Reunion at the Phoenix Airport

October 10, 2016

Subject: The End of the Journey

As you may recall, a year ago I received surgery and spent six weeks in West Valley, Utah recovering. This resulted in a six week extension to my mission, leading me to return home in November, rather than the scheduled October. After much prayer and thought, my Mission President has concluded to cancel the extension and have me return home on the original date. This means I will depart from Maryland this Thursday and arrive to my native Arizona home with my family, completing my two year mission for the Lord Jesus Christ.

On October 8, 2014, I boarded an airplane to the Missionary Training Center with a suitcase stuffed with way too many white shirts and a side bag full of books I hadn't read, at 4:30 a.m. I had no idea what I was getting myself into, nor did I have a clue to what adventures lay ahead. 

Over the course of the past two years I have journeyed from multi-million dollar mansions to metal sheet trailers. I've met fellow travelers from dozens of countries, spent countless hours engulfed only in records written thousands of years ago, endless doors slammed and opened, and spent an unfathomable amount of effort all for this purpose:

"That perhaps they might bring them to the knowledge of the Lord their God...that they might also be brought to rejoice in the Lord their God, that they might become friendly to one another, and that there should be no more contentions in all the land which the Lord their God had given them." (Mosiah 28:2)

I have poured my heart, sweat, and soul into the work of God for the past two years, resulting in a life molded by faith, hope, and charity. There have been days of sorrow and weeks of rejoicing. From temper tantrums and warm-wrapped hugs, to the taste of a man's breath as he cusses you and your family out, to experiencing the heart-melting smile of a humble heart healed by the grace of God, I have lived what seems like a life-time length of adventures. I join the ancient missionary Ammon in the Book of Mormon by saying, 

" I do not boast in my own strength, nor in my own wisdom; but behold, my joy is full, yea, my heart is brim with joy, and I will rejoice in my God.

  Yea, I know that I am nothing; as to my strength I am weak; therefore I will not boast of myself, but I will boast of my God, for in his strength I can do all things; yea, behold, many mighty miracles we have wrought in this land, for which we will praise his name forever.

 Behold, how many thousands of our brethren has he loosed from the pains of hell; and they are brought to sing redeeming love, and this because of the power of his word which is in us, therefore have we not great reason to rejoice?

  Yea, we have reason to praise him forever, for he is the Most High God, and has loosed our brethren from the chains of hell.

  Yea, they were encircled about with everlasting darkness and destruction; but behold, he has brought them into his everlasting light, yea, into everlasting salvation; and they are encircled about with the matchless bounty of his love; yea, and we have been instruments in his hands of doing this great and marvelous work.

  Therefore, let us glory, yea, we will glory in the Lord; yea, we will rejoice, for our joy is full; yea, we will praise our God forever. Behold, who can glory too much in the Lord? Yea, who can say too much of his great power, and of his mercy, and of his long-suffering towards the children of men? Behold, I say unto you, I cannot say the smallest part which I feel." (Alma 26:11-16)

The friends I've made on this journey alone are a priceless fruit of these two years. I began emailing just a hand full of people in the beginning. Now I hope to stay in touch with the 80+ of you that mean the world to me. Each of you has played a part of my Maryland Baltimore Mission adventure in one way, shape, or form, and I thank you from the bottom of my heart. 

Seek out God. He is there. I am a witness of His love. Experiment on my life's pursuit of the past two years and honestly seek His counsel. Pray with a sincere desire to be in His embrace. Read His word in the Bible and the Book of Mormon and ask Him if they are true. I give you my promise that more happiness than anything you could ask for begins with these simple steps. Trust me on that.

xoxo

Elder Truman Burgess

3636 East Parkview Drive

Gilbert, Arizona

85295

September 26, 2016

Subject: Cooling Cement Adventures

While traveling through labyrinths of apartment complexes and knocking hundreds of doors, we ran across experiences I feel like I should tell. One old man invited us into his cluttered home, sat us down on a couch, then spent twenty minutes ranting to us in mad claims trying to convince us that Christina Agulara is his fiance. One woman yelled through her door asking who was there. It was apparent there were screaming children inside, but we still answered, "The missionaries!" After a long pause of silence the door opened to a crack, her face peaked with an alarmed look on her face, she held out an extended arm through the way and said, "My kid's are sick." I kid you not, there in her clutch dripped a hand full of vomit all over the hallway floor. She retreated before either of us could return from our shock trips and she slammed the door.

Perhaps the craziest experience occurred while returning from an appointment in a complex. The early Autumn dusk rolled its way over the sky, cloaking the already dark courtyard with a clouded haze. Another source of the haze presented itself when we turned the corner and a gang of eight guys in their mid 20's lay/sat around a green electrical box passing around some smokes. In the dim light all we could see clearly were their over abundance of bling and their golden grills grinning to each other. As soon as they spotted us they chucked the blunts into the bushes and stared at us walk by. Just about everyone knows we're "the Jesus Boys", so we don't have to worry too much about getting hassled. Still, this was an incredibly sketchy situation with no street lights or cameras around, so I said a quick prayer and walked on pretending to pay them no heed.

Sure enough, the guy in the middle of the possy called out to us, "Hey! What are you guys doing around here?" We told them we were missionaries for Jesus Christ and he said, "Hm...teach me something about him." A couple homies listened in, but most stared off into their own galaxies of haze with half-shut eyes. We told him that Jesus is the Savior of the world, that His teachings are the only sure way of finding lasting happiness in life, and that we have devoted all of our time and money to serving the Lord for two years.

He asked, "What color was his skin?"

.....you know the conversation is going to get interesting when someone asks that off the bat.

I replied, "Well, he was born and raised in Israel in the Middle-East, so most likely he had olive skin and dark hair. I don't think the color of his skin matters so much, but rather who is is and what he does for us."

"Oh, it matters," he quickly retorted. He cracked a smile then said, "You know Tupac was black Jesus, right?"

Both Elder Ashby and I thought he was joking, since of course no one would rightly believe that the rapper Tupac in the 1990's was the Messiah of the world, and we immediately broke out laughing. He sat up straight flustered and said, "No, no! I'm not trippin! I'm telling you the truth." 

The conversation digressed even further as he told us of his hustling and how Africa was the original continent, and how America stole Africa's name. "The two sound the same...coincidence? Nah. We were the first. You just stole our name," as if Elder Ashby and I represented all of the colonists and even the investors of the English language.

Yet, we ended up making friends with the crew and they said they'd look out for us in the neighborhood. All we had to do was ask about the black beanie baby key chain attached to his belt buckle. He was the father of three little girls. "Hustling" is how he provides for them. We also made a deal that we'd talk to the management to get the basketball hoops fixed. 

Among all of the mosh pot of people we meet on a daily basis, we crossed paths with a man named Troy. At age 24 he was playing street basketball in Philadelphia when he was eye-gouged, detaching both of his retinas. For the past twenty years he has lived 100% blind. 14 of those years he has raised his daughter, Adaja, by himself as a single father. The mother ran away when Adaja was one year old. Even with the most trying and difficult of life situations, Troy is one of the most optimistic people I've ever met. He told us that for the first couple years blinds he was rock bottom alcoholic and depressed. But over years of experiences and humbling he has noticed small and siple things in life that he never paid attention to before. A cooling breeze on a hot day; the sweet song of spring bird ushering away the winter; the embrace of his daughter when he feels no one else is around. In his humility he has opened himself to God and has found meaning and guidance through prayer and having the Bible read to him. The day before we knocked on his door he had prayed with Adaja for "messengers of God to give them more of His word." He has began reading the Book of Mormon with the help of his daughter and welcomes us every time we meet him with a bright smile and open arms.

Surely in the thousands of doors in this area we were led by God directly to this man's plea. It is the reality of whom we represent and the people that we encounter that inspire me to take this place on one day at a time.

xoxo

Elder Burgess

September 19, 2016

Preparation days are always a big deal for missionaries. For us every Monday is set aside from 6:30 a.m. until 6:00 p.m. to grocery shop, clean, do laundry, and whatever time is left is used to hike, play sports, go to the zoo, etc. So you know that as Monday gets closer missionaries already have plans set in store to make the most of it.

Elder Ashby and I geared up and tightened our laces ready to sand-volleyball it up at the Baltimore Inner Harbor sand courts, and drove down the road to carpool with some other missionaries. The normal meet up spot is exactly half-way in between our areas, making it the most efficient way to save our precious car's monthly miles. Unfortunately this half way point happens to be in the thick woods on a sharp turn, side-winding around a river. We parked our car, set foot out the door and noticed a mini van screech around the corner, followed by a loud crash.

Immediately the four of us ran around the corner to see what had happened. A woman named Tasha was driving her nine year old daughter and three year old toddler to a private school when her front left tire popped as she turned the tight corner. Luckily her brakes were working well, so everyone was alright, but they had the dilemma of a popped tire in a mud drenched side of the road. 

She had a spare tire, but no jack or tools to change it. Just so happened that our Ford Fusion had the exact jack needed for the size of her tires, and two of us had job experience specifically changing dozens of tires a day. Oh, and did I mention we weren't wearing our "beloved" white shirts and ties? Mud was a welcomed friend for the moment.

While the other three Elders slipped and slid to take the tire off, I noticed that Tasha was arguing with someone on the phone, leaving her two daughters standing anxiously and scared in the mud. I wiped off my hands, walked up to them, and began asking them what their favorite things to do were.

"Watch t.v." 

"Play on my mom's phone."

....

I knew there had to be something else, so I prodded a little further, "what about.....dancing??"

Immediately both of their faces lit up and the nine year busted into free style dance moves, her little sister looking up to her and trying to mimic her moves. I added in a couple moves, then laughed it off with them and challenged them to a patty-cake contest. Yep.

There on the side of the washed up forest road I had the most intense and enjoyable patty cake clapping game of my life. The three of us ended up laughing our heads off and getting more and more into the game until the other Elders interrupted and gave me a hard time for literally playing patty cake while they changed a tire in the mud.

I looked to the left and saw Tasha folding her arms with the brightest smile on her face, wiping tears away. She told us how grateful she was that we were there at the exact time to help her, both with her kids and with the tire. Also turned out she is looking to join a church with her family. Hm. What a coincidence. ;)

xoxo

Elder Burgess

September 19, 2016

Current Address:

Elder Truman Burgess

3556 Carriage Hill Circle

Apt #101

Randallstown, MD  21133

Subject: Cooling Cement Adventures--

Preparation days are always a big deal for missionaries. For us every Monday is set aside from 6:30 a.m. until 6:00 p.m. to grocery shop, clean, do laundry, and whatever time is left is used to hike, play sports, go to the zoo, etc. So you know that as Monday gets closer missionaries already have plans set in store to make the most of it.

Elder Ashby and I geared up and tightened our laces, ready to sand-volleyball it up at the Baltimore Inner Harbor sand courts, and drove down the road to carpool with some other missionaries. The normal meet up spot is exactly half-way in between our areas, making it the most efficient way to save our precious car's monthly miles. Unfortunately this half way point happens to be in the thick woods on a sharp turn, side-winding around a river. We parked our car, set foot out the door and noticed a mini van screech around the corner, followed by a loud crash.

Immediately the four of us ran around the corner to see what had happened. A woman named Tasha was driving her nine-year-old daughter and three-year-old toddler to a private school when her front left tire popped as she turned the tight corner. Luckily her brakes were working well, so everyone was all right, but they had the dilemma of a popped tire in a mud drenched side of the road. 

She had a spare tire, but no jack or tools to change it. Just so happened that our Ford Fusion had the exact jack needed for the size of her tires, and two of us had job experience specifically changing dozens of tires a day. Oh, and did I mention we weren't wearing our "beloved" white shirts and ties? Mud was a welcomed friend for the moment.

While the other three Elders slipped and slid to take the tire off, I noticed that Tasha was arguing with someone on the phone, leaving her two daughters standing anxiously and scared in the mud. I wiped off my hands, walked up to them, and began asking them what their favorite things to do were.

"Watch t.v." 

"Play on my mom's phone."

....

I knew there had to be something else, so I prodded a little further, "What about.....dancing??"

Immediately both of their faces lit up and the nine year busted into free style dance moves, her little sister looking up to her and trying to mimic her moves. I added in a couple moves, then laughed it off with them and challenged them to a patty-cake contest. Yep.

There on the side of the washed-out forest road I had the most intense and enjoyable patty-cake clapping game of my life. The three of us ended up laughing our heads off and getting more and more into the game until the other Elders interrupted and gave me a hard time for literally playing patty-cake while they changed a tire in the mud.

I looked to the left and saw Tasha folding her arms with the brightest smile on her face, wiping tears away. She told us how grateful she was that we were there at the exact time to help her, both with her kids and with the tire. Also turned out she is looking to join a church with her family. Hm. What a coincidence. ;)

xoxo

Elder Burgess

September 13, 2016

Sizzling Cement Adventures

If you're a member of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints, chances are your life will involve an unusual amount of interviews and meetings for the rest of mortality. There's much to be said in the fullness of the Gospel of Jesus Christ, and much help to be given among our varied and intricate lives. As a missionary we have even more frequent meetings and interviews, though you get used to it after a couple months. From a secular perspective these meetings may seem excessive or over-whelming, and often times in the Church they are perceived that way too, but I have found some of the most powerful spiritual experiences for me have occurred wearing a suit and sitting in a pew, or face to face in an interview with a leader.

This week a man named Elder Robert C. Gay of the Quorum of the Seventy (a group of disciples that travel and counsel with the 12 Apostles across the globe) visited our mission. This is why this email is Tuesday rather than Monday. Anyways, the entire east side of the mission met together in Columbia, Maryland for an interactive discussion with him about missionary work. We all were seated, scriptures out and studying with prelude hymns playing ahead when my spiritual bubble was popped by an Elder at the end of the row sharply whispering, "Elder Burgess! Elder Burgess! President Christiansen (my mission president) wants you to be interviewed by Elder Gay." I set the scriptures on the pew and awkwardly squeezed through the tightly fit missionaries and followed the Elder into the hall. A couple chairs were set outside the room, filled by missionaries varied in size and gender, myself seated as the last interview. Now, I've been in a lot of interviews with people. Mostly they consist of the person interviewing discussing with you how you're doing physically, spiritually, and mentally, and if you have any questions you could use help with. Every time I feel good afterwards and walk out with renewed tips to embark with.

So sitting down in the chair I was confident and relaxed for whatever lay ahead, not a care in the world dwelling on my mind. In fact I took out some fruit snacks I had in my pocket and casually ate like an elementary schooler enjoying his snack time. After just one gummy out came the first Sister missionary that was being interviewed, tears streaming down her face in borderline hysteria, clearly trying to end her sobbing with constant eye rubbing. 

Now I was a little worried.

What happened in there? What lay ahead for me? Oh boy...

Each of the following interviewers entered and left, each with clearly crying eyes or deep looks of thought staring at the ground as they went back into the chapel. Like the last kid to the plate I was on the edge of my seat with anxiety for what awaited me with this prestigious man. Elder Gay is 60/70 year old man who has a PHD in economics from Harvard University, has been the head of flipping companies like Outback Steak House, Staples, Burger King, and Toy R Us, was a mission president in Ghana and the Ivory Coast in Africa, and has served alongside the Prophet and Apostles for the past decade. 

In I walked into the Church classroom not exactly sure what to expect. There he sat on a normal, uncomfortable, metal folding chair looking at some scriptures as I entered the room. His eyes looked up to me and I saw the kindest looking old man chilling reading the Bible. Hm, I thought. All seems ok....surely he's finding scriptures to chastise me with or something. But as we began talking together we discussed school plans, where I'm from, how he just reorganized some church boundaries in Gilbert, Arizona, and how my mission has gone so far. Abruptly he asked, "what is the number one lesson you have learned from your mission?" I thought for a moment, then replied by sharing how I have drawn to a close and intimate relationship with the Grand Creator of the universe, my Father in Heaven who cares for puny me among the incomprehensible enormities of creation unfolded by His hands. I also gave a few other life lessons I've learned on the side, and then all he said in response immediately following my answer was,

"Remember that the Lord will never forsake you. Never forget that." 

Oh. Gee, thanks. A little unexpected, but oh, well, all good, moving on with the interview. Thanks for the tip, I thought. We talked for a little bit longer, then he said, "Alright, our meeting is just about to begin in the other room. Ask me any question about anything," like a genie in a bottle. I thought for a bit, then asked the question that has constantly been on my mind the past two months. I told him how many of my friends have returned home from their missions with zeal and perseverance, then end up forsaking not only the Church, but God Himself. I have thought about why that could be over and over, and the simple conclusion I have come to is that they lack one essential skill. Remembrance. I have had undeniable spiritual experiences with each of these missionaries and friends that a book of scripture could easily be written about, and yet they fall back into their old habits and sins, not only sitting stagnant, but even digressing in virtue, faith, hope, and love. I asked Elder Gay, how can I make sure to remember my life and these experiences that have brought me this far?

He paused, gently smiled, looked down, then deeply stared into my eyes and told me, "If you record your spiritual experiences in ink or in a tangible memory, your mental memory will expand and you will never forsake the Lord. This is how you will know that the Lord will never forsake you." 

The beginning of the interview tied into the conclusion and my heart sputtered with the mental realization of what had just taken place. A true servant of the Lord had answered my prayers and what had dwelt on my mind for months. Sure enough, I made a point to be even more diligent in recording spiritual experiences not only in my journal, but in planners with little notes, even on napkins and candy wrappers to record later. I read through my 1 and 3/4 finished journals from the mission and I was hit with how far I've come with the Savior walking beside me. What an experience. I still don't know what was said for those missionaries to break down in streaming tears, but I do know what was said for me. A life memory recorded as a witness that God will always answer my prayers.

xoxo

Elder Burgess

September 5, 2016

 On a random door knock a lady in cheetah speckled clothes immediately welcomed us into her home. Her husband was playing on the computer and wouldn't come out of his room, so we sat down with cheetah clothes lady named Crystal. 

Whenever we meet someone who begins their conversation with, "I saw a documentary about you," we brace ourselves for whatever may follow. I'm glad I did too, because she had a misunderstanding between us and some terrifying cults in the desert, delivered to us in possibly some of the most colorful and rude language I've heard. Not sure if I should be grateful that she was drinking or not, since she was just as willing to change her mind as she was willing to share it, after we helped clear up that we aren't abusive psychopaths (though not sure about E Ashby yet....heh heh). She definitely wasn't drunk, just a bit tipsy from a wine drink off with her mother-in-law. This led her to ask a few heart-tugging questions about life and statements clearly void of hope in her life as a wife and a mother. I've found that the only real way to connect with someone substantially, both for those sober and those under an influence, is by placing myself in their empathetic shoes and listening. In fact, I'd be willing to say some of the best experiences I've had with ministering have come simply by listening with loving ears. 

Crystal went on for a while, we chimed in a few encouraging words and scriptures, she went on for another while, then stopped abruptly and thanked us for willing to listen to her problems despite being complete strangers.Now, I feel like my new companion Elder Ashby looks like a normal, same age guy like myself. We both have brown hair, both Caucasian, only like three/four inch height difference, similar weights, and we even both wear glasses. Yet I was surprised when squinted eyes followed as she looked between Elder Ashby and I, and she added, speaking to Elder Ashby, "You his boy? He your Pops? You sure look like father and son." 

I never have been called my companion's legitimate father before. I suppose the wine might had something to do with it, but I'll take it as a well placed compliment.

You're never too sure what to expect around here. The remarkable thing to me is that everyone has their own time tables, their own agendas, their own schedules, yet in the jumbled spider web of busyness, miraculous crossroads present themselves turn after turn, setting us in the exact right place and moment needed to help another brother or sister out in their respective dire circumstances. Simply by walking down streets we gather  timeless adventures.

xoxo

Elder Burgess

August 29, 2016

Though we don't have to worry about paying gas money in Mission cars, we do have to be ever watchful of our allotted mileage count for the month. So, as any missionary from our mission will tell you, the end of the month seems to bring in its own stressful eye glancing to the odometer more than usual.

Exchanges, meetings, and leaving behind suits dozens of miles away added up to the end of August, leaving Elder Wind and I with few miles left for the final week. This meant we would proselyte on foot (since I can't bike because of my surgery a year ago ;)) no matter how far our appointments were. Just so happened that they were on the opposite side of the city for us. Throw in 100 degree weather and you have a 9-10 mile round trip trek for a single appointment. Off we went with surprisingly high spirits, off to teach our boy Olakunle from Nigeria. A couple hours later we were drenched in sweat with mouths like cotton, but we finally reached our destination.

You guessed it. No one was home.

Many sighs followed, then we turned back in order to get to our dinner appointment on time. Two old hood women mocked us right off the bat, and jeering from flying cars pushed us onward. Our heads drooped lower and lower as our hamstrings cramped tighter and tighter, until we wearily arrived to dinner. Refreshing as it was, our plans for the rest of the night were shot from cancellations, leaving us to freestyle proselyte like the olden days. 

Before embarking into the evening, we said a prayer together specifically asking for someone to cross our paths ready and willing to learn the Gospel. The prayer came from the bottom of our hearts, sincerely and with real intent. About a mile's walk later we turned down a shoot off street looking for some doors to knock. A small crowd of adults were in a conversation down the block. When they spotted us, a man jogged towards us and shouted, "Hey! Can I have a Bible?"  His niece, nephew, and sister followed him and a miracle happened. We began to teach them the Restoration of the Gospel of Jesus Christ through the Prophet Joseph Smith and all of their hearts were hooked to each word we said. Soon more and more people streamed out of their homes one by one, carrying a chair or a bible, and before we knew it we were teaching an old fashioned sermon. They treated us with unbelievable respect and hospitality, washed to a shine when contrasted by the adversity experienced only a few hours earlier.

Each person literally begged for us to return to teach them more. Sincerity works wonders. I've learned that all the knowledge in the world is useless unless paired with a sincere, humble, and loving heart. Instead of blood sacrifices from the Law of Moses, Christ asks each of us to offer a broken heart and a contrite spirit upon the altars of our pride as a sacrifice to him. The blessings rained from heaven are real, and they are powerful. Whenever you feel that life has you down and you feel alone, reach out with a humble heart and a willing mind to our Eternal Father in Heaven. I promise you He will answer in palpable truth, unparalleled by the  vague vanities of the world. 

Sadly, Elder Wind is transferring to Pennsylvania this week, but my new companion is Elder Ashby, who is actually coming from a six month service in Hancock, MD, one of my former stomping grounds! I bet there will be many stories to share and many more on the horizon.

xoxo

Elder Burgess

August 22, 2016

Sizzling Cement Adventures (Birthday Edition)
August 22, 2106:

20 years old birthday, 21 months into the mission, 22nd of August. That'll only happen once in a lifetime! Too bad too, since not only today, but the entire week was jam packed with deep, intricate lessons with scholars, contrasted with simple yet powerful lessons to children. Lessons were taught to joy-starved addicts in swamps of cigarette fogs, prayers stemmed from door-slammed adversity, and baptisms were aligned for the future. I wish I had time to describe the pictures below and the specifics of the week, but time is short on a preparation day birthday. I leave the interpretation of the pictures to you heh heh >:)

Just remember that no matter the height or heat of our troubles, our Father in Heaven will always be merciful to a penitent, humble, and sincere heart. Lies fade and appearances shift, but the love of God is eternal.

xoxo
Elder Burgess

August 15, 2016

Current Address: Elder Truman Burgess 3556 Carriage Hill Circle Apt #101 Randallstown, MD  21133 Traveling to District Meetings throughout the zone can roll up quite the appetite. Cruising in a town about an hour away from our area, we spotted a Tuesday-special on discount buffalo wings. Within a blink we were parked and ready to engulf our appetites in garlic seasoned lemon-pepper wings and sip some ice cold water to off-set the brutal heat. As we sat, I couldn't help but feel a tug of Spirit to scarf the food down and get moving back to our area. I looked at the clock, realized we had some good time for lunch still, and carried on with the feast. Wing after wing the feeling grew until it became a very uncomfortable mental state for me. Finally I got the waitress for the slim check and we were zooming down the road to return to work.  The first stop in our plans was for a 70 year old Nigerian man named Vincent. We had crossed paths on the street a week prior while he was playing with his grand kids and scheduled a loose "come back early next week before 3:00" appointment. The pull to movemovemove lead to leaping up the apartment stairs and a solid knock on his door.  It opened almost immediately to old Vincent with a slim smile and bright eyes who welcomed us in warmly. He told us his life story, how the Catholic Church had helped him from a young boy in Africa, how his wife died, and of the hard trek it was to travel to the U.S. We taught a few points of the Restoration of the Gospel and what our purpose is as missionaries, and oh boy did he soak it up. He said, "I have enjoyed the Catholic Church, but if you can teach more of Jesus Christ and how i can live with Him, I will do anything you ask me to. I will worship with you and I will be a member of your Church."  Try to find a missionary that wouldn't love to hear that! He then answered my mystery as to why I felt so prompted to visit: "I prepared myself and my home for you to visit today. I was right on the couch praying for your visit. If you did not come within the thirty minutes, I never would open my door to you for as long as I live." My heart skipped a beat. Vincent taught me a few valuable lessons, particularly in the importance of keeping an open channel to the still, small voice of the Holy Spirit, no matter what situation you may be in. We have such a small tunnel vision of the cogs turning around us that it is imperative to listen to Him who sees the whole picture. Most of the time we can't see why we are being led or prompted, but if we live on the wind of the Spirit and trust in the real guide, God has promised that we will witness after the trial of our faith. Who would have thought that serving a domestic mission would involve so much divine language study? ;) xoxo Elder Burgess

August 15, 2016

Current Address: Elder Truman Burgess 3556 Carriage Hill Circle Apt #101 Randallstown, MD  21133 Traveling to District Meetings throughout the zone can roll up quite the appetite. Cruising in a town about an hour away from our area, we spotted a Tuesday-special on discount buffalo wings. Within a blink we were parked and ready to engulf our appetites in garlic seasoned lemon-pepper wings and sip some ice cold water to off-set the brutal heat. As we sat, I couldn't help but feel a tug of Spirit to scarf the food down and get moving back to our area. I looked at the clock, realized we had some good time for lunch still, and carried on with the feast. Wing after wing the feeling grew until it became a very uncomfortable mental state for me. Finally I got the waitress for the slim check and we were zooming down the road to return to work.  The first stop in our plans was for a 70 year old Nigerian man named Vincent. We had crossed paths on the street a week prior while he was playing with his grand kids and scheduled a loose "come back early next week before 3:00" appointment. The pull to movemovemove lead to leaping up the apartment stairs and a solid knock on his door.  It opened almost immediately to old Vincent with a slim smile and bright eyes who welcomed us in warmly. He told us his life story, how the Catholic Church had helped him from a young boy in Africa, how his wife died, and of the hard trek it was to travel to the U.S. We taught a few points of the Restoration of the Gospel and what our purpose is as missionaries, and oh boy did he soak it up. He said, "I have enjoyed the Catholic Church, but if you can teach more of Jesus Christ and how i can live with Him, I will do anything you ask me to. I will worship with you and I will be a member of your Church."  Try to find a missionary that wouldn't love to hear that! He then answered my mystery as to why I felt so prompted to visit: "I prepared myself and my home for you to visit today. I was right on the couch praying for your visit. If you did not come within the thirty minutes, I never would open my door to you for as long as I live." My heart skipped a beat. Vincent taught me a few valuable lessons, particularly in the importance of keeping an open channel to the still, small voice of the Holy Spirit, no matter what situation you may be in. We have such a small tunnel vision of the cogs turning around us that it is imperative to listen to Him who sees the whole picture. Most of the time we can't see why we are being led or prompted, but if we live on the wind of the Spirit and trust in the real guide, God has promised that we will witness after the trial of our faith. Who would have thought that serving a domestic mission would involve so much divine language study? ;) xoxo Elder Burges

August 8, 2016

Sizzling Cement Adventures

Hitting the ghetto apartment stacks is never the same experience twice in a row. Hoodlums line the streets, baby mommas roll past with double strollers, and the parking lots are traffic jams. It amazes me how nice the brand new Mercedes Benzes, BMWs, Audis, and Cadillacs are in the lots when the apartments are run-down to the max. Still, there are always adventures that accompany our visits to the same complexes. 

One complex in particular has a lot of hoodlums chilling on the curbs and benches around. At first they yelled at us to leave and "stop spreddin dat false docter-in", but when we told them what we're all about and that we're from out west (which is like telling youngsters fairy tales of a far off land) they accepted us and now wave and tell any passer-by that we're the Mormon Preacher Boys, though sometimes they still call us 7th Day-Adventists or Jehovah's Witnesses. Oh well. 

When we asked the gang whom we should visit in the area they told us of a man named Church. Yup. That's his name. Apparently he proselytes around town as well, though they spoke of him as if he were a myth. No one could point us to the exact apartment until we stumbled across it ourselves.

In a far back door in the furthest corner's building we knocked into the much awaited Church. An older brother over six feet and well set with weight opened the door and a swirling wave of incense smoke swept over us. He squinted his eyes, saw "JESUS CHRIST" on our name tags, and exclaimed a deafening "PRAISE THE LORD," and welcomed us into his home. At the circle kitchen table in the corner sat six teenage girls from the 'hood playing poker, and two young toddler boys sat on a couch by the door playing on phones. All we got off our tongues was the question, "Are these your family members?" before he answered in the most vague, "Some people could say that. One way or another God keeps us knit and faithful, but not family, but still," and went off on one of the craziest Bible rants I've ever witnessed (and I've been the victim of my fair share). 

He wouldn't listen to anything we said, but sent us off with a "warm" farewell with a group circle prayer. All of the kids and teenagers ran up into a circle and held our hands. I was between Church and Elder Wind, so I was good,  but the sketchy teenage girls fought for a place to hold Elder Wind's incredibly uncomfortable hand. Poor Elder Wind. To make it worse that was even the same injured hand from last week's situation. The prayer was dramatic and eye-opening, and, before we knew what had happened to us, we were back on the streets again. 

Everywhere i serve it's like I'm in a different world. I've never had to pep talk and uplift an abandoned 14 year old boy in the hood whose only newfound family was a charismatic gang of fairly decent 20 year old brothuhs.  His name was Bry. He never knew his father, has been bouncing from house to house with his mom until finally she felt he was dead weight and left him to be by himself. The sadness in his eyes struck me to the bone. Yet in promising him hope in the Savior and His Atonement and explaining how to look up in these dark times, a smile flashed on his face with light in his eyes and my heart melted for the privilege to be the instrument of God to uplift this young kid. Though he couldn't give us any contact information, he held that Book of Mormon to his heart with a grip that could shake the world. The hope of the Gospel is so often over looked in our good times that serving among people in their worst of times has opened my eyes further to the gift and responsibility we have been given. Rough times are destined to confront us. Only through the Gospel are we promised to reach a life of joy.

xoxo

Elder Burgess

August 1, 2016

In case you saw something on the News about Baltimore flooding, we are all good and fine here in Randallstown. The storm was one to remember and the rushing currents through the streets tore up the bottom of our car, but we're all good now!

With the summer storms comes summer humidity, and as August rolls in we get higher temperatures all together. When the heat increases, my water intake increases, and when my water intake increases, so does the amount of bathroom trips I take. i know it's summer when I wake up every night with a mission to trek to the bathroom in our pitch black apartment. 

Our apartment is surrounded by street lights and apartment lights to try to cut back on crime, so we have to cover up our windows to stop the blinding light from flooding in our precious sleep hours. We've got it so dark you can't see your own hand in front of your face. This is nice to fall asleep to, but fumbling through the dark leads to a ton of stubbed toes and broken lamps. Last Monday night I awoke at the usual 3:00 a.m. to do my business. Step after steady step I made my way to the bedroom door. Finally I reached the door and I creaked it slowly open, hopefully not waking up State-Wrestling champ Elder Wind. 

As soon as i opened the door its full width I heard a deafening, "AHHHHHHHHHH! I'LL KILL YOU!!"

In an instinctive flow of movement, which thought I have no recollection of, I quickly closed the door just in time to hear two whopping BAMs that shook the door and door frame. 

Warily I creaked the door open slowly after a couple shocked seconds and asked, "Elder Wind? What are you doing?" 

His mattress was strewn across the floor, the lamp was cracked and shattered on the ground, and there sat Elder Wind on my mattress with a streaming bloody hand. I looked at the door and door frame and witnessed two HUGE holes blown into the door and the dry wall next to the door frame. Apparently Elder Wind had heard a sound out in the front room that he was tripping out on, thinking that someone had broken into the home. I also didn't know Elder Wind has a phobia of someone breaking into his house. So there he was lying awake in fear just hoping the intruder would go away when the bedroom door creaked slowly open and there in the doorway stood a shadowy tall figure looming above him. A rage of fight or flight hit him and he flung towards the door and smashed his elbow and fist in a blind strike of survival.

Very close to shock, Elder Wind told me while I was bandaging his blasted hand that he had the intent of destroying the life of the intruder. E Wind felt like the biggest fool afterwards and apologized profusely. I've had many companions with night problems in one way or another, so I told him it was all good. I'm just happy I closed that door.

Needless to say, now we have a rule that I wake him up before I use the bathroom every night.

:)

Our congregation's boundaries are somewhat strange compared to other congregations I've served in. A long reservoir severs our area in half. To the west of the reservoir lies farm land and wealthy homes.  The other set of Elders covers that side on bikes. To the East of the reservoir begins the stretch into Baltimore, almost rushing the water closer and closer with concrete strips of stacked apartment buildings and run down restaurants. We cover the East side. It's difficult to spot an impoverished home on the west side, and just as difficult to spot a wealthy home on the east. I'm not exactly sure why this is, but it's startling how drastic the change is and how quickly it changes.

An average day consists of insane door knockings in packed apartment complexes, opening to the widest assortment of people, including a large number of Muslim refugees from Africa and the Middle East. Some names of people we're teaching consist of Olajide, Udama, Odilichukwu, Okeke, Jebboe, and an old woman named Precious. Concerns are raised that I've never experienced resolving before, like why they can't have the title, "Elder", or people literally on the other side of the planet placing pressure to stay away from changing their religious beliefs. Many of our investigators have been shot at, run out, lived on the streets, are single parents, or are heavily addicted to heroine or meth. 

Yet amid all of this adversity we are still able to illuminate these homes with the eternal light of Jesus Christ. The hope of Salvation and a better tomorrow can lift lives regardless of previous experiences. It is an honor and a lifetime privilege to help these world-traveling brothers and sister rise to a life filled with joy, hope, faith, and a never-ending love from our Father in Heaven. Keep an eye out for those you you cross paths with that you normally would gravitate away from this week. Sometimes a simple smile can brighten a day's worth of challenges.

xoxo

Elder Burgess

July 25, 2016

New Address:

Elder Truman Burgess

3556 Carriage Hill Circle

Apt #101

Randallstown, MD

21133

Subject: "Sizzling Cement Adventures"

There aren't many more stark differences than the Shenandoah Valley and the ghetto suburbs of Baltimore. After the two and a half hour drive transfer, I was looking forward to seeing what Randallstown in the Eldersburg, Maryland Ward was like. Boy did I get thrown a new one.

Generally, I'm the type of guy who says hi to strangers. Back in VA I developed a habit of always waving to cars and people passing by, regardless of if I knew them or not. Everyone seems to have their own wave out there that they stick with; some wave with a full pass of the hand, some shoot up a quick hand, some nod their head, etc. Though I didn't realize it, my wave was a nod of the head and an index finger extension. 

So here I am ten minutes in a fresh new area comprised of refugees and impoverished city folk, I a clear minority in a 100% black population all hustling and bustling in borderline suicidal j-walks and by far the most aggressive driving I've seen in my life, and my companion Elder Wind hands me the keys with a mischievous grin on his face and says, "You get to drive this transfer."

First stop was the grocery store. Wave #1, wave #2, wave #3, "How's it going's" were thrown out left and right, and I got the consistent, disgusted looks of death shot at me. Man, I thought the whole world was hating me. Then I realized I was giving the point, thanks to a head's-up from Elder Wind. Apparently the people around here don't like being casually pointed at by a caucasian male in official dress shirt and tie. And, sure enough, as soon as I stopped the point and cut back on the greetings, I flowed on with the hustle current.

It's a little strange acclimating to a faster rhythm of life. The first couple days were rough, but now I zoom in and out of traffic like a pro, connect with hoodlums on the same wavelength, and teach repentance like nobody's business with Elder Wind. Though the concrete mixed with buffering heat waves are a bit jarring, the amount of investigators and people that want to honestly listen to and commit to the Restored Gospel of Jesus Christ is amazing. All but one of the people we are teaching are African immigrants, and a couple are refugees. Their stories are humbling to hear, but their journeys of pain and hardship have led them to seek out God with all of their hearts. I've never taught people so ready to feast on the good word of God on such a regular basis my whole mission. Recognizing the words of eternal life streaming out of my mouth and directly into the heart of a brother or sister in need is an experience I will always remember for the rest of my life.

Thank you for all of your support!

xoxo

Elder Burgess