Making Progress

This has been hands down the best week in a while. Despite the fact that I´m in the crux of the Argentine winter. It rained for the better portion of 3 days. Saturday, Sunday and Monday nonstop. Monday it got so cold that it almost, ALMOST turned to snow. You could feel some of the flakes coming down through the raindrops, but it didn´t quite get cold enough. The Elders out in the coast were unfortunately caught in a blizzard. It´s colder down south.

Regardless of the temperature issues, this week was the baptism of Damian! It was a beautiful service. I can´t really pick favorite converts, but Damian is up there. The change we witnessed him as he progressed toward his baptism was unbelievable.

We arrived early to the Church on Saturday, but upon filling up the font, we realized the water was a bit dirty. So we tried emptying the font again to clean it out. Unfortunately, that wasn´t possible, as the pump system that ejects and filters the water required that the water reach a certain point to build enough pressure. In other words, we had to fill the pump up about halfway, which took about thirty minutes, and then we had to get all the water out. THEN we had to scrub the pool down, and then we proceeded to fill the font with luke-warm water. For some reason the water heater wasn´t heating it like it normally did.

Rewind the night before

we were with Damian and we asked who he would like to baptize him. To my surprise, he didn´t say me, or Elder Boyer. Instead he said "Bishop Castro," or the bishop of the ward. I like to think that we as missionaries can know when we did our job right, if the investigators can trust the members enough to ask them to do something like that. So Bishop Castro was going to perform the ordinance.

Fast-forward back to the slowly filling font.

We were about thirty minutes away from the start of the baptism and the water is barely touching the second step... out of five. The bishop pleasantly strolls into the church with his baptismal clothes and a smile on his face that resembles J-leno. Upon seeing the font his grin turns to a mix between melted Jack-o-lantern and Lavelle Edward´s sideline stone face. Knowing that the only way to get the font filled would be to start jet-firing frigid water into the pool. Should Elder Boyer or I have been the one to baptize, the bishop wouldn´t have cared if we baptized him in a glacier or a font filled with frigid slushees. But seeing as how he was performing the baptism he took special interest in the situation.

In the end everything turned out ok. The water, although a bit on the cold side wasn´t unbearable. And the important thing was and is that at the days finish, it worked out. Damian was baptized.

I am running perilously short on time and have way too much to say. Allow me to give you some other highlights.

-Damian insisted on bearing his testimony Sunday. We were a little nervous that he might say something weird. In the end it was probably the most powerful testimony of a convert I´ve ever heard. He talked about how when we found him we gave his car a push because it wasn´t starting. He compared that to the spiritual push that we gave him in life. He bore powerful testimony of the Book of Mormon, and compared it to the iron rod. How before he might have been on the path, but he was lost, crawling toward the tree of life. Now he felt that he was holding to the rod, and that he was moving, quickly, back to be with God. I can´t tell you the joy that comes from seeing people change their lives and walk in righteousness.

-Those finding experiences that I shared in my last email yielded fruits. When we went to the house of the people that had the broken down car, they let us in with open arms and listened to the message. It was one of the better finding appointments of the mission.

-The people we did a street contact with also were waiting for us when we went back on Saturday. Definitely some of the elect. Many outstanding questions about the BOM.

Ok, I´m out of time.

I love you all and will keep you in my prayers. I know this church is true without a doubt in my mind. The blessings that come into people’s lives when they live the Gospel are real. If we keep the commandments and do the little things, we are blessed and prosper in the land. If we don´t, we´re not happy. That´s really our choice here. Be happy, or be miserable. Missionary work is all about helping others receive blessings, and find true happiness. That´s what I do every day, and there is nothing more rewarding.

One Year as a Missionary

First of all, I would like to thank you all for the birthday wishes on my behalf. Just to let you all know, I had one of the best b-days of my life on Sunday. Among the many blessings I received, Damian was able to come to church with Gonzalo, and both had a fantastic time. Unfortunately Argentina has been doing spectacular in the world cup, so at Damian´s request we have moved the baptism back two weeks so that he can return to more spiritual matters. I was a little frustrated at first, but this week we have started from scratch, reteaching all the lessons to Gonzalo this time around. Moving the date to the 17^th will allow us to baptize father and son together. We have had some incredibly spiritual appointments this week. Damian was able to share his experiences with the Book of Mormon, and teach his son how to pray etc. It is incredibly useful to have him with us teaching.

Anyways, after church, we went out to work. Unfortunately, Argentina was playing Mexico in the World Cup at the same time. It was about the least effective hour for proselyting imaginable. Every time Argentina scored a goal it sounded like we were in the stadium as everyone would run out from their houses shouting and screaming firing weapons in the air and shooting off fireworks. I´ve never seen devotion like that. We managed to find solace in the house of a member while Argentina plastered Mexico 3-1 (I called that score by the way. I´ve found it´s a lot easier to pick soccer scores than football or basketball)

Elder Chapman, I fully expect Argentina to dominate Germany this weekend. Just wanted to let you know. Messi has your number.

I´d like to share with you a powerful finding experience that happened that night on my birthday. Elder Boyer informed us that the night before, he had made a street contact with a man named Pablo. He was very entheusiastic about hearing the gospel, and lived down by central Adrogue, very wealthy, so wealthy we rarely work over there. Nevertheless, we put it down as a plan. AS the game wound down on Sunday afternoon, we headed down to the central district to find the alleged Pablo. It took a great deal of searching, but finally we found the streets. We made a few contacts asking for him, but no one came out, and those who did come out of their house were very uninterested in listening to us. Elder Boyer was about to give him a call, but unfortunately he had forgot the cell phone, leaving us relatively lost. We talked with a few others which yielded nothing, when finally Elder Boyer suggested we drop by the Jones, the new marriage who was working in the offices who lived close by to use their phone. We ran over to their apartment and up the stairs. I was desperate to find a way to get in touch with this Pablo character, and upon entering the Jones´apartment immediately asked to use their phone. It was strangely lonely, dark, and even more curiously the table was set for a dinner of at least 8 persons. I had barely asked who they were having over for dinner when suddenly, from the back room behind me I heard a deafening, “SURPRISE!!!”

Sure enough, it was the first surprise party that had legitimately surprised me. I wanted to say as we began to eat dinner, “But wait, what about Pablo?” Only then did I realize that he was a fake. I was a little disappointed we weren´t going to find a new investigator, but very grateful for the generosity of the Jones´in my behalf. I enjoyed dinner with the whole office staff, and will never forget the best b-day I ever had in Argentina.

That night, I popped my last bag of Orville Redenbackers movie theatre butter popcorn, and washed it down with one of the Dr. Peppers that Hna Fitch had given me. A complete day.

Most of you have already realized that it is not only my Birthday, but today marks a year mark away from home. I went into the mtc July 1^st, 2009. Today is July 1^st 2010. It has been an introspective time of my mission. Thinking about the way that everything changes. Thinking about the things I´ve seen.

I saw the road stretched out before me, two years I thought would never end. I saw my parents car drive away, and how nervous and inadequate and scared we all were. We knew we were there for something special, to be somebody, but more than anything, we just wanted to find something to hold onto in a world of change.

I saw the angels that walked the halls, those summer days in the MTC. When we talked in spanglish, and just wanted to get away from that closet of a room. They locked us in to learn about being a missionary. We didn´t know what that meant. We thought we could memorize the bible and convert someone. Back then, we knew everything. We said we didn´t, but secretly, we thought we did. And we knew that we were destined for great things.

I saw the haze and smog blot out the Buenos Aires sun. I saw the jungle of concrete and pavement. And I felt the cold that filled my lungs when I stepped off that plane. And I realized how big the world is, and how scared I really was. I felt the embrace of President when he told me it would be ok. I didn´t want him to see the fear in my eyes, but he could see through me. He was my father in the new world. He told me I would learn what it really means, to be a missionary. And I did.

That first day, when I saw the face of my trainer he spoke to me in Castellano. Elder Ponce showed me what it meant to love this church. I saw the face of Marta, that first appointment, when I stumbled and trembled to say a word I knew she wouldn´t understand. And through tears I told her how I loved my Savior and that´s why I was there.

I saw the angels, that came to my bedside, that first night in Buenos Aires. When I felt so far away. Lost in a new world. And I sobbed and tried to stay real quiet because I didn´t want Ponce to wake up. But he did. And even though he couldn´t speak a lick of English he said “Elder Jensen, I´m your brother, I love you.” And I knew I would find a way to endure there, somehow.

I saw the way the rain would fall, in Ensenada, where the gust from the river would chill my bones. Where I learned what it meant to love the people. Because that´s all I had. And things got better. I was a good tag along. But I was silent. Because I couldn´t speak Spanish. And I was so lonely.

I saw the way that Elder Bushman came as an answered prayer. And showed me that the mission was fun. He helped me speak Castellano, and taught me to teach. I saw the discouragement in Karen´s eyes when she never thought she could change, but she could, and she did. I saw the tears on her face as she emerged from the water, and gazed heavenward at the face of God Himself. And I knew that´s why I sacrificed everything I had. I learned a little about what it meant to save a child of God.

I saw the area book, in Avellaneda 2, when I had to leave everyone I loved so much in Ensenada. And I realized that no one was there. And we didn´t have investigators. I felt the heat, that burned my bones, that boiled my feet inside my shoes. And we walked, for days and days and didn´t find. I wanted to be a perfect missionary. But I didn´t know how. And we walked and walked and walked. Then one day, we saw a miracle, and a woman named Sylvina changed her life, just because we were there. And suddenly those hours of exhaustion, turned into hours of joy. Because it was all worth it, it was all worth it to find her.

I saw the sun bend down to the western sky bleeding ginger and violet across the veil. Exotic, startling, and beautiful. And I knew I was in God´s country. The things I saw in Buenos Aires. The things that took my breath away. Like the clouds moving as chariots of God, across the firmament, making me dizzy. Making me long to spend all my days right here.

I saw the dirt roads stretching out for miles in Burzaco. And marveled at my militant companion who would run into a burning building, and take a bullet for his country, but wouldn´t take a step for God out in the rain. I felt alone, in that drafty house in Burzaco, like I had never felt alone before. And I pled with God, late at night, when everything was quiet, when I couldn´t put one foot in front of the other. I learned what it meant to endure. Like the Savior endured in Gethsemene. I learned that life is full of bitter cups we have to drink. And suddenly, my burden didn´t seem so heavy.

I saw the work in the offices get real slow. But at the same time fast. Because Elder Gibbs wanted to work, and we found a way. We loved the people, and we “worked like dogs.” We ran and ran and laughed because that´s what the spirit does when we do what is right. That´s how we feel when we devote ourselves to the Lord´s cause.

I saw the sorrow in Gibb´s eyes, when president sent him to Villa Gessel, and I felt the burden of what he did on my shoulders. I knew I would have to take up the load, and be the strong one. Because the time of looking up to people in the mission was coming to an end. We had to become the heroes now. Because we were getting older. And the days of dependence are so limited in life.

I saw the tears in the eyes of 200 missionaries, as we said goodbye to our father and President. And the way he held some of them in his arms while we said goodbye. Some of them broke down, like children. Because we are children. Just a bunch of kids in the army of God. I learned a little bit about what it meant to be like the Savior that day, and I suddenly realize what it means to be a missionary. It means being like the Savior, in everything we do.

I saw the hand of God that year I spent in Buenos Aires. And I wasn´t the best missionary. But I thanked God for these things I saw, and felt. This mosaic of my future that will become who I am. Another year isn´t time enough. It will take eternity to eternity to carry out the work of God. But for now, I´ll focus on the day to day. As I stand here on the edge of the world, and write the story of my life.

Thank you all beyond measure for your support on my behalf.