My thoughts:
These Mission Journal Entries are kind of funny. On one hand, it’s a bit embarrassing the way I think. On the other, they bring back so many memories. And yet, again and again, I think, why didn’t I write that down?
Oct 27, 1995
Wow, I’m in Flatbush now. When I came to Zone Conference I didn’t expect to come back, but I’m here. I don’t know why, but I still feel bad, like I made a wrong decision, kick against the pricks. I feel as though I’m fighting God’s will. Ouch, how could it be so? What’s wrong with me, to not follow God’s will. Could it explain my lack of the spirit? My lack of guidance? I only am left with a desire to change over. (change to Spanish) It just may happen.
Nov 1, 1995
The other day we got 1 more companion. So now we are a foursome. That is crazy. He’s waiting for a visa to go to Denmark or something like that. He’s cool. Kind of reminds me of a patient Billy. We got hit by no eggs on Halloween. Not all the missionaries were as lucky as us. Yes, some got plastered. It was really a wild night. Proselyting is going better. I do think I’m getting stronger. Heavenly Father’s molding me into the baptizing machine.
Nov 4, 1995
After a good game of Mission Football on Wednesday, I ached so bad after for 2 days. I hurt many muscles. Last night my left ankle started to ache, then this morning it was much worse. Then I started getting sharp pains (very) I think my comp thinks I’m a wimp. But because we are a foursome I talked them into letting me stay home to rest it. I also got some tape to hold it and keep it from getting worse. I feel like a boob, but my ankle does hurt. The worst thing about it is that I can’t walk and walking is essential to the work. It’s very scary. I didn’t do anything really bad to hurt it, it might have just been from stretching it. It sucks. It makes me feel like such a bigger wimp. But it does hurt, and I can’t hide it because I can’t walk. I’m going to try again tomorrow again. Hopefully, all goes well. The work is slow. Don’t know what to do, but know it will get better. Miracles are possible. It’s god’s church and Jesus Christ lives.
Nov 5, 1995
Today was Fast Sunday, Brooklyn Style. One person gave a testimony then a man got up and gave his and took the whole time. He sang three songs. The Star Spangled Banner, the Jamaican National Anthem and some other song (Jesus Loves Me). It was bad. After the first song, I heard the Star Spangled Banner. When he started I couldn’t hold in the laughter. Then to top it off the branch president stood and covered his heart, so the whole congregation stood and sang along. Crazy it was. A day in the life in Brooklyn.
[This was really interesting to me. In this area, we occasionally joked that it was the PLDS Church, the Pentecostal Church of Latter Day Saints. There were a lot of Pentecostal converts and some of those traditions seeped into the church. Or better, some of the newer members had not learned to leave some of the old behind them. Anyhow, I remember the first lady getting up and scolding the relief society sisters for a good 15 to 20 minutes. Then this elderly gentleman got up and just rambled. At first when he started singing the Jamaican National Anthem, I was a bit shocked that someone would do that for a testimony. Then he broke into the Star Spangled Banner. He singing voice was poor and he only knew about a quarter of the words. He mumbled half the words because he didn’t know them all. When the bishop stood and covered his heart for the song, I thought I was going to die laughing. It was all I could do to hold it in. Then the gentleman started singing a song called Jesus Loves Me. I like the words Jesus Loves Me, but the song was a monotone repetition of the phrase said over and over dozens of times. As he started singing it, people in the congregation raised their hands and almost chanting sang along with him. This was the Pentecostal part of the congregation. I have never in my life sat through another sacrament meeting or testimony meeting like this.]
Nov 6, 1995
Today was a street meeting. I felt the spirit so strong about it. I finally talked them all into it. So the four of us did it. It was powerful. The foes of evil were there to fight against us. It was awesome. I love this work. We got just what we asked for. It was so powerful. Like prophets of old I declared with power the spirit was awesome like Alma 4:19. Pure testimony. Some guy was going off about Jesus being black. Crazy. So one of the missionaries took him to the side so he wouldn’t detract. crazy log of people. It was powerful. It was awesome.
[This was recurring over and over on my mission. Groups like the Hebrew Israelites hold a belief that the lineage of Jesus was different and he was of more of an African descent. So, naturally, he was black, not white. It is interesting because Jesus is so often portrayed as being of white European descent. No one really knows except for those who have seen him. It was common to see pictures of a black Jesus in people’s homes, or even a really ripped with bulging muscles carrying the cross, and at times a huge ripped Jesus with dreadlocks. I don’t think it is so much an issue that Jesus is black, ripped, or has dreadlocks, more than it is getting hung up on a physical representation, more than him being who he was and doing the things he did. I think people miss the mark that way. Personally, I don’t think he was white, I don’t think he was black. If I thought about it, I would think he had more of what would be a Mediterranean skin tone. Then again, it does not matter, and no one should allow skin tone to be a stumbling block.]
Nov 7, 1995
Today was good. It started out raining all day long, non-stop. We got juked [stood up] a few times and looked up a few referrals. Then we decided to tract out a building. So, we prayed and asked for 4 to 5 people [contacts]. We started on one side; we got 5 people plus one who had attended a branch in Georgia. Bonus, it was good we taught a few more, then at night still raining. 8 hours of rain today. I was walking along my foot hurt, my legs hurt, I was in the dumps, and I was staring at the ground. While I was looking at the ground, I heard some words. “Don’t you know who you are?” And I remembered I had heard my friend Kim tell the story a million times. I could hear her telling me this. I’m a child of God. He loves me. My friends love me. Why’s my spirit so down? So, I peeked up and started singing primary songs. It was cool. I’m so grateful for it all. I’ve been blessed so much the last few days.
Nov 9, 1995
P-Day was cool. I’m staying in Flatbush. Weird. Things are cool. My foot’s about as good as normal now. Thank goodness. I couldn’t work effectively. Things are bad. We’re looking for people to baptize but don’t have any advancing. None. Kind of depressing. Why don’t they grasp it? It’s so perfect. The Lord has done a lot so far for me. Helping me through. I don’t convert. He does and he will help us find people to baptize.
[I’m surprised I didn’t write about it much. But I really struggled in my mind. I was changed from English to Spanish after being in the mission field for 2 months. I was excited to be Spanish until I started teaching Spanish people and didn’t speak the language. It was so hard. Hard enough I wasn’t quite sure I really wanted to do it, even though I really wanted to. It’s one thing to see the shiny stone. It’s another to have to dig away a mountain to find it. I couldn’t truly be a Spanish missionary unless I did the work to earn the language. Get it? Earn is the root of learn. It was going to take work. In Flatbush, I did splits with Russian and Spanish elders. Each time I went with the Spanish elders there were things that made my heart yearn to be a Spanish missionary. I remember thinking to myself, why didn’t I fight for it? Well, I didn’t because I was in a sense scared to do so. I vaguely remember going to one family’s house and almost mourning, I wanted to be Spanish again. Again scared, I didn’t want to. I remember praying to God one night and telling him, if he wanted me to be a Spanish missionary, I would give it my whole heart might and mind. I would put everything I could into it. But, I wanted to know for sure it was his will, not my own. I remember asking him, to send me back to the same area with the same companion and I would know without a doubt it was his will for me. My mind would change, it would be solid and firm and I would give it my whole heart. Tomorrow, Nov 10, 1995 I will receive a call telling me the Elder I had originally held a spot for became sick and had to go home immediately. They called me and asked me to fill his place. When they called, they told me I better buy my Spanish scripture immediately because I will be a Spanish missionary from that point forward. I ended up back in the same area with the same companion and became a Spanish missionary.]