"Missionary: Someone who leaves their family for a short time, so that others may be with their families for eternity"
--- Anonymous (Common favorite quote of Church members)
Missionaries of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints are non-paid volunteers who devote a period of time to serve others, typically in teaching others the restored gospel of Jesus Christ, but in other service capacities as well. Most missionaries are young adults between the ages of 18 and 26 but there are also older couples who can choose to serve together; you can read more about different mission calls in my post "Diverse Missionary Service". Because missionary service is voluntary, missionaries decide if and when they want to serve. A "Mission Call" is a letter from the leaders of the Church indicating where the missionary is assigned to serve. With the Mission Call comes additional information pertaining to when and where they are going, and preparations needed before travel.
**NOTE: If you'd like to get in contact with missionaries of the Church and learn more, either online or in-person, you can do so for free at https://www.churchofjesuschrist.org/comeuntochrist/requests/missionary-visit
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MISSION AGE ANNOUNCEMENT
It was orange October 2012 and I was a Junior at Olympus High School. Only a handful of years stood between me and missionary service. Just like the shock of a cold shower in the morning when you're half asleep, life started feeling more real. I no longer felt like a boy going through the boring acts of life dreaming of a distant “One day when I'm older I'll be” scenario. Childish pleasures that once entertained me no longer had priority in my life—suddenly I thought them a waste of time. The clock was ticking.
As per every April and October, members of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints get to receive inspired messages from church leaders broadcast worldwide on an occasion called General Conference. We may use the title, “President” when referring to the prophet, or a Mission President (among others) in the sense that they are the “Presiding” authority, and the prophet presides over the Church (See "Prophets and Callings to Serve"). The prophet at the time, Thomas S. Monson, started off the conference as always with welcoming remarks but then led into something that no one could have anticipated. For you to appreciate what he said you must understand that as mentioned previously: the prophet is the only one able to receive revelation for the world at large. When moved by the spirit, he can pronounce God’s will.
I was at home watching the conference with my family on TV. I was standing by the stairs listening to him talk about missionary work. At that time, some select missionaries had received special permission to serve at the age of eighteen instead of nineteen. President Monson commented on the great results and maturity with which these younger individuals served. Man, I couldn’t wait to serve in a few more years! My blood was pumping with anticipation. And that’s when the mic dropped (so to speak):
“I am pleased to announce that effective immediately all worthy and able young men who have graduated from high school or its equivalent, regardless of where they live, will have the option of being recommended for missionary service beginning at the age of 18, instead of age 19.”
You can imagine my joy! I stood there, eyes wide, mouth dropped. My family turned and looked at me with wide smiles and said “Logan! You can leave a year earlier!” I was speechless. And then he announced that women with the desire to serve could be recommended for missionary service beginning at the age of nineteen instead of twenty-one. That was arguably even more momentous!
This was a historic moment for the church! That kind of life-changing news doesn’t happen every day. Everyone was buzzing with excitement; classmates anticipating what lay before them. All at once, the world became a very big place to set out into as we walked the edge of adulthood. I would come to realize the opposite, just how small the world actually is once I got to college (See "A Small World"). (That could be a story in and of itself)
MISSION PAPERS & PREPARATION
My senior year of high school started and so did the mission papers (At the end of 2013 into early 2014). Every day became more real (I can’t stress that enough) and it clicked that I wouldn't see most of my peers again once we graduated and went our ways. I stopped caring so much about trying to be one of the “in-group” and started caring more about my goals. As should we all. I had to miss a day or two of school getting pricks in my arms or getting wisdom teeth extracted (that’s a story not worth telling). But suffice it to say that thanks to a priesthood blessing my dad gave me (See "Ministering to the Sick and Afflicted"), I had no swelling following the surgery. I didn’t have any pain or difficulty speaking whatsoever and was conducting class at church three days later as if nothing had happened. It was miraculous considering how drastically others react to surgery; you’ve likely seen videos of people "under the influence" of anesthetics.
I had my interviews with my Bishop and Stake President (local ecclesiastical leaders). Although I don’t recall much of what was said but I remember the exciting feeling—a good feeling. Then I waited for my mission papers to be processed at church headquarters.
Traditionally, it took a few weeks to receive a mission call in the mail (now they can do it electronically). I submitted my mission papers (online) at the end of March 2014 meaning that I would likely be waiting through April General Conference to receive my mission call. I thought that Conference would delay it because of the busyness of the leaders of the church but it didn’t.
MY MISSION CALL
Thursday, April 17th, 2014 -- I was carpooling home from school with my friend Austin. As we neared my home, I had a strong gut feeling that my mission call was in my mailbox. I was on cloud nine but I walked cautiously to assure myself that I wouldn’t be disappointed if it wasn’t there yet. But it was! The large white envelope protruding from our black mailbox. I removed it in awe, traveled reverently upstairs, opened the door to my mom’s bedroom and her jaw dropped like mine. Immediately we called up my dad as mom and I went to work photographing this life-changing occasion.
We gathered friends’ predictions where I might be called to serve on color-coded sticky notes on a map in our living room. My predictions were New Zealand, Canada, and Mexico. I couldn’t imagine myself serving in Europe. Like I literally couldn’t visualize it, so my intuition was somewhere in the Americas; North to Canada (I did take three years of French in middle school) or south to Mexico (I was just finishing my third year of Spanish). Sometimes language skills play a part in the decision process but sometimes they don’t. Language isn’t the biggest concern when it comes to assignments (I’m sure) namely because there are other things more important than what language you speak, and also that languages can easily be learned and are not prerequisites to go foreign.
Although missionaries don't choose where to serve, people still ask where we would want to go if given the choice (See "Mission Administration"). I knew that God knew better than me but honestly, I didn’t want to go anywhere perpetually icy which doesn’t cancel out many places anyway. It didn’t matter that I grew up in Utah; I don’t care for the cold. It was bad enough walking home from school in the snow from time to time, I didn't want that to be my mission experience too. By preference I wanted to visit another country but being closer to home would make it easier to receive an occasional care package. Canada or Mexico seemed perfect. If I factor in the cold, I guess Mexico was the ideal choice of the two.
By matter of information, the reader might be interested in knowing where in the world a missionary might be called to serve. At the time, there were 405 possible missions I could have been sent to throughout the world, even though the number changes from time to time. But even though the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints is a global religion, there are still some places in the world where the preaching of the gospel is not yet allowed (currently I believe there are about 57 countries and territories, the vast majority of them which are in the Middle East). The handbook of the church says:
"The Church works to fulfill Jesus Christ’s commandment to take the gospel to all the world (Matthew 28:19). Missionaries serve only in countries where they are officially recognized and welcomed by local governments. The Church and its members respect all laws and requirements with regard to missionary efforts. For example, in some parts of the world, missionaries are sent only to serve humanitarian or other specialized missions. Those missionaries do not proselytize. The Church does not send missionaries to some countries."
So, other than those few places where proselytizing is prohibited, I had a whole world of possibilities to which I could go.
Rather than opening my mission call that same day, I decided to wait a day to open it with friends. Admittedly, I got criticized a bit for that (not in a mean way but in an anxious way). Nobody could believe I waited a whole day to know where I was going! The letter just sat on the shelf for the meantime taunting us until I opened it the next evening at our church building. I chose to open it there because it was roomier than our modest condo. Feeling it only appropriate, I dressed in missionary attire. We began our little program with the hymn, “I’ll go where you want me to go”, dad said the prayer, and I said a few words of my own. Paraphrasing, I said:
“I made the decision to serve a mission a long time ago. It was one of the easiest choices I've ever had to make. It's because I want to share some of the blessings that God has given me in my life. Two years is nothing in comparison. Wherever I go is where the Lord needs me and where I can do the most good.”
I was super giddy. I teased my dad that I might need a chair in case I passed out. He took me more seriously than I intended. The whole room was ear to ear with smiles. I explained that I wanted to read my entire letter since I knew the location was only part of the letter and I wanted to cherish its entirety before breaking off into excited discussion.
“Dear Elder Robertshaw (*Sigh…here we go…),
You are hereby called to serve as a missionary of the church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints. You are assigned to labor in the Mexico, Reynosa Mission.”
I guessed right! Mexico! The first thoughts that came to mind were tacos, sombreros, a hot sandy desert, and rattlesnakes. Very stereotypical. Then I’m thinking: I wonder if it’s the tropical part of Mexico by the pyramids or near the beaches tourists always go to on vacation.
Where's Reynosa? I’ve never heard of it. So, after reading my whole letter out loud, I practically pressed my nose against the map behind me and I still didn’t see it. Luckily, I found a map of it enclosed in my packet. “Oh, it’s so close to Texas! Oh, and there’s the Gulf of Mexico! That’s not that far away! That’s nice”. I won't be going too far out of the country, just far enough for it to be a cultural experience!
We were so excited! I'd get to learn Spanish (Like real Spanish, not that watered-down "high school Spanish" either)! Those last three years in High School didn’t make me fluent but they laid down the basics I needed to go on from there. I loved learning languages and I thought I had it in the bag but I’ll tell you later just how much I really knew (which was next to nothing).
It was now dark when I got home and in the excitement of it all… I googled "Reynosa, Mexico". I wanted to see what I was up against.
Granted, there were some unpleasant things online among which were failing immigration laws, entire factories going up in flames, or gang violence in the streets (not to dwindle on the negatives since I loved all the good things as well). I guess I never thought about the Texas Border that much before. I had no previous need to as an adolescent in Utah. It should have been obvious what to expect in that political place. But was I scared? No. I knew that God would protect me. If He wanted me to go there, out of all places in the world he could have sent me, He must have trusted me very much. Spoiler alert: I survived.
My mission consisted of the greater state of Tamaulipas, Mexico; Reynosa being the largest city and Ciudad Victoria being the state capitol (although we never went that far south). My mission was in the northeast corner of Mexico that touches the Texas border divided by the Rio Grande and hugs the Gulf of Mexico. The cities that covered my mission were Reynosa, Rio Bravo, Matamoros, Valle Hermoso, and San Fernando (Nuevo Laredo was part of the mission for my first year until 2015 when it became part of the Monterrey East Mission). The combined population of those cities was about 1.3 million people which is the equivalent of the church membership in all of Mexico; so, if you could imagine everybody you saw or didn’t see as a member of the church, that’s how many members are in Mexico which is a lot!
As far as employment went, the main industry came from the “maquiladoras” (Mac-ee-la-door-us), factories that foreign companies, namely American companies, established to save money on cheap labor. They were often the only work available so you could confidently assume most anybody you met worked in a maquiladora or had family who did. Maquiladoras were responsible for most of the recent socioeconomic growth of the North causing many to come up from Veracruz looking for employment. And I’m serious when I say that the majority of the people I met were originally from Veracruz. Most everyone worked in the maquiladoras and when they didn’t, they were usually construction workers, truckers, or engineers. Mexicans are very good with their hands and are very hard workers (See "Upon The Rock"). Work was hard and took a lot of time out of their day so it made it hard to find people home to teach. Although money was often tight, they made things work and were grateful for any amount earned. I heard them thank God for the beans and eggs on the table all the time. If only the rest of us were less picky with the bounty of choices we have at home. Their humility was admirable. You can’t help but be grateful for anything they offered you when you knew how much of a sacrifice it was.
This wasn’t going to be an easy mission. Not just any missionary could do the job; I felt unique. I’d never heard of anyone going there and I was certain I never would again. My mission was 1 of 58 new missions that were formed in 2013, mine formerly a part of the Monterrey East Mission. While my whole school was getting called to Chile or Italy or France together, I knew that what I had was one-of-a-kind. God had been preparing me my whole life for this. This is what I'd been dreaming of doing since I was a little kid.
After having been its own mission for five years, my mission was recombined with the Monterrey East Mission in the summer of 2018 due to the massive wave of missionaries finally coming to a balance. Missionaries are still serving in the same cities as far as I know but there are probably fewer. You can imagine just how extra special it was to serve in a “limited edition” sort of mission. So, if you never hear of anyone having served in that mission again, that’s why.
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