Esplanada in Brasília would be the National Mall of Washington D.C. It is a huge area with a very open, flat space in the middle of all the monuments. In the dry season the grass dies and dust easily floats across the field. It also serves as the center for any large exhibition from concerts to the World Championship of beach volleyball. Because of the large number of people that will be there, trash in the corners is not a stranger. While walking around some of the reflecting pools that sit near the National Museum, I wasn't surprised to see trash on the bottom. What did surprise me was the 5-6 carp that were living and apparently growing because of their large size.
Even with all the improbability, hope is like carp. It's tough and you find it in unusual places.
How do you describe the feelings of returning to a place that has so defined who you are that it is hard to remember who you were before? How do you describe returning to the place where you had so many trials, so many victories, suffered so much and have never been so blessed? It’s a very complicated feeling.
Even with all the improbability, hope is like carp. It's tough and you find it in unusual places.
How do you describe the feelings of returning to a place that has so defined who you are that it is hard to remember who you were before? How do you describe returning to the place where you had so many trials, so many victories, suffered so much and have never been so blessed? It’s a very complicated feeling.
When we began to descend on the airplane, I began to get a
little emotional (I am my mother’s son) and it felt that I was 19 and fresh out
of the MTC. As we waited for the bags to come in, I kept looking at the doors
and remembering seeing President Pizzirani for the first time. But I can’t
describe how wonderful it was to be in the Rodoviara (bus station) and look
down the field and see the congress building. It felt like I had come home.
It’s the dry season right now and so the tan, brown fields
of Brasília are a stark contrast to the green trees of the rainforest. It
reminds me of when I was in Gama and watching every morning to see if a could
would appear and for almost two months I didn’t see a cloud in the sky.
Walking the roads and riding the buses again feels like I
haven’t been gone a day. I can still find my way around and all the names of
the landmarks I used to get around are returning. While I was playing tourist on the Esplanada I actually was asked (and was able to give) directions to people who looked pretty lost.
Alfredo and his family have taken better care of me than any
hotel staff ever could. I am so happy to be back with a family that helped me
so much and to be able to talk and laugh with them. They still call me ‘Elder’
or ‘Barton’ and that’s okay. I didn't think I would ever miss the title of
Elder, until we took the missionaries’ lunch over to them last night. They
still live in the same house where I lived at the end of my mission and did
trades at the beginning. When I started to ask about Elders I had known they didn't recognize any except for Elder House and Elder Robinson. I'm not even old, I'm ancient, buried mission history.
Returning to the areas where I served has been one of the most interesting situations I have ever been in. Traveling alone gives me the chance to think and observe without having to explain or share. Walking down the streets I remember specific houses and the people that I met or passing under a bus stop and remembering being stuck there after my umbrella broke or seeing a sand tornado and remembering trying to clean red dirt out of my shirt afterward. It was like living a hundred stories at once. I would look from story to another and it was one of the coolest things I have ever lived.
All has not been fun and games. On Monday I visited one of the areas where I felt that I had the most success. I will be honest, I was pretty devastated. I was able to visit one of the members that had really helped us out and they shared how all of the people I had taught had stopped coming and then disappeared. Others stopped coming the moment the Elders after me started giving them a little more space as they finished the new member lessons.
I know that my mission wasn't based on the number of people, but hearing that news really hurt. It felt just the same was when members of my own family have fallen away. As I was leaving the members thanked me for my service and example. As I rode the bus home I kept thinking "What service? What was the point the if the church didn't grow?".
For the next few days I didn't leave the house as I worked on the 15 page essay for the Kennedy Center to report on my internship and finish a few more assignments. But part of it was also my fear to visit more areas and find the same scene.
Today I went to visit Gama. Gama is the city that I stayed the longest, 5 transfers between two areas that are separated by about 10 blocks. Gama was the hardest city where I served, in all aspects. Health wise I went from 220 lbs to around 170 lbs and I also went senior in Gama. I also had the chance to serve with Elders Fillmore, Craig and Terra, so it was also one of my best areas for companions. We worked so hard, even with all the problems.
While in Gama Leste with Elder Terra, we were going through a rough transfer. Christmas was coming and we were hoping for a Christmas miracle. While brainstorming ideas during weekly planning, Elder Terra turned to me "Elder Barton, we could sing Christmas carols at people's door and ask to come back later". I don't sing. Elder Terra didn't sing. But we were out of options. So we started singing.
While singing in front of one house we received 3-4 addresses. Only 1 really expressed real interest, Conceição. Over the next few weeks it never worked out for us to teach her and her family. Elder Terra was transferred and Elder Craig and I continued on.
Things didn't improve. One day after an appointment fell through, we passed by Conceição's house and I told Elder Craig, "Let's try here one more time". This time it worked out and three weeks later:
The next day I was transferred to São Sebastiao. Elder Craig continued and baptized everyone else in the photo.
When I went to lunch today I wasn't feeling well on the bus. I was trying to think of what I ate and there wasn't anything that was grabbing my attention. After a few more minutes I realized that it was nervousness. I had only heard from others about how Conceição and her family were doing. As we sat down to eat lunch after some very excited hellos, I asked "How are you doing?", dreading the answer "Great, but we don't really go to church anymore". Conceição looked at me and smiled, "Everyone here is firm and we're at church every Sunday and reading the Book of Mormon".
That's joy.
While things aren't perfect or easy, things are going well. Conceição, Roberta (to the left in the photo) and Rinata (to the right) are working on the men of the family and preparing to go to the temple by the beginning of next year. It was a great visit.
Returning to the areas where I served has been one of the most interesting situations I have ever been in. Traveling alone gives me the chance to think and observe without having to explain or share. Walking down the streets I remember specific houses and the people that I met or passing under a bus stop and remembering being stuck there after my umbrella broke or seeing a sand tornado and remembering trying to clean red dirt out of my shirt afterward. It was like living a hundred stories at once. I would look from story to another and it was one of the coolest things I have ever lived.
All has not been fun and games. On Monday I visited one of the areas where I felt that I had the most success. I will be honest, I was pretty devastated. I was able to visit one of the members that had really helped us out and they shared how all of the people I had taught had stopped coming and then disappeared. Others stopped coming the moment the Elders after me started giving them a little more space as they finished the new member lessons.
I know that my mission wasn't based on the number of people, but hearing that news really hurt. It felt just the same was when members of my own family have fallen away. As I was leaving the members thanked me for my service and example. As I rode the bus home I kept thinking "What service? What was the point the if the church didn't grow?".
For the next few days I didn't leave the house as I worked on the 15 page essay for the Kennedy Center to report on my internship and finish a few more assignments. But part of it was also my fear to visit more areas and find the same scene.
Today I went to visit Gama. Gama is the city that I stayed the longest, 5 transfers between two areas that are separated by about 10 blocks. Gama was the hardest city where I served, in all aspects. Health wise I went from 220 lbs to around 170 lbs and I also went senior in Gama. I also had the chance to serve with Elders Fillmore, Craig and Terra, so it was also one of my best areas for companions. We worked so hard, even with all the problems.
While in Gama Leste with Elder Terra, we were going through a rough transfer. Christmas was coming and we were hoping for a Christmas miracle. While brainstorming ideas during weekly planning, Elder Terra turned to me "Elder Barton, we could sing Christmas carols at people's door and ask to come back later". I don't sing. Elder Terra didn't sing. But we were out of options. So we started singing.
While singing in front of one house we received 3-4 addresses. Only 1 really expressed real interest, Conceição. Over the next few weeks it never worked out for us to teach her and her family. Elder Terra was transferred and Elder Craig and I continued on.
Things didn't improve. One day after an appointment fell through, we passed by Conceição's house and I told Elder Craig, "Let's try here one more time". This time it worked out and three weeks later:
When I went to lunch today I wasn't feeling well on the bus. I was trying to think of what I ate and there wasn't anything that was grabbing my attention. After a few more minutes I realized that it was nervousness. I had only heard from others about how Conceição and her family were doing. As we sat down to eat lunch after some very excited hellos, I asked "How are you doing?", dreading the answer "Great, but we don't really go to church anymore". Conceição looked at me and smiled, "Everyone here is firm and we're at church every Sunday and reading the Book of Mormon".
That's joy.
While things aren't perfect or easy, things are going well. Conceição, Roberta (to the left in the photo) and Rinata (to the right) are working on the men of the family and preparing to go to the temple by the beginning of next year. It was a great visit.
No comments:
Post a Comment