Teaching the 19-yr-olds a Lesson

While on the mission, I filled two small journals. I wasn't great at writing daily (it kind of depended on my companion - I did it daily for a while b/c one comp heavily influenced me to do so. I also flossed twice daily for a few months due to another comp's good influence!) Well, now I cannot locate the first journal. It would have been from Oct 2000 through Jan 2002. The journal I do still have covers Jan 2002 through the end of my mission in May 2002.

PRIVACY POLICY: when quoting journal entries, I will change or mask the names when it seems to be something that requires privacy or whenever else I want. If it's something that would just be a fond memory to the person involved, I will leave the names in. I know this means we're relying on my judgment here. I guess you'll just have to trust me. ;)

Here is a funny entry from 8 April 2002. I actually don't remember this story, but it displays the playful nature that I carried throughout my mission. It's one of the milder pranks I participated in.

8 April 2002 - pday. We ate breakfast with the Banuelos (juevos rancheros), went shopping, wrote letters... not enough time. I only wrote a small page like this, front & back, for A---- & my parents. The time went way fast, and at 5:00 we had dinner w/ the Chavez - there are many Chavez families - this is the 1st counselor & his wife. Then, at 6:30, we taught a first to María Torres. Her mom, Sara, didn't stay out to listen, but we hope to give her a first on Wednesday. At 8:00, our appt said to come back in 1/2 hour. We went to the church to get Holbrook's new bike (her's stolen in Selma on bike rack @ church), and the bike was outside still on the bike rack. We couldn't believe they'd done that, so we gave them a lesson: we took it off & hid it in the bushes. We went in, called our appt @ 8:30 - they said he just left. :( Leader's meeting was still going on, so we asked the junior comps if they knew where the ZLs had put the bike. They thought it was on the car. It wasn't, so we assured them the ZL's probably brought it in so it wouldn't get stolen. When the ZL's came out, we asked about the bike, they saw it was gone... Daines kept saying, "Come on, don't do this to me..." Finally we pulled it out of the bushes and told them to be more careful! :)

As you can see, the life of a 21-yr-old sister missionary includes occasionally babysitting the 19-yr-old "Elders" (ironic title for those young lads, isn't it?) or teaching them valuable lessons via well-loved teaching methods like tricking them.

Material

Maybe if you're lucky, I'll share some entries from my mission journal and some pics from my photo albums!

Introduction

The idea for this blog started from a conversation on my Facebook wall. I posted this on my status one day:

Thoughts on being a mormon missionary: It kind of sets you up for the thrill of rebellion. The rules are set so strict that even simply crossing the street (if that street happens to be your area boundaries - or even better, your mission boundaries) gets your heart really pumping. Stay outside past 9:30, or out of your bed past 10:30, and you're a rebel. Getting a hug from an attractive member of the opposite sex, or even just stepping inside their apartment, sends you reeling in Twilight-esque "forbidden love" emotions. And the extremity of the rules, especially with a black/white focus on 100% obedience, simply set you up for failure. Fun conversations today with some of my prison mates (er, missionary buddies) got me thinking about the negative effects of that 18-month choice I made.

There are 22 comments on it. A couple of the first two were from people who are still very active in the LDS church, and they both used the word "opposite" in their comments. One said "I believe missions can have very opposite effects." The other said "...not my experience at all. In fact, just the opposite." The word opposite seems to really emphasize my point about a black/white focus. After those, I posted the following comment:

Hey, just to clarify: I'm not saying that I hated the mission when I was there. I could have left if I felt that way, and I certainly didn't. I felt like I should be there and I felt like I was doing good. But one thing that isn't often given space for discussion, or even given space for thought inside one's own head, is the possible negative psychological effects of serving a mission. For every thing you do, there are likely negatives and positives. I'm just reflecting on the negative effects that I recognize, so that I can acknowledge them, then hopefully let them go and grow from them

I thought it might be helpful to have a blog where those of us who served in "the Lord's Vineyard" (the California Fresno Mission) can share our stories and our perspectives. I hope that these stories can be different than the "faith-promoting stories" typically heard at church and different than typical "mormon bashing". I hope they can be an honest reflection of both the positives and negatives of serving an LDS mission. I'm choosing to focus on my own stories as well as the stories of missionaries I knew and served with. Hopefully, several people will share their stories with me to post here as well. Even for those who choose not to share stories, I hope that this blog will provide a safe space for you to reflect on your experiences in the mission field and their impact on your lives.

Oh - and "Tales From The Vineyard"? It is reminiscent of Tales from the Crypt. I thought of it early this morning while still half asleep after having another missionary dream last night. Hopefully this blog won't be quite as creepy as the original.