some little adventures

Dear Family,

It was an adventurous week. Almost a bit too adventurous, I'd say. But I enjoyed it! A little adventure does one good every now and then. I've taken the oft-repeated advice of writing down the things that happen on a daily basis in a quick note in my daily planner so that I know what to write about this week. You'll now get to see what things stuck out to me each day.

Tuesday night, we lit a candle in our room and enjoyed a Peruvianized version of s'mores, using Choko Soda crackers (that's your normal soda cracker with a delightful chocolate coating) and some colorful marshmallows that we found at a little store nearby. The snack was relatively cheap and didn't cause the singed hair and smoky smell of the usual bonfire approach. It was my companion's idea.

We had five baptismal interviews to perform on Wednesday. We left our room at 9am and hopped a car to Casma (an hour south of Nuevo Chimbote where we live, cost: 6 soles, about $2, a person). Arriving at 10ish, we had a little companionship problem to fix; while Elder Caviedes handled that, I went with another Elder to perform the baptismal interview. Walking all over the place, plus little delays here and there, we finally hopped another car back to Nuevo Chimbote. We got back in time for lunch, then had our planned appointment in the afternoon with Patricia, who was preparing for baptism the next day. She's a 40-year-old woman whose husband passed away a few years back; she has two sons: the older is 17, the younger is 10. We taught about Temples and Family History, and she really enjoyed that.

As soon as we left that lesson, we ran and hopped another car to San Jacinto, a little town about 40 minutes south-east of Nuevo Chimbote - like you're going to Casma then take a left halfway down the highway. My companion took care of that interview, and we took that last car back to Nuevo Chimbote. Luckily, we found a car who wouldn't charge an arm and a leg (cost to go to or from San Jacinto is 5 soles a person); furthermore, he didn't spare the gas flying down the highway. We got back right in time for three more interviews at 8pm. Unfortunately, the candidates were a little slow in showing up, and Elder Caviedes had to go out to call the mission president (former missionaries understand why), so we went running to find the nearest Locutorio where we could call from. We ended late, but everyone passed their interviews. Hooray!

Thursday night we had a baptismal service. Patricia was baptized (my companion did the baptizing), and another sister, Ana Cecilia, was also baptized (I performed that ordinance). In her family, there are 5 girls, all named Ana. Ana Maria, the oldest, lives in Lima with her family. Ana Cecilia is the next one down, with two children, then follow Ana Luisa, Ana Consuelo, and Ana Sofia. There were a few of the Anas in attendance at the baptism of their sister: we're hoping they'll get excited to take that step as well.

Friday was just so crazy that I can't include the details or I'd be here all night. To make things short, we had a zone conference with Elder Hooker, a counselor in the South America West Area Presidency. The meeting was fantastic, and even better was the little interview my companion and I got to have with him afterwards. Since a bunch of elders came from a long ways away (like Casma and San Jacinto), we had 6 extra missionaries sleeping in our room. It was a little rough, but we managed to sleep well enough.

Saturday morning, we weeded the garden out in front of the Anas' house. Their flower bush was in need of pruning, too, so we took care of that. Before the end of the day, we talked with Alex, our pensionista's son-in-law. He told us how he has been taking his Book of Mormon to work with him, and when he reads, it takes away the fear that he had before when working in some dangerous places. His excitement helped him accept a goal to be baptized within the next week or so. I love the Book of Mormon!

Alright, time's running out. Thanks for writing and praying for me!

Love,
Elder Withers

busy!

Dear Family,

Since last week's letter didn't survive, I've got a million things to write and very little time to write them. Here goes:

I am now in the Chimbote Sur Zone, serving as a zone leader with Elder Caviedes, who was my district leader (and then zone leader) in Esperanza. It's his last transfer in the mission, but he's (thankfully) in love with the work and determined to finish strong. The last few days have been the busiest of my mission. There are 24 missionaries in our zone, 4 of which are sisters. They're planning (with good reason, I believe) to divide the stake, which is comprised of 11 or 12 wards and 1 or 2 branches. That should happen during the Stake Conference in September.

On my third day here, we had a wedding-baptism for a woman who was living together with a member. Her children are all active members, and we've been working with her husband to help him come back. They were married (which is not the easiest thing to do here, I'm coming to realize) in the morning, walked across the street to the church and straight into the baptismal font. I thought it mighty convenient that the church was built with such proximity to the "municipalidad" (assuming that the church building was built more recently). We didn't stay around for the cake-cutting, latin dancing, and other pleasures that might have distracted us, because we had things to do. But the best of it all was that we didn't have to do anything for the baptismal service. Our ward mission leader took care of all the assignments, speakers, and everything. All we did was bring the white clothing for the sister being baptized, and after the ordinance was performed, we plugged in the TV and put on a spiritual movie while the participants got dried and dressed.

I'm in the Gedeòn Ward, and I like it. I felt like I was at conference when I went to church yesterday. I sat in the very back row (miles, it seemed, from the pulpit) next to an investigator who came just after the start of the meeting. There was a piano, but I didn't have to play it. The Stake President lives in our ward, and his twin sons (17 years old) both play the piano well enough to read hymns. However, since I was new, I was invited to bear my testimony before the congregation, which made me feel special.

On Saturday, we had a "dìa de gracia" in our ward. Fourteen missionaries and the presidencies of the ward organizations (with only a few absences) went on splits to visit every member of the ward, extending invitations to the less-active members to come back to church. I went out with the 2nd Counselor in the Bishopric, and my companion went with the ward mission leader. After three hours of being out, we came back to the chapel to share our experiences and collect the results and referrals and to enjoy some light refreshments. We took advantage of the presence of two of our district leaders and had two baptismal interviews right after the end of the activity. One woman interviewed has two little kids - the oldest, Christian, will turn 5 shortly, and the younger, Fabricio, is one and a half. A member woman took charge of the stroller (in which was seated Fabricio, awake but calm) while Elder Caviedes and I busied ourselves with keeping Christian from interrupting the interviews. Eventually, the member with the stroller had to leave, so she passed me the reins. Out on the soccer court, Christian climbed up on the stroller, holding on to the sides (facing backwards), and I took them for a bit of a ride. Unfortunately, that position gave Fabricio just too much ease in grabbing at, hitting, and otherwise disturbing his older brother's face. So I had to get creative to keep Christian from starting a fight. I used my imagination and started to think like a little kid again. It was delightful, but shortly I was exhausted from pushing them all over the place. Finally their mom came out of the interview and we got to go home and rest. I was exhausted when we got in, but I was happy. I don't think I ever feel so happy as when I've given everything I've got in just one day.

I'm working on getting letters out, but I don't have much time today, so I'd like to say thanks to everyone who sent me a birthday letter or package. Your individual "thank yous" will arrive in a month or two. It seems that by turning twenty, my receding hair line has decided to redouble its efforts. Oh well. Oh, my companion just pulled up our area on Google Earth. Looks like we're going to have a better map now!

I absolutely love this work! I'm about to hit the year mark, but it should just give me more desire to give my all. I've been using dental floss every day for more than a year (that's about 105 meters of floss)! This morning, I finished reading the Book of Mormon in English again. I started about 2 weeks ago, getting up at 5 in the morning and reading for an hour in the bathroom (so that the light wouldn't bother my companion). I still haven't been able to find a better hour for reading. And with some new responsibilities in the mission, our study time is often interrupted (we have a telephone that never gets a break). I love the Book of Mormon! Slow or fast, in order or from any chapter or book, or the life of any prophet - it's the best!

Love,
Elder Withers

transfers

Dear Family,

Just know that I wrote a nice, long letter this week and tried to send it, but the e-mail had an error and failed to send, but rather got lost into cyberspace. For a quick recap: I'm healthy, I'm 20, and I'm going to Chimbote Sur (fish town) this week because I'm being transferred again.

And my companion would request that Tia scan and send me the piano music to Hercules.

Love,
Elder Withers

still a teenager

Dear Family,

As I understand it, I'm still a teenager until this Thursday. After that, I imagine I'd fall into the category of a "tweenager" or "twenty-ager", which are rather unused - or perhaps nonexistent - terms, a status likely stemming from the fact that we don't upset the rest of society (or our parents) enough to merit an all-encompassing designation. One can easily sigh, place the hand (with exasperation) over the brow and mutter, "Ugh, teenagers," in an effort to place the blame on the population of teenagers as a whole, rather than solely on the individual.

I'm also noticing a different voice shining through in my vocabulary. Forgive the irregularity: it's not because I'm fulfilling another year of life and trying to show off the "one year older and wiser, too" charade, but I have, in fact, been spending a little more time than usual in the last few days reading Jesus the Christ. Those familiar with Elder Talmage's writing style will forgive the abnormality.

We celebrated Independence Day with a work visit. Elder Szekely came to my area, and we worked together and had a great day. We had a back-up plan written down so that if our appointments fell through, we'd stop by a member's home - one who had confirmed that he had some fireworks lying around and had offered to do some ceremonial burning on our behalf - and celebrate a few minutes. Nevertheless, our original plans failed to fail. A certain door that we had planned to knock revealed a very interested gentleman (named Jaime Leyva) who invited us in with very few preliminaries. We shared the Restoration message and focused on the Book of Mormon. His three-year-old daughter was somewhat restless during the lesson, but she was silent - it seemed she was trying to make the pillows from the couch stand up on end to create a wall that she could hide behind (which, as I imagine, was for the purpose of not having to meet our gaze). She had little success, because though she managed to get two standing up, the third pillow would upset the balance of the other two and send the whole pile toppling over. All in all, it was a pleasure to see a man who took such interest in his daughter and his family, and it was more than a pleasure to share with him what he needs to know so that such joy will last forever.

About three months ago, when it appeared that my journal was running low on remaining pages, I bought a notebook full of blank (that is, without lines) pages. When I decided that it just wouldn't do as a second journal, I began to wonder about what I could write in it. Few things fill me with more fascination than a blank notebook, strange as it seems. I began to reflect on a passage in my Patriarchal Blessing, which urged me to remember the traditions and blessings I was able to see in my family as I grew up. In my new notebook, I began to write freely about the memories of my childhood and as a teenager. I wrote down some traditions that happened every week, every day, or every holiday season, then jotted down some specific events that had made a difference in my life. Up till the present, I've continued to record memories that come to me during lessons that I feel inspired to share in order to give personal experience and power to the principles we teach. Those memories now include some that I've experienced on the mission, as well as stories of faith of people I've been privileged to teach. This week, we had a lesson with a less-active mother who told us about the difficulties she and her (non-member) husband have been having with their teenage son. We were hoping to find Carlos (the husband) at home, but he wasn't there and we were about to leave after sharing a few thoughts. However, at the last moment, he came in and began to talk with us. Since we hadn't talked to him before, our conversation had to do with political and economic issues, traditional meals and dances from our respective homes, and the values that our countries tended to instil in their rising generation. We got to talking about the "American Dream," and somehow came to my own personal experience about the dreams and aspirations I had as a child, and the motivation my parents had given me in seeking to fulfill them. That's when I came to a point I had written about in the afore-mentioned journal. I don't bring the notebook with me, but I remembered the important details for having written them down. I shared specifically a few things that Dad did with us kids, including the times when he would come visit us at school and give oreos to all of our friends at lunch, or the tradition we had of going to the public library just about every Sunday afternoon and hauling home a stack of books for the week. Carlos was more than impressed. I was, too. In the moment, I said that nobody's dad was more "chèvere" (that's the best translation I could give for "cool," as we teenagers might say it) than mine.

Well, after reading all those wonderful Happy Birthday e-mails and writing about memories from home, I'm feeling slightly trunky. So I want to share what I really know. I was reflecting this morning on the witness of the Spirit that we rely upon for the formation of our personal testimonies. A common thought of mine is that our Father in Heaven doesn't desire to answer our prayers through signs, visions, dreams, or outrageous circumstances for the sole reason that one can doubt the source of those responses. As missionaries, we often share the scripture in Galatians 5:22-23 to show that the fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, peace and a list of other great sensations. I was thinking about it, trying to figure out exactly why those "fruits" are experienced and what they ought to mean. I don't want to base my testimony on something I can doubt. Good fruit comes from good trees - and it's the tree I want to evaluate. I know that the Book of Mormon is true, that Jesus is the Christ, the Son of the Living God, that Joseph Smith was a prophet called by Him, and that the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints is His kingdom on the earth. And I don't base my knowledge of those things just on the feelings I received on my knees in prayer in so many moments of desperate search for truth. Those feelings I received aren't always present, and I need a knowledge I can always rely on. That knowledge is something that has been impressed and engraven on my spirit for a long time. I know it's true whether or not things work out in my personal plans. I know it's true even when I sorrow for the evil in this world. As it says in Romans 8:16, the Spirit itself bears witness to my spirit of the truth I know. The fruits of the Spirit are what follow. The feelings aren't my answer, but the obvious fruit of the answer that is fully written on my heart and mind. I know the truth and nothing can separate me from it.

Love,
Elder Withers