Friday, January 11, 2019

No, Brother Everton, I did not cry myself to sleep.

Amigos queridos,

First off, I'm sorry that I didn't email last week; we were not given a P-day, so I've been chugging along with no breaks for about ten days, now.

I can't even describe how amazing this all is. Brother Everton, an instructor of the Mission Prep class at home, said repeatedly that every missionary cries himself to sleep on the first night. Nah, I'm not about that life. THIS IS AWESOME. I am having such a great time. The food is exactly as amazing as everyone says it is, and it's so wonderful being surrounded by hundreds of others who are also learning (or natively speaking) Spanish. I have felt the gift of tongues more strongly than I expected, by far, and my vocabulary has already boomed, and I can understand most of what the Latinos say. This is definitely miraculous, because, I would never have expected to be able to do this. All the teachers and leaders are promising that we will leave the CCM (Centro de Capacitación Misional) speaking fluent Spanish, if we put our minds and hearts to it, and though I doubted them at first, I'm already starting to feel like I'm on the brink of it! Miraculous.

Mi compañero, Élder Ricks, is a really good guy! He and Elder Steck are both from Mesa, and both are also going to Mendoza with me! We are different in so many ways, but somehow we haven't butted heads at all. That is a miracle, too! He is surprisingly spiritually-minded, and we both feel the same effects of the gift of tongues. He is better at speaking it because of extra practice he got at his job before coming here, but we are both at about the same level (which is also astounding, because he took four years of Spanish, as opposed to my two). My roommates are the same way, and I keep being surprised at their spiritually-centered comments. I am surrounded by angeles. Also, everyone in my room writes in their journals nightly, too, and that makes me very proud and happy.

My schedule is more packed now than I had expected. It's not as bad as some times I've experienced, but it's close. Especially the first week, we had very little personal time. It has loosened up a tad since then, but we still have about 13-hour days, with only a small bit of that being devoted to meals. Personal time comes AFTER those 13 hours. Ouch. But it's okay. I can stand this for six weeks, easily.

A couple of members of my district discovered in the Comedor a magical object. THE CONVEYOR-BELT TOASTER. It's the perfect analogy for the mission, because we're going into the fire of conversion and coming out better than before. WHOA! You put bread onto the conveyor belt, it goes into the machine and ascends to Heaven, where it is praised by the myriads of angelic tongues of fire and changed into a purer form, then it comes back out into the tray, just as manna came to the Israelites. Guys, this is incredible, revolutionary, innovative. The Church is true. Now my testimony is officially based solely on this toaster.

I have an experience to share. Two nights ago, we were having a district prayer after our classes were over for the day, before going home. Elder Steck began the prayer, saying "Querido Padre Celestial", which was all well and good. But then he stepped out of line. One thing that you have to understand before my telling what he said is that everyone EVERYONE says this in their prayers. At least, the gringos do, because they're reading it out of a book. Thus, it has become an inside joke in our district, which is a very bad thing, as you will see. He continues, "Te damos gracias por Tu amor." At that point, most of us bite back explosive laughter, and my companion nudges another elder, with whom he had just been discussing that joke earlier. The latter lets out pent up flatulence, and we all completely lose it, desperately trying to rein ourselves back in. Elder Steck, astonishingly, continues onward in his oracion calmly, despite the intense storm blowing inside the room. By the time he finished, I had not been breathing for about two minutes. Yes, his prayer was that long, through the gale of brimstone, and his composure only made it that much funnier. We were laughing the entire way home, and all through the next day. Guys, I just want to say I love my district.

Now, for a more serious experience. Yesterday morning, we were practicing teaching about something-or-other in class, and Elder Ehlen (one of my roommates) gave me feedback that somehow cut me to the center of my soul. He told me I wasn't sensitive enough to the situation of the hypothetical investigator, but with stronger words. He wasn't angry, offended, etc., it was just advice; it hurt, though, because it suddenly broke down a wall of pride I didn't know I had. I came into the mission feeling so prepared to teach, then I got to the CCM and felt the gift of tongues so strongly as I learned Spanish. I felt prepared, and then this. I have trusted in my own knowledge more than I have in the Spirit. I felt so sad and alone for hours. I was set apart to be a representative of Jesus Christ, but I did so pridefully. How could I? It came to a head when we were doing a district service project, pulling weeds in a field in the compound. It was fun enough, but my mind was on other things. The song "Square One" by Coldplay came into my head, and the last lines brought me to tears. "Is there anybody out there who is lost, and hurt, and lonely, too? Are they bleeding all your colors into one? And if you come undone, as if you'd been run through, some catapult it fired you, you wonder if your chance'll ever come, or if you're stuck in square one." Immediately after I thought of that, I heard words come into my head, very similar to those of Ether 12:27. "I give this unto you that you may be humble." My mind was turned to the Argentines I will be teaching, and to my Patriarchal blessing which says they will know the truth of the Gospel through my humility, and I cried while pulling weeds. Suffice it to say that I felt terrible for my pride, and was overcome with the feeling that I need to shape up and pull my weight alongside mi Salvador. I am going to work. All I need to remember is something I realized even before I left: my mission will be easy; all I have to do is tell the truth. But even then, I need to remember that I am not the One who knows the truth that I will speak. I will open my mouth, and THEN it will be filled, for I found out in a very difficult way that I cannot fill my own mouth.

All that said, I feel at home here. Este es el trabajo del Redentor; soy Su criado, y estoy lleno de esperanza y listo para aprender mediante del Espíritu, hasta el fin.

I'm sorry if there were any questions asked of me that I failed to respond to; there were about a dozen of them, and I don't have enough time to compare those emails I received to the one I'm writing. You are free to ask again, if you wish; I probably won't remember, otherwise.

God be with you all.

Love,
Elder Hill

  1. En el autobus, yendo al CCM (In the bus, arriving at the CCM)
  2. El primer día, cuando llegamos al CCM (The first day, when we arrived at the CCM
  3. Mis cuates del cuarto (My roommates) (Elder Ricks, his companion, is in the back)
  4. Desayuno esta mañana en el Comedor (Breakfast this morning in the Cafeteria)
  5. Yo, estando guapo (I, being handsome)
  6. Los pájaros verdes, que están interesantes (Green birds which were interesting)
  7. Mi distrito (My district)
  8. Uno de los cocineros buenos, quién se llama Esteban (One of the good cooks, whose name is Esteban)









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