making changes

Dear Family,

I recently remembered that I neglected to tell about our trip to Cumbe Mayo two weeks ago. I believe the only detail I mentioned is that we piled 14 missionaries and 3 members into a pick-up truck. The three members were in the front seat, five elders in the back seat, and nine of us in the pick-up bed. I was seated on a plank towards the back of the truck, facing rearward. Apparently there's nothing illegal about overfilling the car: we drove through populated parts of Cajamarca only receiving a few weird looks. We drove uphill until the city was far, far below us, and eventually it disappeared from view. I took several pictures from the back of the truck (trying not to let my camera fall off the side and into the abyss), but spent most of the time trying not to fall off myself. After an hour of that, we arrived at Cumbe Mayo. The site received its fame for having some ancient engravings on a rock. (It reminded me a lot of the movie "The Road to El Dorado"). We crawled through a hole in the mountain and came through on the other side. Then we took a break and played soccer (in grass!!) and ultimate frisbee at a field next to the ancient ruins. Unfortunately, Cumbe Mayo sits at an altitude of 10-12,000 feet. Needless to say, we were quite out of breath.

We continued the tour and discovered some two-thousand-year-old canals that still flow with water from the mountain rains. There were also some reputed "sacrificial altars," but I didn't hear it from anybody with authority. I suppose it's possible. All in all, the ruins were fascinating.

This week in Cajamarca was something special. Our Mission President informed us of new goals, including daily contacts, new investigators, baptismal dates and baptisms. We weren't satisfied with the results from the previous week, so we did some brainstorming in our planning session to make the week more productive and to reach the goals we set. We made a plan, then we knelt down presented it to the Lord. Afterwards, we made a few changes and went to work. Every night, we spent twice as much time planning out our day: we planned so that every 15 minutes we knew what we would be doing. At the end of the week, our results had doubled (and tripled in one area) from the previous week. This week we need to do even more to reach the goals we've set, but at least we have the planning down.

We've talked to more people this week than any other week in my mission. Every day I wrote myself an inspiration line in my planner to keep myself motivated to talk to everyone. I've found that the more people I talk to, the happier I am at the end of the day. "The truth of God will go forth boldly, nobly and independently, till it has sounded in every ear..." I'm excited to share the Gospel with so many people who just haven't heard a thing about it.

The Restoration of the Gospel is the greatest news the world has ever known. When I think about it, it's the most profound announcement since the Ressurrection of the Savior almost 2,000 years ago. The heavens are open and God is extending his kingdom over all the earth. What so many people have been (and still are) searching for over the years is now within their reach. There's a living prophet who speaks with God today (and he's going to speak this week!). I've never heard more exciting news in all my life!

I'm glad to hear that everyone is healthy and safe. You're in my prayers!

Love,
Elder Withers

rain

Dear Family,

It's dumping buckets at the moment in Cajamarca: I admit that rain is delightful when you're not in it. We walked here and entered just as it was starting to pick up - the thunder rattled over our heads (unfortunately one can't find the lightning) and we watched the ominous grey clouds approach from the North. Whew, I neglected to mention that this building has a tin roof (the rain just got really noisy for a minute there).

We had a fun service project this week - it was another cieling job. It involved mixing the cement (this time we had a machine to do it for us), pouring it into buckets, then hauling the buckets up the stairs and dumping them out on the "roof." (I say "roof" because we're actually making the roof/cieling in the process - it's temporarily supported by wood planks and beams.) It's a good workout, at least. We filled the entire area of the cieling in about an hour and a half, after which my shoes were covered in mud and cement. While we cleaned off, a small water-fight took place (it might have been bigger with access to running water and a hose, but we didn't enjoy such amenities).

Saturday night, we put on a "Noche de Cine" (that's "Cinema Night") and invited members and investigators to enjoy popcorn and a movie. The setup had a few obstacles, but we eventually found the right cords and got the sound and video all hooked up and ready to go. There weren't quite as many in attendance as I had hoped for, but nobody complained about wanting more popcorn - I'd call it a success, at least in terms of logistics. We put on "Remember the Titans," and the small crowd seemed to enjoy it. We had to accompany an investigator back to their house and then come back to help clean up (popcorn + small children = big mess). Since we started late, we got back to our room much later than we wanted to. However, after a quick dinner, that allowed us to fall asleep right when we got into bed.

Speaking of bed, our apartment here is a bit different than the ones I've been in before. It's the same in that the walls and cieling are concrete (but this room has a floor instead of bare concrete! hooray!), but instead of two separate beds, we have a bunk bed. I sleep on the bottom bunk, and I stay warm with three 100%-wool blankets. Our pensionista rents the rooms right next to ours, so walking to breakfast after studying doesn't involve going outside anymore (which is a real blessing, since it is frigid in the mornings).

We had some really special lessons on Tuesday this week. We came to the house searching for someone we had contacted last week, but we only found their son and his cousin. After a little conversation, they invited us in and we explained the Restoration of the Gospel. [side note, the rain just picked up speed: I can't hear myself think! We're going to have a wet walk home, I fear.] It was fascinating to see how it moved their hearts. The younger of the two expressed his desire to be a part of it as well as his doubts about his personal ability, struggling to express his feelings. It was clear that the Spirit had touched them powerfully. We left that lesson nearly running to get to our next appointment (to which we were a half hour late), and taught the first half of the Plan of Salvation. The investigator told us how the last time we taught had filled a void in her heart, and she was ready and willing to listen to what more we had to say. The Spirit was powerful there, too; we had to leave early, since it was approaching 9pm, and the mother of the investigator (who had been giving us suspicious looks the last time we were there) was upset that we were leaving so soon. There's only one Source for such a profound change of heart: the working of the Holy Ghost through faith in Jesus Christ. I absolutely love the way the Gospel works.

I testify that the Gospel of Jesus Christ is the only way we can find happiness in this life. There is no other source of peace and hope anywhere in the world. We had a perfectly clear, starry night yesterday, and it bore a powerful witness into my heart that the Lord created this earth as well as those telestial lights. I've seen a few miracles in my mission; nevertheless, I've felt even more miraculous changes inside my heart.

Thank you for your encouragement and faith in your prayers on my behalf and on behalf of all the other missionaries in the field. I'm happy to hear of the success you're enjoying in school and sports! Keep it up! (The sun will come out soon, and if it doesn't: those who practice in the rain win in the rain.)

Love,
Elder Withers

Cajamarca

Dear Family,

We're at internet at the last minute (that being 5-6pm), having spent the whole day in other parts. I'll do my best to make it quick, but the keyboard is different: it has a "ç" button where the other half of the backspace button should be, along with the other usual abnormalities such as the "ñ" where the semicolon ought to be, and "¿" where the hyphen button normally sits.

We left for Cajamarca on a Linea bus at 10:30pm Wednesday night. I managed to pack my smaller suitcase into the medium-sized one, which made it easier to keep track of my baggage. I was assigned the seat on the second floor, right in front of the big window. Practically in the driver's seat, except he was on the first floor. The two elders traveling with me were at my side and the seat behind us. There weren't any other people up front with us, so I tossed my backpack into the seat at my right. I couldn't get to sleep for the first 30 minutes or so, thanks to a television screen directly above my head that was showing an all-too-interesting documentary of some nearly-extinct Peruvian birds and crocodiles. I covered my face with my pillow, but hearing the words made me all the more anxious to look. But they eventually turned it off, along with the lights, and the people in the back of the bus began to snore obnoxiously. I tilted my seat back all the way and slept until 12:30.

Around 12:30am, I woke up in a cold sweat - I assume it was connected to the bumpiness of the ride. I ate the sandwiches and cookie the travel attendant had left me, and I drank the glass of nearly-flat (also due to bumpiness) Sprite that I had left waiting back when we started the journey. I opened the front curtain and watched the bus driver play dodge-the-pothole for a half hour or so, and after that lost its excitement, I fell back to sleep.

When I woke up again, around 5am, the bus was stopped. I asked around, and I was told there had been a "derrumbe" (that's "landslide"), and we were waiting for the highway to be cleared. It was still pitch dark out, but I could see a mountainous horizon barely through the faint light of the approaching dawn (and the less-faint light of the headlights of stopped cars and buses). When I determined that there was nothing I could do to change the situation, I took to sleeping and studying my scriptures - as it was about that time of day. The sunrise revealed a brilliant green slope that descended cliff-like to the right side of the bus, and in front of us, the large hill that had managed to decay into our intended path. At about 7:30am, we started moving again, and we drove over the little mound of dirt that remained after the hard work of the clean-up crew. Twenty minutes later, we arrived at the bus station in Cajamarca.

Cajamarca is a Peruvian treasure, well-known for its beautiful landscape, its torrential rains, and its historical background. It's the legendary site where Atahualpa, the (last, I believe) Incan Emperor was captured by Spanish invaders. (Somebody can Google that information; I can't.) It sits in a slight valley in the Andes Mountains, at an elevation of about 7,000 feet. The majority of people who live here work in the mine, some several-thousand feet more up in the hills. It receives all the rain that Trujillo might have received (if the mountains weren't there), and the streets are engineered with deep canal-like gutters to direct the water downhill and into the river. Unfortunately, said gutters are more shallow at intersections, and the water can escape and create large puddles that are not easily crossed by foot. Many a wet shoe and sock have been lamented because of such puddles.

The people are delightful. Our area includes part of the city and part of the agricultural areas outside the defined city limits. The farther out you go, the more you find what one might consider a native stereotype: men and women with large sombreros, wearing multi-colored, Alpaca-hair shawls, skirts, ponchos and other clothing items. Some pass by often with an infant strapped to their back using similar materials. The mountain folks have a fun accent, and they are quite friendly and welcoming. In the city, we don't receive such a warm welcome at times; but that's part of missionary work.

Trujillo is called the "city of eternal springtime." I'd call Cajamarca the "city of eternal indecision." It's frigid and wet for part of the day, and when the sun comes out, it's bright, burning, and hot. I went to the roof yesterday during our study time to warm up my feet, and my face was red after ten minutes of sunshine. Then it started to rain, so I went back to our room. They tell me that the rains stop in April, so we'll see. They say this is Winter here, but I'm still confused about how the seasons are defined. I'll keep asking about that.

The members are excited and helpful in missionary work here, so I'm excited to be thrown into a ward that has that spirit and excitement. On Saturday, I got to help the Relief Society in their anniversary celebration by accompanying them in a musical number. The Relief Society President works in the Cajamarca National University, so she pulled some strings to get a group of singers to come and perform, too. They dressed in black, Renaissance-fair clothes (tights and all), and played a few guitars, a tamberine, and what looked to me like a lyre (but if not, it was a form of stubby guitar with ten or twelve strings). They sang and danced and told jokes, which proved to be great entertainment; I was impressed.

My companion, Elder Rojas, was companion of Elder Tapia (who I just left) about a year ago. We not only have that in common, but what everyone told me is true: Elder Rojas likes to study doctrine. It makes for enjoyable and productive companionship study, and I learn new things every day. (The members of my zone call my companion "Pastor.") We get along well, and we're determined to find families to teach about the Restored Gospel.

Alright, my time and my capacity to remember more details is running out, but I'd like to share a little experience before I'm done. It hit me in the afternoon after arriving here that I'm hundreds of miles (or kilometers, depending on how you look at it) from my Mission President, my old companions, and what I've considered home for the last few months. I felt a little isolated, with an empty, out-in-the-middle-of-nowhere feeling. The cold and rain - though I expressed sincere excitement to see rain again - didn't help cheer me up, either. So I knelt down and sought solace in prayer. I poured out my feelings to my Heavenly Father and asked for courage to face the trials that would come my way. I asked that I could learn from the challenges and grow from the experiences I would have. And He filled me with the enthusiasm to give it my all. I could complain about the cold and rain - or I can be grateful that it's not blazing hot. And when the sun comes out, it's more than warmth: the sky is the clearest blue I've ever seen, and the mountains are covered in grass, trees, and other plants I've only seen in Dr. Seuss books. It's magnificent, and I love it here.

Thank you all for your letters and prayers. And don't worry about me being in the jungle somewhere: they normally only send us to places where there's water, electricity, internet, phone, and other amenities. There are no mosquitos here, and all is well. I'm getting used to the altitude by playing soccer for an hour every other morning.

Today, we piled 14 missionaries and 3 members into a Toyota Hulix 4x4 and took an hour drive to some ancient Incan ruins. I'm out of time, so I'll tell about that adventure next week.

Love,
Elder Withers

faith, works, and grace (moving mountains and moving to the mountains)

Dear Family,

This week was the last one of this transfer, and Friday night brought the surprising news that I'm again to leave an area after 3 months. I'm headed off to a place called Cajamarca (Cajamarca Stake, Chontapaccha Ward), a city in the mountains that lies some 6-7 hours north-north-east of Trujillo. From what I hear, it's a land where the surrounding mountains are green, the rains are frequent and powerful, and the earth flows with milk and honey (presumably purchased without money and without price). The rains this summer have been especially bad such that some highways are closed, so we might have to go the long way there - I'm not sure exactly how many more hours that will take, but I'm consoled by the fact that it won't be a ride in one of the sardine-can-with-wheels buses that I'm accustomed to riding here in the city. Just about every missionary I've talked to has dreamed of going to Cajamarca, so I'm excited to get my chance. I'll find a way to send some pictures home the long way so that you can see for yourselves if the views are as breathtaking as they say.

On Saturday, we had another "Dia de Gracia" in a neighboring zone (one of the most dangerous zones in Trujillo, they say). We started out the morning with a service project at a local library/cultural center. They directed us to the vacant lot next door - also owned by the center - and we began to clear the rocks that were scattered throughout the lot and pile them up near the road. Then we - that is, some sixteen missionaries and seven local Priesthood leaders, two wheelbarrows, five shovels, and two rakes - commenced leveling the rather lop-sided lot of sand. After four hours of hard work, we were rewarded with cold beverages and pulled chicken sandwiches. My companion and I went with the companionship from the area to their room and showered (after emptying two pounds of sand from my shoes), then ran back to the church for lunch. As might be reasonably understood, we were positively exhausted before hitting 3pm, at which hour we divided up with the Priesthood brethren to go visit less-active members.

We had a list of about twenty families and individuals to visit, but very few were home. After two and a half hours of walking, knocking doors, and asking neighbors if they knew anybody named Ademar, Celinda, or any family with the last names Parimango, Polo, or Sanchez, we began the long walk back to the church. We stopped by one member's home to drop off a package that had been given us, and she invited us in and to take a seat (at such invitation, I think the entire party felt to cry for joy - both to rest the aching feet and to be able to share the light we had been sent to shine). We sang a hymn ("Yo sé que vive mi Señor") and we bore our testimonies of the mission and life of Jesus Christ, then left with a prayer. It may not have seemed like much, a 7-minute interview during three and a half hours of being out, and the only person who let us into their home: but I was determined to be successful and not get discouraged. We brought the Spirit into a home that didn't even have electricity. And it's amazing what a simple testimony of the Savior's love can do to lighten the bearer's spirit. Despite the discouraging circumstances and physical fatigue, I was able to wear a smile the whole afternoon. I guess there's a reason why they call it a "day of grace" ("it is by grace that we are saved, after all we can do").

As I said good-bye to people this week, I was impressed by the faith of the few people who joined the church during my time in Pueblo Libre. One of them is an elderly man named Heradio, who, approaching the age of 79 this month, has shown youthful excitement in being a new member of the church. When I told him I was leaving, he expressed his thanks and his original feelings upon meeting the missionaries, that he didn't really think of coming to this church. I'm happy to report that he hasn't missed a day of church in 5 months. Another wonderful example was a young woman named Xiomara. Although she suffers from a physical impediment (not obvious, but such that it causes her to feel different than the rest), she has become friends with the youth in the church and faithfully comes to meetings, seminary, mutual, and even shares the Gospel with her friends and neighbors. The youth in the ward have shown exceptional love, reaching out and inviting their peers to come to church and seminary, consoling them in their trials and forming lasting relationships. It makes me want to be in the youth programs all over again: that's where the greatest miracles happen.

It's another bittersweet moment as I pack my things and get ready to head to a new place with new people, but I'm confident that the Lord will be teaching me even more how to be an instrument in His hands. I'll be writing next week from somewhere in Cajamarca, so I'll let you all know what it's like. Thank you for the sustaining influence provided by your prayers, thoughts, and encouraging letters.

Love,
Elder Withers

Perù mìo ("my Peru")

Dear Family,

We just got back from the mall, where we withdrew our monthly funds for the house, pension, transportation, laundry, and other expenses. We took advantage of the moment by eating at the food court - I had a quesadilla burger that turned out pretty nice. The mall is the closest I've gotten to the USA culture I'm used to.

It's a hot one again today, though we did have a cloudy day or two this week. I'm not sure what the temperature is to be exact, but I'd say somewhere around 27 or 28°C (they use the metric system here, which I actually find rather convenient) - between 79 and 81°F or thereabouts.

In making some street contacts here in Pueblo Libre, we talked to a man named Justo Moreno. His family was taking a walk and heading down the same hill we were (though I believe we had set out to return to our room to use the "servicios higienicos"), and we began talking. The sun was setting over the Pacific Ocean in the distance - when the sky turns pink and orange, and the waters purple, reflecting the sunlight off the waves so far away - and I commented on how beautiful it was. We took down his name and address and came by later in the week, discovering that the address he gave us was that of a private school (including "inicial," "primaria," and "secundaria" - or preschool, elementary, and high school equivalents; middle school doesn't exist here) called "Jesus Mi Salvador." Justo let us in, and we talked for a little while. He offered us his facilities for anything we needed, and said that he wanted to have a meeting with all the parents of his students and invite us there. That was pretty neat. He is a friendly, Catholic man, and he talked with missionaries a long time ago. We'll have to wait a week or two in order to see exactly where this goes.

It's March in Peru, and if you take the 6-month difference (occasioned by the tilt of the earth and its orbit around the sun) of time and season, it's something like September in the USA. Therefore, school started today. In Peru, preschool is often skipped. Students enter kindergarten (called "jardìn" here - or just "garden") whenever their parents decide their children are old enough. Including that year, the "primaria" is six years in total, the same as elementary school was for me. When a student finishes fifth grade, they have a graduation party (well, I suppose there's nothing wrong with the celebration of education). They then enter "secundaria," which is equivalent to high school, but is 5 years long. Depending on the age one starts, one can graduate at the age of 15 or 16 (with another party, naturally).

The culture of coming-of-age is a little different here, too. When a young woman turns 15, she has a "quinceañero" (a "fifteener," you could say), which is a large, fancy, birthday party; it includes formal dress, invitations and lots of Salsa dancing. They tell me that 18-year-old men receive the same treatment, but I'm not aware of a word for it and I haven't seen any pictures.

I'm in love with Peru and its people. It almost feels like home. I'm happy to be serving the Lord here, and even when it's hard I love every minute. It's phenomenal what the Lord is making of us through every experience of every day.

Love you,
Elder Withers