"Good company in a journey makes the way seem shorter"
--- Izaak Walton (English writer; 1593 - 1683)
At this point, I will assume that you know the context of this blog post. This wraps up my summary of my 6 weeks in the Missionary Training Center before heading to Mexico as a missionary for the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints.
Click to Navigate (Table of Contents):
Attempting to describe these experiences is like grasping at smoke; it’s impossible for anyone but those who experience it to understand the whole of it but suffice it to say that it had its ups and downs.
BUMPS IN THE ROAD
We all struggled to some degree. Elder Johnson hurt his leg playing basketball just after the first week (2 days after our positive basketball experience in the last post; see "Adventures of District D -- Part 1") and had to use crutches for a while. Elder Brogan got pink eye at some point. Elder Whitlock had stomach problems almost right from the get-go. Our new instructor who replaced Hermano Pitcher, Hermano Zuzinaga, demanded we learn the importance of 100% obedience. He was merciless. You could literally not be a minute late without being reprimanded. On our first Monday, August 11, we got back 5 minutes late from gym time because Elder Whitlock's stomach had been hurting and our teachers made us show up 10 minutes early the next day.
On our first Saturday, August 9th, another District who lived in our building came over to introduce themselves and shared the excess snacks that they had accumulated from care packages. Less than a week later, August 15th, it was discovered that that District had bed bugs supposedly from eating in bed which is interesting since they can only really be transported from one surface (like a suitcase) to another and don’t appear out of thin air or food (the best way to treat them is with high temperatures). That’s why we had cleaning checks regularly.
At some point in the week, everyone had to prepare a short 5-minute talk in Spanish on an assigned topic. Every Sunday during sacrament meeting at the chapel across the street in Wyview, a member of the District Presidency would ask two missionaries to come up and share their message (there were probably close to 50 or 60 of us to draw from). We wouldn't know who'd be selected beforehand. The purpose of this was to prepare and learn to give impromptu gospel messages on the mission (as is often the case). Ideally, missionaries should always go to church meetings with a message ready "just in case". (See "Be Ready Always")
I think most of us prepared our messages during our personal study time during the week. And then there was Elder Brogan who took a risk one week and didn't prepare anything, positive that he wouldn't be called up to speak. And he was -- to his great horror. And to his credit, having not prepared any material and still being quite new to Spanish, he took it like a champ and winged it. The rest of us couldn't stop laughing under our breathe. Lesson learned.
NICKNAMES
We gave each other nicknames. I was nicknamed Elder Robertspock for some reason and it was about the only nickname that stuck. I think I was explaining that just because I'm normally a "serious" character that it doesn't mean I'm upset, kind of like how Spock is. Elder Whitlock was Elder Google. Elder Delgado was Elder Del Gato (Del Gato means, "of the cat"), and Elder Brogan was Elder TALL (TALL, which was a computer program we used a few times a week to practice Spanish, stood for "Technology Assisted Language Learning". I don't remember what it had to do with Elder Brogan). Since then, they've created a mobile app called, "Tall Embark" where you can start learning to teach the gospel in almost 60 different languages from Albanian to Vietnamese at no charge to members of the church.
WEEKLY DEVOTIONALS
We had singing practice for weekly campus devotionals had we wished to participate in the choir performance on Tuesdays. Elders Scott, Webb, Budd, and I were about the only ones from our District who thought it was fun to go. I was never an amazing singer but I loved the powerful spirit that radiated from a room full of missionaries singing together. What a privilege it was even if we chose not to perform in the devotional! I always learned so much from the devotionals and it was just awesome to see everyone together on the main campus, even if Elder Whitlock did run off to talk to his buddies more often than not (He had many friends in the MTC). The messages were always inspiring even though we never had any Apostles speak to us in person. But it’s okay because we occasionally enjoy that privilege at BYU. The absolute worst part of that on-campus devotional was having to sit in ridiculously crammed hard-backed seating for over an hour at a time while wearing our suits and having to cram back onto the sardine cans of shuttles to get back to West Campus. During our stay, we had a fair amount of rain so you can see why many of us preferred cramming in instead of waiting for the next ride.
HEALTH CONCERNS
Elder Whitlock developed various health problems early on, namely with his stomach. We must have visited the clinic on the main campus (BYU's student health clinic) once or twice a week. I felt sorry for him. But seeing his buddies, opening his daily packages, or talking about his girlfriend (which I questioned was appropriate or helpful) kept his spirits us so I was reluctant to say otherwise. I slept on the top bunk of our room. The alarm clock sat on the windowsill within his reach but I would still have to get down out of bed to turn it off. Setting foot on that hard black metal ladder first thing in the morning was miserable. He would steal some extra sleep while I took my shower. It must have taken me a week to realize how to turn on the hot water for some reason so I fought against icy cold water those first days.
On the upside, there were moments of mutual benefit: I taught everyone how to polish their shoes (Which my dad had only taught me a few weeks earlier), and Elder Whitlock taught me how to better tie a tie. I wasn't sure I needed his advice at first but he insisted and it sounded like he just wanted to take care of me. We looked out for each other. We all had our struggles but we helped each other push through them.
Health was an issue for all of us at one point or another. Elder Scott and Elder Whitlock had terrible stomach problems. Most of us developed some sort of sinus problem so I purchased some cough drops for us to share. I ate those grapefruit-flavored cough drops like candy. But really, things like that happen when you’re constantly around so many people. That’s why we were required to get immunizations before the MTC. It’s not the MTC’s fault. It’s to each his own to take care of his health before things like that happen. If we take preventative measures, we can avoid many bad things.
The days passed and suddenly we were looking at week six. We had our flight plans delivered to us. Elder Whitlock was still getting checkups and I was with him at what should have been his last. I waited in the foyer. I remember the broken look on his face when he came out. We sat down on the curb and through tears, he told me that he wasn’t coming with us to Mexico for at least two more weeks, or at least not until he could receive the medical green light he’d been working so hard for.
In his grief, he told me of his flight to the Vegas Mexican consulate he'd taken a few days before. He told me of how irritating the other missionary passengers had been, and how alone he’d felt. I remember having to wake up around 4:00 in the morning to walk him over to the offices and being escorted back by a night guard so I could go back to sleep; Elder Whitlock didn't get back until 10:15 that night. I don't blame him for feeling so awful having to endure such a tedious thing from dawn till dusk. He told me how a returned missionary sat next to him on the plane and shared how his own mission to Brazil had blessed him which encouraged Elder Whitlock. I asked him, a bit shakily if he wanted a priesthood blessing. So, when we got back to the apartment, Elder Johnson and I gave him a blessing. This was the first time we, two inexperienced missionaries, gave a blessing by ourselves. The spirit reassured the three of us that though it might take a little more time, that Elder Whitlock would join us in Mexico.
GETTING READY TO LEAVE
We made preparations to leave the MTC. We bought our instructors white shirts and autographed the back. We ate what junk food we could before donating all the excess mail package food we had bursting out of our cupboards to the “younger districts” (Elder Whitlock got a lot of packages). During our stay, Elder Whitlock had gotten Cafe Rio through the mail, and Elder Johnson got Five Guys Burgers and Fries sent to him the same day. We'd gotten various boxes of candies and beef jerkies and other junk food. Our fridge was stocked with energy drinks (which I never drink). We didn't do grocery shopping since the MTC provided every meal, and we didn't have the means to cook (like pots or pans or even silverware) but our kitchen was beyond stocked. In our last week, one of the Elders got a box of donuts that he shared with us. So, suffice it to say that we had a lot of leftovers.
We said goodbye to Hermanos Clark and Zuzinaga. Despite all the hardship and general discord during those six weeks between us and Hermano Zuzinaga (who we felt was too strict on us), Elder Hale spoke for all of us when he got emotional during Hermano Zuzinaga’s final testimony of Christ. At last, we saw each other eye to eye. Hermano Zuzinaga always said that we’d age eighty spiritual years in the mission. You have so many new experiences and you meet so many new people when you’re on your own, you grow up twice as fast. Really, age does not determine the maturity or wisdom of a person but rather it is the content of one’s character that matures. I always had an old soul but now it is at least eighty years older.
I got to see Hermano Clark on BYU campus my first semester home in the Fall of 2016. I almost didn’t recognize him, his hair was grown out and he was in casual clothes instead of missionary attire. I’m glad he recognized me! It was a bit strange because as my instructor, he felt so much older than us, and then to see both of us going to school together, it was something else. He’s married and graduated now. I’ve never seen Hermano Zuzinaga since the MTC but I know he’s married and pursuing many business ventures.
We usually sang “God be with you ‘til we meet again” (a classic farewell-themed hymn that at times makes one emotional) on a District’s last Sunday in the MTC but instead, we sang “America the Beautiful” for whatever reason. I don’t know why; it was mid-September and all. It was comical nonetheless, the randomness of it all. And America is beautiful. I suppose it was fitting to bid a formal temporary farewell to the country we called home though we’d be just across the way. It was bizarre living within walking distance of America and not being able to touch it. When I felt far away from home, I would often look to the sky and wonder which clouds were hovering over Texas soil. The moon and stars would come out and I remembered we shared the same sky (even if most of the time the moon cycles moved vertically instead of horizontally).
WEEKLY SERVICE & THE PILLOW ROOM
It was our final service day (which we did weekly at 6:15 in the morning which meant waking up around 5:45 doing janitorial work). We used to meet in the clubhouse in the middle of Raintree to do "roll call", get safety orientation, and split up into jobs. Other than service, we missionaries were not allowed in the Clubhouse (as far as I recall) like there was anything to do after they stripped the place of recreation and the pool while we were there. The rule was first come, first serve as far as who cleaned what. We'd usually vacuum, dust, sweep, and touch on the sinks and toilets in all the classrooms (apartments were to each his own).
After our last service and all the other Districts had left, one of the custodians who knew it was our last time whispered, "It's your last time here, right?". Well, in the basement of our building was a hamper area where we exchanged our dirty linens for clean linens every week. In that same area was a “secret” room informally known as the pillow room. The nickname speaks for itself. This room in the basement of our apartment, just a couple of floors beneath our bedroom, was stacked deep with clean white pillows. He invited us to take our shoes off and jump in the pillow ball pit. Since it was just after service time, I hadn’t anticipated needing my camera. I took the photo below when we sneaked back in the day before we left. Technically we weren’t supposed to be in there without supervision but it was our last day and it was unlocked. No harm done, right? The residencies on the main campus are different and there is no equal to the west campus pillow room. And having worked custodial there to orient missionaries in their early morning service, I would never let them know of such things even if such a thing were real.
OUR LAST DAY
One of the guys, I think it was Elder Johnson, got his hands on a garden gnome in the mail. We wrote “District D 2014 - 2016” on the bottom and hid it in one of the evergreen bushes. Sadly, it was long gone when I went back to check after the mission along with all the waxy bushes. Just the same, the prickly ferns concealed the housing sign which is probably why they got rid of them altogether, leaving nothing but wood chips and a couple of leafy shrubs in its stead. I'm sure it was discovered and removed when the bushes were. Again, it was harmless fun but it would have been better if it lasted until I revisited the spot when I started school at BYU in 2016, two years later.
We busted open Elder Budd’s shell of a TMNT piñata that his parents mailed him. Don’t ask me why they sent an empty piñata, some things don’t need an explanation. We dropped it off the third floor and kicked it around until it was no more. We took final photos with Elder Budd (going to the Irvine, California Mission) and Elder Whitlock and said our goodbyes since they wouldn’t be coming with us that night. They went one way and we went the other. It was an emotional time but in a good way. I haven’t seen Elder Budd since. That wasn’t the end of Elder Whitlock. To the best of my knowledge, I think Elder Budd and Elder Whitlock got to see the Ogden, Utah Temple dedication that was the following Sunday.
Each of us had a different experience in the MTC. I shared many of the memories I shared with the others rather than focusing on myself. I didn't talk about the lessons we taught or the process of language study. But I think what I've written about, these shared moments are what matter most. District D forever!
Comments