 years for her family to join the gospel.  Last October her husband was baptized.  Now Miguel.  All that's left is Roberto and then they have their eternal family. They've now become my family too.    

Chariot of Fire

Not this week, but the one before we received a new mission president.  Very much like Elijah, President Carreon and his family left us suddenly in their modern day chariot of fire, and President Garcia received his mantle to guide the Tijuana Mexico Mission.  

Farewell to President and Sister Carreon

It was hard to say good bye. 

Reason #1:  My first area was the ward of the mission president and his family so I got to know them pretty well.  We ate dinner with them Christmas eve and everything.

Reason #2:  He was really fond of my singing voice and often randomly asked me to sing in zone conferences.

Reason #3:  He always knew what to say and had an answer to every question.

Reason #4:  He watched me struggle with, and then overcome the obstacle of learning Spanish.

Reason #5:  As a Hermana.... I couldn't give him a hug goodbye.

There are other reasons why I love and miss President Carreon and his family, but I can't list them all now.  He was my president for nearly half of my mission.  But now President Garcia is here and I'm very excited to see what changes he will bring.

We had un consejo liderazgo last week and I had the opportunity to meet President Garcia and his wife.  One of the first things that he told us was how he acknowledged how President Carreon was like a father to all of us... which is true.  Well, President Garcia is quite a bit older and can't quite be compared to a father for us.  But it's for our benefit he said.... the grandparents always love us better then our parents do. :)  It was quite ironic that he said that actually, because he reminds me a lot of my Grandpa DelHoyo.  That's right, they have the same way of talking, sharing stories, and jokes.  It's kinda awesome.  Oh, and he lived in Detroit, Michigan for several years!  Instant connection with the Mission Prez!

So who know's what's going to happen in these next 10 months.  Changes, that's for sure.  But I like changes.  I like new things.  It will be hard to let go of the old, but that's what memories are for.  Time to turn a page and start writing a new chapter!

Diamond in the Rough

Ruby is 9 years old and very much like our friend Aladdin, a diamond in the rough.  This sweet, very shy, little girl was piled underneath a large family of less actives and non members.  We've been teaching her since I arrived here in Fuentes, and it has not been easy.  It took a lot of digging and polishing to get this ruby to shine.  For starters, it's hard for her to remember things, so we had to teach lessons over and over and over again... and then one more time just to make sure she got it.  But couple that with how shy she is... she hardly ever spoke when we asked her questions and never liked praying in public.  Trying to get her to church on Sundays was another thing all together.  With an alcoholic, non member father who kept her less active mother from going on Sunday, we were left with only the support of her cousin, an R.M., and the only active member of her family.  Oh, and did I mention that we had to get permission to baptize Ruby from her father that didn't want anything to do with the church (trust me we tried teaching him).

But we did it.  I still can't believe it, honestly.  There were times, especially in that last week before her baptism, when I thought of washing my hands from the situation and saying, "Alright, Padre Celestial, you want her to get baptized?  You make it happen.  I ain't got nothin' left."  And if there is anything we can learn from the scriptures it's that if you taunt God with your hand of a full house, He'll show you His 20 stacks of pure Aces.  But I'm not one for card games so if that analogy doesn't make since....well, you get my point.  He made it work.  All the tiny, oddly shaped puzzle pieces managed to fit together an Ruby was baptized and confirmed.

Ruby will be an example for her family.  Even though she had a hard time remembering everything we taught, she never faltered in her desire to be baptized.  She new it was important and regardless of what others said she wanted it to happen.  Through her, her family will reactivate, and her dad will join the church.  I just know it.

Ruby's Baptism

If Johnny Depp were a missionary....

Cipriano is that old man in your favorite television series that doesnt have a main part but is always there to say some random thing to make you smile.  I should also mention that he has a fake eye.  It took me awhile to figure out what was different when I first met him, but once I noticed it, it was obvious.  While one eye is bouncing around all over the place, making eye contact and expressions, the other one just sits there.  It´s spooky, but hilarious at the same time.  When I finally figured out that it was fake my brain instantly went into Pirates of the Caribbean mode.  Wondering if he ever popped it out to give it a good cleaning or if it was a key token to enter into a secret Tijuana drug dealing club.  But no, he´s just an adorable old man that no matter how many times you remind him, "It´s Hna. Lance." he´ll keep calling you, "mi hija."

We found Cipriano visiting a sister in the ward.  We had hopes of finding and teaching her nonmember daughter but discovered her equally non member husband instead.  It has been an interesting journey teaching Cipriano.  Not only have we been teaching him the gospel, but how to read and write again too.  That is quite fun.  With glasses filled with strawberry flavored Fanta (no matter how many times we tried to tell them that we only wanted plain water they insisted on soda.  I´m quite certain that my liver has permanent soda damage now)  we used the lesson pamphlets and had him search for and circle certain words or letters.  He also has a little notebook in which we leave him words or phrases to practice writing..... which happen to always be related to the gospel.  Names of commandments, parts of prayer, his baptismal date.  I promise it´s not mental manipulation... :)

The greatest challenge for Cipriano was the Word of Wisdom.  He has been smoking for over 40 years, which is why he has lost all of his front teeth and it´s quite difficult to understand him.  But in the 5 weeks in which we worked with him he managed to quit it.  Coffee too.  That was a of miracle due to prayer, fasting, and priesthood blessings.  I´ll admit that my faith wavered a little bit in this aspect because Cipriano, as similar to a little boy filled with sugar as he is,  is quite old and forgets himself sometimes.  You ask him what he needs to do to follow a certain commandment and he´ll respond the same way for each one, "Hacer buenas cosas y obedecer a Dios."   Which caused me to worry that when someone offered him a cigarette or cup of coffee he would accept out of habit.  And that happened at first.  But as the weeks went by the cigarette and coffee smell disappeared.

Cipriano was jumping and running around his baptismal day.  The bishop (who gave him the blessing to help him stop smoking) baptized him and now in one year, when the temple here in Tijuana is completed, he and his wife can enter and be sealed for time and eternity!

Cipriano's Baptism!

Fun Pictures

Mission Newletter with all the new callings which includes Sister Training Leaders.

all of the zone leaders and sister training leaders with President Carreon and his wife

this is what happens when you put 4 american missionaries together

the Tijuana Temple!  it's coming along nicely

the best tacos de pescado joint in town.

Tortas!

Los Elderes y una Eldera!