Reflections...

I took out my mission journal out and reflected as I read the excerpts from different points on the mission. What a profound experience it was to be in Argentina for 2 years in selfless service. I read through letters from converts, journal entries from the beginning of my missionary days in the MTC, and my last few journal entries before I came home.

I remember the first couple days in the MTC. Everything was foreign. I remember the first few nights it was really hard. I was so tired and ready to fall asleep but I had so many questions. How was it going to be in Argentina? What will it be like speaking to the natives? Will it be as hard as they say it is?

The first few weeks in the area Rafeal Calzada were great. I was quite scared walking down the streets especially when we would walk by two specific groups of people. One of them was this group of old guys that got together every night to drink and hang out. Everytime they saw us they tried to get us over to their party. I remember one night as we passed them we ignored them like usual and a guy started following us. My campanion said "okay Elder, as soon as we turn the corner we have to sprint home." We sprinted until we couldn't run anymore and started walking again. Then this guy on a bike came toward us and he skids and stops right in front of us. He is cursing us and screaming for us to stop walking. He had a knife in his hand. I can't remember exactly what he wanted (nor could I really understand everything he said) but I could smell the alcohol in his breathe and new it was a sketchy situation. Somehow he didn't get mad and we found a way to end our conversation. I think he wanted to have us come by and visit him at his house. His cursing us and threatening us with a knife was the prime motivation for our not visiting his home. That is an experience I haven't thought about in a long time.

There were many other close encounters and frightening incidents. It's funny, I would never want to roam the streets in my mission now. I would be so afraid of what would happen when they see a Yanki (that is what they called us gringos) walking down the street. But I felt so protected there. I was rarely afraid of what would happen to us. Missionaries are protected from hard. In fact, here's another story...

My companion and I were walking down the street behind this new evangelist church. We were in the area called Parque Baron. This area is one of the most dangerous areas I have ever been in. Especially at night. As we walked down the road there were two guys ahead of us doing something. I couldn't tell what it was. We walked past them trying to avoid eye contact and all. They were dealing drugs right there. I could tell as I walked past. In fact, one of the guys was for sure wasted. As we past the guys that was all drugged up turned and saw us and started yelling at us. He started to run after us I would imagine because we had witnessed a drug deal and they didn't want us to report anything or something. But as he started to run to me his friend called after him saying "Hey, leave them be!!" I don't know who it was or why he protected us but he did and we were safe.

Well many other stories flood my mind as I think about the excitement of a mission. Maybe someday you will post some more...

Here are some pictures of the adventures... I will have to dig up the pictures of the people we have taught for a later time.




Christmas and New Years down in B.S. Argentina are during the summer time (their seasons are reversed). They celebrate with tons and tons of fireworks. You can see in the background how the sky is just lit up with fire. I miss the pyrotechnics about Argentine Christmas and New Years.

Oh yeah, so we were on the top of the roof in the picture above. The neighbors are crazy. As we were on the roof our neighbor decided to come out blasting with his shotgun. He was shooting everywhere and we all "hit the deck." It was quite the exhilerating experience. Once again, missionaries are protected.