I`ve gotten to know a lot about endurance on the mission. The majority of these thoughts have led me to realize that even if all we can say for ourselves is that we walked out the door in the morning, it`s still saying a lot.

This week I was pondering a lot about what mission success is. What I want to get out of my mission. What I have accomplished thus far, and what I want to accomplish in the coming months. And perhaps more important than "the what" of my mission is "the why." Why did I want to accomplish the things I have accomplished, and why do I want to accomplish my goals for the remainder of the fleeting time that has been left to me. I have discovered on the mission that the "why" is infinitely more important than the "what." It doesn`t matter if we accomplish miracles. Choice are the words of the apostle Paul, "without charity, I am nothing."

This week we moved pensions from my air conditioned paradise, my home for over a fourth of my mission, and went down the street to a brand new apartment. It was fun to have a new place, but the settling in had some undesirable effects on the work. Elder Martindale and I ended up running errands and resolving a lot of temporal matters, like getting our water filter working, and making sure we had a squeegee. By the end of the week we were essentially settled in completely, but there are still the occasional growing pains that accompany the change.

The biggest blow to this week was Luis hitting rock bottom. It had been a long day filled with miscellaneous errands in the morning, and rejections in the evening. Investigators talking about their previous evangelist baptisms and the saving grace of Christ. People just seemed especially disinterested. It was a relief to have Luis and Veronica at the end of the night.

We were trying to teach about 2 Ne 4 and using the strength of the Lord to overcome our difficulties. Luis finally snapped. After nearly 5 months of teaching them, a marriage, and dozen other commitments later, the brick wall of smoking never seemed more insurmountable. Luis protested that nobody in the church is perfect. And he was a lot more righteous than a lot of people. "So why can`t I be baptized? Nobody`s perfect! Just because I smoke doesn`t mean I can`t be baptized. I thought baptism was to clean us. This isn`t what Jesus taught." And then he continued, "If you want to tell me how to live my life, you can stay outside. But this is my choice and my life." Etc. etc. etc.

It was late, I couldn`t feel the spirit. To say that I went back to the apartment discouraged would be an understatement. It was a big setback. Combined with the present circumstances in the area, it was easy to ask God why. Why is missionary work so hard? The heavy burden of the salvation of these persons, not resting upon, but at the very least influenced by the decisions of a couple of teenage boys. I got angry at myself. Why did God let me teach the wrong thing? Why wasn`t I inspired to say other words, or give the lessons in a different order? Or if I was and didn`t listen, why was I given this responsibility in the first place? I knew that I could give myself the answers, but at the same time, I struggled. I feel that I know all of you, the readers well enough, and trust you enough to express to you these personal thoughts and trials of mission work.

My thoughts for the better portion of the weekend, as I reflected on that moment with Luis, were generally reflected in that direction.

I guess in a strange way, I didn`t get a solid answer until yesterday afternoon. As I was walking down the street talking to people. We had a few moderately successful contacts, when I saw an older lady leave from her door to see her son off to work. I complimented her on her beautiful house and began to talk. It wasn`t long into the conversation that I felt something within me, a deep love for the simplicity of her words and the concern for her family I could feel. Naturally, not forced, I offered her the gospel as a solution, and she let us in to offer a prayer with a little persuasion. We had a sweet conversation about the love of God, and the restoration before we left her with a word of prayer. As we walked away, tears filled my eyes as I realized something profound.

"I love her." I said to my companion. "I was able to find that woman, because I can honestly say that I love her."

And suddenly, I realized something deep within me. That I had perhaps looked for over a year for ways to become a successful missionary. I had nearly destroyed myself trying to squeeze out success like the parched juices of an under ripe orange. I might have done successful things, but perhaps not for a successful reason. "The what" was always more important to me than "the why." But last night, I realized something more important than my hair splitting questions and inadequacy from the week before. I realized that I was capable of loving these people, my companion, and this work with all my heart. And that`s the only thing that really matters anyway.