My new companion is Elder Orchard. He's an ancient missionary from Las Vegas. He's going to finish his mission this transfer. He's 5' 5" and I would conservatively estimate that he benches twice as much as I do. And I'm like. Ten inches taller. So. That's embarrassing. Also, we totally go to the gym in the mornings.
Being a zone leader is one heck of a job. I went up to this place called Sabana Grande de Boyá to do some baptismal interviews. Sabana Grande de Boyá is like Consuelo. It was wonderful. It smelled like cow dung and I felt right at home. I wish I knew how to type a hashtag so that I could hashtag:cachevalleylandof72000cows. Do people still hashtag? I dunno. But the interviews were fairly uneventful. We were told that the guy who was supposed to be interviewed was somewhere on a sugar cane plantation looking for lost sheep (kind of ironic, huh?) and so we didn't even end up getting to do the interview. hastag:campoproblems. BUT! I did get to write in my journal for the first time since transfers. Oh my unborn posterity is going to kill me.
But it comes with perks! I got to do an intercambio with a trainee named Elder Rosales who's from Honduras and is serving in.... Los. Solares. Yeah. My old stomping grounds. And I discovered something very important. I really love Los Solares. It's not just the bomb-diggety chicken empanadas from a licensed D'Maykel franchise. Nor is it the friendly colmado owner, Freddie, who always told me that everything only costed ten pesos when it did not in fact cost ten pesos. Freddie helps though. No, as I walked down that street in Los Solares, it just felt like home.
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| Zone Conference |
Which is an extremely weird thought, because Los Solares is nothing like home. But it felt that way. It's also interesting because, well, it's been nearly a year since I was last there. Everything was so familiar. But also totally different. Some roads that were dirt are now paved. Juice costs like 80 pesos (!!!) New houses were built. There were different people behind the counter at the cafeteria and internet center by the house. It was the same. But different.
I think going home will be kind of like that. I don't mean to talk about going home, but as of this Wednesday, I have exactly three months remaining. That's like. A little over one scout camp season. That's really not long at all. This feeling of being an old man in the mission is odd. Becoming a better missionary has become the object of my existence for the last twenty months, and I'm still doing it, but I'm doing it with the knowledge that in a lot of cases, I'm preparing things here for someone else. The whippersnappers. The greenhorns. The younguns.
And that's okay. It's an important job and someone's gotta do it. Just feels weird is all.
But hey! Love you all and hope you have a great week!
Love,
Dallin
P.S. Sorry for the lack of pictures. I still haven't found my camera cord since being transferred.
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