November 23, 2015 Guess who's back

I have a dozen friends serving missions in Spanish speaking areas. Whether it be Spain, Peru, mexico, Argentina, Chile, or Spanish speaking in California, Arizona, or Colorado, each and every one of them has told stories about how much food you are fed. Never before have i given them respect about too much food until my first exchange into a Spanish speaking area in my District. This is the first transfer that Spanish Elders have been with me and woowee would I gain weight if I were there. For dinner the Spanish Branch President's wife whipped out a massive self heated skillet. Elder Skarda didn't tell me what we would eat nor how much we would eat, so I had loaded up with a foot long meatball marinara sub two hours earlier. Suddenly this Sister began tossing papusa (idk how to spell that) after papusa onto this skillet in a frenzy, both hands wielding metal spatulas flying around her. After two minutes or so on the skillet, she swiftly slid each one onto my plate one by one like a conveyor belt while I did my best to scarf them down. Apparently the faster you eat in a Spanish home the more they think you want, leaving me in destined downward spiral of indigestion. In the end I ate 11 papusas. Elder Skarda ate 4.

Immediately after dinner we played an intense round robin tournament of indoor soccer with twenty crazy good Hispanic players who wouldn't speak a lick of English. I ended up with indigestion to the moon and saying aqui and lo siento constantly. Needless to say, I have enormous respect for Spanish Elders now. :)

The wooded farmlands and hills of Pennsylvania offer no housing developments, neighborhoods, or streets to tract out. The occasional farmstead has four or so homes of one family, but normally one answer stays consistent throughout the family. This has led Elder Tausaga and I to be much more creative in our finding efforts than ever before. Working with other active members to help them interact with their friends, to help them in their own difficulties and hardships, is a huge focus for us. Luckily the members have us over every night for a meal and instruction to help them do missionary work in their own lives. This area is cold, windy, and wild, but the warmth and love of the ward family here makes up for it tenfold. (did I just say tenfold?) Our investigator Zoe had been working towards baptism on December 5 before I came into the area. Since I have been here we've only taught her one lesson,and we haven't had contact with her at church or in person for the past two weeks. Elder Tausaga doesn't quite understand the idea that if someone doesn't reply to your text that day you don't text repeatedly every day. :).

Despite the hardships of working here, God still leads us to those in need. Friday night we were on an old country road in the middle of nowhere, walking to the scattered trailer homes up on their own hills. 'Get losts' and 'Get outs' followed us one by one until it was ten minutes before our dinner appointment. In the freezing pitch dark woods, down-trodden and weary, we were more than ready to take off. However, as we began to turn to the car, I spotted a flickering light in a window just beyond us on the steepest hill. Something inside me beckoned to just knock this one more home in our last ten minutes. Upward we climbed to the old rundown trailer home, greeted by three ferocious yapping chihuahuas and an old rusty axe leaning on the door. Still, we knocked. The door creaked open to reveal a blanket wrapped 30 yr old, normal looking lady with a distraught but gentle look on her face. She was a newborn mother in a trailer that had no heat besides a few lanterns and her tiny baby had two cleft feet and struggled to breathe. Her fiance worked as many hours as he could at the sand mine an hour away, trying his hardest to supply for this little family in need. As we began to discuss the hope of Christ and His teachings that bless families forever, a smile lit up across her face i could tell hadn't been there for far too long. The cold disappeared, our hearts were renewed, and our souls were at ease. We go back tomorrow with our ward mission leader to teach the whole family the Restoration of the Gospel of Jesus Christ. 

The wonder of difficulties in the broad spectrum of our lives is the inevitability that someone else is walking through the very same challenges with you. Not only is Jesus Christ eternally reaching out his hand to stride beside you, but individuals live in their own worlds of pain, looking for someone to help comfort them just the same. Thanksgiving gives a priceless opportunity to look back on the beauty and glory of living alongside our family, friends, and fellow human beings in a world who's unparalleled glory can be felt in a simple hug. I am grateful for my life, for my liberty, for my family, for my friends. I am grateful for my God, His love, and His strength. I am grateful for the bone chilling nights, the shotguns pulled, the consistent no's and leg numbing hills. For every dead end leads to a turn around. The one smile that melts a heart is worth gratitude of the entire soul.

Happy Thanksgiving ;)

xoxo

Elder Burgess

November 16, 2015

The cold bit to the bone last Saturday evening as Elder Tausaga and I huddled from home to home knocking a small farm neighborhood. Wind is the major killer out here, especially when in the narrow valleys, so we were looking for anybody to just let us in for some shelter. Lately here in the Hancock area we have discovered people generally don't like outsiders, and outsiders that go door to door trying to push into your life and discuss religion are liked even less. Our desperation for warmth led us to the final house in the small cluster of the valley, a house faintly lit by a small dirt road street light down the way. On the porch we made out an old woman who stood staring at us. I guess I forgot the story of Hansel and Grettle because we ran on up to her porch and asked if she would hear our message of Christ's full teachings.

For the record, she told us a man was inside, so we went in to the old colonial home. Immediately we were hit with a wall of stench unrivaled by any other putrid thing I've smelled. Within just the front room I spotted at least thirty full grown cats lounging around in absolute filth, meowing up a catastrophe (get it) of racket that, paired with the atrocious smell that I could taste, nearly sent me packing to the floor. Elder Tausaga is even worse with smells than I am but when he doesn't like something he doesn't say a word. The only way you can tell when he's upset is by the shriveled expression that knots his face. Needless to say, this was one of the worst places I've ever been in. We shortly found out this woman was horribly deranged and spoke frantically and didn't comprehend anything we said, she totally lied about the man inside just to let us in (unless he was dead), and that we needed to leave asap. Possibly the 50+ cats she had were past travelers caught in her evil spell.

Aside from that, we had a lively week. I pet a hedgehog, a knight-worthy horse larger than any animal I've stood next to, a bunch of newborn bunnies, four near rabid hairless dogs, and a corn snake. If you've ever read the book, "All Creatures Great and Small", that is pretty much what life out here is like. Old fifth generation farmers and young hick hunters take up the majority of our company, although every now and then you'll meet someone who's not related to the five massive family blood lines in the area. Hendershots, Mellotts, Schrievers, Goldens, and Hartmans own this place, all of which have the oldest living members in leadership positions in the Church here. I've never lived in a place like this before.

A representative of Missionary Headquarters in Salt Lake City visited our mission leadership meeting last Thursday. He managed to set the 30 of us in flame of debate over what rules should change, our focuses, etc, but really had in mind what was going to happen before it even began. Coming out of that meeting, almost all of the logistical aspects of our missionary work have changed dramatically. Many of the missionaries present were upset, confused, or contentious when they left because of the changes. For me, logistical differences in how you do missionary work fade in importance to why you do missionary work. True conversion to the Gospel of Jesus Christ means being infused with the why of life. Why am I here? Why do I care? Why do I love? Why does God love me? The answers to these soul searching questions can only be found through living the questions, searching with our eyes and hearts wide open to receive the bounty this beautiful Earth has in store. Heavenly Father has prepared the way. Jesus Christ has led the way. It's up to us to follow the way. The why is the way ;)

At the end of the day, teaming back up with cheerful Elder Tausaga in this outland of forests brings the smile on my face to carry on. I wouldn't like to be anyone or anywhere else than who and where I am now. :)

xoxo

Elder Burgess

November 9, 2015

oh and my new address is:

216 1/2 Jackson Street

Apt 2

Hancock, MD

21750

idk why it's 216 and a half, but it is what it is

On Mon, Nov 9, 2015 at 2:06 PM, Truman Burgess <truman.burgess@myldsmail.net> wrote:

There's nothing quite like dumping 30 year old cannery foods one by one into massive buckets in 40 degree, 20 mph winds, 50% humidity weather with a companion who speaks only English he learned in downtown Baltimore and the scriptures. The "foods" were either shriveled into fungus puffing pods, dissolved into metallic tar, or just plain white and black mold. A member in the Hancock, Maryland ward needed our help to open the jars, so we ended up doing the whole shabang. Despite how I've begun to make this place sound, it truly is an amazing part of the country.

My area stretches from mid West Virginia on upwards through the tiny sliver of Maryland (that's where our apartment is) and spreads on out into Pennsylvania, specifically a little past the town of Needmore. Funky names out here. Massive waves of mountainous hills roll the landscape, forested with thousands on thousands of deciduous trees, all of which have lost their leaves by now. Clouds barely edge over the peaking hills and get trapped into the narrow valleys below. Our apartment is situated on the top of a smaller hill, giving us an awe inspiring view I have yet to take a worthy picture of. One day :)

Most of the ward members live in Pennsylvania, so that's where we spend most of our time. Wilderness is definitely the word to describe the land out here, but also the describe the people too. This area has very few jobs other than farming, lumber, and woodworking, leaving many of the people oldddddd timers. Long beards and pot bellies are pretty much a given, as well as tons and tons of guns. Hunting is the number one past time here and the people care very little for the local laws and customs. It's perfectly normal to see men lurching around huge rifles and shotguns down the street to the diner, completely covered in blood from their feet to chest, a huge elk thrown in the back of their 1960/70's pick up trucks.

My companion is unlike anyone I have ever met. His name is Elder Tausaga, a full blooded Samoan who knew little to no English before entering the MTC for only twelve days. He's been out in the mission for eight months or so, but that's apparently not nearly enough time to learn English. xD Back on his home island his life consisted of professional volleyball for his job, his hobbies being hunting giant dog-sized bats in the jungle mountains, catching and eating wriggling fish with his hands in the ocean, and beating strangers up for sport. The only food he buys is rice and canned salmon for breakfast, lunch, and dinner. Despite how his past sounds, Elder Tausaga is one of the most charitable, sincere, and heart-warming people I think I'll ever meet. He knows how to do missionary work despite the language difficulties and greets everyone with a true smile. Only for humans, though.

Elder Tausaga has a strange hatred for all living animals besides kittens, humans, horses, and spiders. I explain to him wild creatures form Africa like Giraffes, Rhinos, and show him squirrels and Hawks. No matter what it is, his eyes focus and he says, "I will keewl it." We were driving through the windy roads of West Virginia when in the middle of the road sat a buzzard, or vulture, a great big carrion bird. I pulled over and explained to him what it was, but before I could stop him he was outside the car, picking up a hefty rock over his head to throw at the bird. I quickly held him in place and put the stone down, but he kept saying, "I will keewl it and I will eat it." 

So that's one thing to work on. He's teaching me how to be 100% heartfelt in teaching and I'm teaching him how to love animals and not eat wild vultures. Give and take, I suppose :)

The best part about this area is the feeling of home whenever I enter a member's house. To them I become a part of their family, not even a guest but a son or brother. Out here people put away biases or grudges to welcome in a fellow wanderer in this strange, cold land. And holy cow do they have good senses of humor. I can go full blast hilarity level and they bounce right back. The warmth of unconditional love is far worth the cold walk home.

Keep going strong and don't eat vultures.

xoxo

Elder Burgess

 If it weren't for the White Handbook these would have been oursAs goofy as ever

Elder Tausaga in his leather coat only he could pull off as a missionary