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

July 11, 2016

Just about every baptism I've had so far on the mission has had some last-minute stress case. The baptismal clothes are missing, the font's drain plug doesn't work, the water heater is broken, etc. However this Saturday threw us a problem every missionary hopes they never see...when the investigator doesn't show up!

Darlene Hallman's baptism was scheduled for Saturday at 2:00. The baptismal font here in Woodstock takes about three hours to fill to the right depth at a good, warm temperature, so we were there at 11:00 to set everything up and print out the programs. 1:30 rolls around and the early attendees begin to stream in. Apparently there was a massive car accident on the freeway on the way down the valley to Woodstock, making the traffic atrocious for anyone southward bound.

Sign #1.

The font is filled, the prelude music playing, the speakers ready, everything is on way to a good solid baptismal experience. 1:50 and no Darlene.

Sign #2.

Perhaps the old couple that was going to pick her up are running late on the road. We call Darlene on her cell phone, she answers and tells us that she's still at home waiting for her ride to pick her up. We assure her the couple is on their way, hang up, and figure they'll be about 20 minutes late now. As soon as we hang up the phone, we look over to the glass door on our left and in come the completely unaware 80 year old couple who were supposed to pick her up.

Sign #3.

Driving fast from the church building to where Darlene lives is normally about a 20 minute drive one-way. Throw in the bumper to bumper traffic and a now two-way drive...we were looking at an hour+ before the program began. Our Bishop and another Brother immediately got in his car to go pick her up, Elder Gorman began a baptismal interview for another investigator from Luray ward, and I was left to carry on an hour pre-service for twenty old timers and a couple families with rambunctious toddlers. Keep in mind that Darlene is 72, has many health problems, and is legally blind, so she wouldn't have anyone else baptize her other than me, so this whole time I'm in a bright white jump suit with no shoes on.

We sang a few songs, shared some testimonies of baptism, had a little white jump suit sermon from yours truly, the Relief Society President pulled through with pre-service refreshments, and finally Darlene arrives. The actual service commences and the baptismal ordinance begins.

Now, I knew that Darlene's eye sight is horrible and she can't drive, but that's with glasses on. I hadn't given any thought to what she would be like without any glasses on at all. Turns out all she can see without glasses are blurs of color and mix-matched dots of focus that fly in and out of view. Take away her cane and there she is, totally scared and uncertain where to step down, where she'll be led, who will help her; the whole bit. 

The incredible part about this all was how fluid and successful the situation became. There have been times where I have spoken according to the Holy Spirit and I had no idea what was being said. There have been times when I've given priesthood blessings that the promised blessings streamed out of my lips without any effort of my own in power. But this was the first time where the Holy Ghost literally moved through my body and my words to comfort and direct Darlene step by step into the water. I didn't have to think of a single action, of what to say to comfort her, nothing. I led her to the middle of the font, offered the baptismal prayer, and fully immersed her into the waters of baptism. As she came up she had a wide-spread smile of relief and happiness that reassured me of how much of a saint she already was before making the covenant, and how she will be lifted in the days to come.

 19 And this greater priesthood administereth the gospel and holdeth the key of the mysteries of the kingdom, even the key of the knowledge of God.

20 Therefore, in the ordinances thereof, the power of godliness if manifest. (D&C 84:19-20)

xoxo

Elder Burgess

Unfortunately the computer won't load the baptismal pictures of Darlene, so here's a picture Bishop Wright took as I was helping Darlene use a giant magnifying computer to read the Book of Mormon:

pics

July 6, 2016

A banjo playing, mandolin plucking, harmonica jamming hill-billy bluegrass Fourth of July hoedown was quite the sight for Elder Gorman's South African eyes. He'd never heard nor seen such a thing in his 22 years on the planet. Man I wish I would have had a picture of his face when we went up requested them to play "You Are My Sunshine". They spoke straight southern country babbles in response. Though E Gorman was a little perplexed I managed to understand the "yessir that's my momma's favorite tune" just enough to nod and smile in confidence. Holidays are always weird on the mission, but my two Fourth of July celebrations have not been a let down. As my love of God, family, and my fellow people increases, so does my gratitude for the freedoms I enjoy and take for granted too often here in the U.S. Patriotism definitely means a lot more to me now.

Now that Summer's in its full swing of heat bashes, it seems like knocking doors takes precedence in the day hours just like last year on Kent Island. Vacations hastily lift families to other states and beaches, work still continues for adults, and investigators dot in and out of contact with their hectic schedules. There we were in a dusty gravel trailer park knocking on doors that have beat down cars half rolled in when I realized my back was so sweaty it was dripping through my shirts and down behind me in trail. I'm not sure I've caught glance of that phenomenon in the actual dropping motions before. Fatigued and over heated we knocked on the trailer park's owner's home. Nothing. Despite the let downs, air conditioning was a godsend on the ride to the next stop. 

That night as we planned out the next day were contemplating where we should go. Immediately Elder Gorman and I both got the impression to return to the despised trailer park to knock on the owner's home again at the exact same time. It made zero logical sense, but we decided to go with the impression and have faith that God would lead us to where we needed to be.

This time a thick overcast cloud cover offered shade but added humidity as we rolled up to the house. Hopeful and a little unsure of ourselves we journeyed up the steps to the thick wooden door. To our amazement a woman opened up, raised her brows at first sight of us, and smiled as she exclaimed, "Mormons! I love Mormons!" She told us her name was Deborah and her two best friends for years were Mormon but they moved away. In their years of knowing each other Deborah always had a little push in her mind to ask them why they were so happy, even in hard circumstances, but she never acted on her curiosity. Now with us right there on her porch she asked us, "Why are you so happy?"

The question is one we each need to ask ourselves from time to time. "Can I confidently say I'm happy?" I thought about it for a moment, then replied, I know who I am, I know God, I know he loves me, and I know that he's guiding me on a path bound for freedom. 

Perhaps the recent Fourth of July celebration had eeked its way into the  reply, but what I said I meant. Elder Gorman followed up with the three principles of happiness in faith, hope, and charity, and we began teaching of the Restoration of the Gospel. Her life had been in the deep end of darkness and she was starving for hope. A light from God has reached down to her to grab a hold of and now she's climbing out onward to a fresh life of joy. 

Miracles like these tend to begin in ugly, dusty, and sweaty circumstances, yet they bloom from adversity into newfound hopes and realities. Beginning to understand our individual roles in the grand orchestra of God is a humbling and inspiring experience.

xoxo

Elder Burgess

June 27, 2016

As far as I know, I've only been published in a local newspaper once on my mission. That was back in the winter in the small town of Hancock, MD, on a column in the back page of the weekly paper titled, "New LDS missionary in town". Don't get me wrong, I have the cut out piece of paper and it's pretty cool, but now it's stepping up another notch. 

Every Friday we volunteer at the county animal shelter in Edinburgh, VA. It's easily the most enjoyable service on our schedule because all they have us do for two hours is take out each dog, cat, kitten, and puppy and play with them. We don't even have to clean up after them! What began as a volunteer idea has now become somewhat of a weekly therapy session for us. This Friday I was chilling with a newcomer stray dog named Gloria, who was supposed to be overly energetic, but apparently we balanced each other out. There I was leaning against a fence with a dog on my lap when two old ladies exited the back door of the building and walked towards us in the kennels. Word on the street spread that the missionaries were doing some really hard community service, because these two reporter/columnist ladies from the local newspaper came to write a story on the relationships we have with the animals! They went full photographer mode as I chilled with Gloria and while three Jack Russell Terrier puppies untied Elder Gorman's shoelaces. 

Aside from public recognition for playing with animals, we've had quite the week of ups and downs. Our investigator Darlene is steady on date for baptism on July 9th and her husband who likes to be called Fatboy is set on cookin us up some groundhogs for dinner. Not sure what to think about that yet.

A miraculous meeting hit us when a former investigator named Warren bumped into us after leaving to Guatemala for three years, leaving his lessons with the missionaries behind. He has the very same Book of Mormon the Elders left him three years ago with their names written in the front cover. Though he has a burning desire to change his life of pain and his divorce and come to God, deeply rooted problems reaching back to the Vietnam War and his father growing up has led him to an alcohol addiction that has lasted over 40 years, the last 10 being the worst. no matter whom we bring, the experiences we share, the commitments we leave, he cannot let go of alcohol. In fact our visits seem to have increased the amount of alcohol he drinks. Addictions may begin as thin threads, but left untamed they will grow even past the point of chain and morph into a self-deteriorating monster. It's heart breaking to have an addiction recovery program all set up, a whole family to help him, and even God ready to help, yet he chooses to not reach out. As one side of the scale grows with potential good for him, the other side is met pound for pound. There's not much that can be done for someone who doesn't want to accept help from another person. They choose to climb up an impossible-to-scale pit with their slippery hands while a rope of salvation hangs just a grip away.

In the process of attempting to help Warren and so many others escape addictions on my mission, I have had a real eye-opener for why God has given us His Commandments. They are fool-proof directions that keep a steady course upstream in the midst of crosswinds. I love how God cares enough for me to not learn it all from sad experiences, but is willing to lead me past dangers if I simply take his hand and follow. If you're addicted to something, no matter what the negative effects seem to be now, please seek help. We cannot do it alone. 

xoxo

Elder Burgess

June 20, 2016

Change is never easy. Whether it's recovering from stomach viruses cooped up in your missionary apartment, moving pianos from house to house, harvesting way too much hay for a single man to grow, or picking up two week's worth of Great Dane dog landmines, changing one scene to another is hardly ever easy. It would be nice if the outcome were always better than the beginning scene, but that's not always the case. Sometimes members drop a piano's weight entirely on you off a truck because they think the Lord's Anointing includes super-hero strength and you pull what feels like every muscle in your back. Occasionally walking away from what was supposed to be a good change for someone else leaves you in worse physical shape than you were before.

Yet in these circumstances of service in humid heat and torrential thunder storms, a spiritual growth develops with every drop of sweat and every impaled hay straw. There is an incredible relationship between losing oneself in the quest to help another and finding yourself down the road. "For whosoever will save his life shall lose it: and whosoever loseth his life for my sake shall find it." (Matt. 16:25)

I wish I could look back in perfect remembrance on the accumulated service I have given to people along this journey so far and see a well-placed description on how it has improved my life with the Savior. However, I think that would take away from the point. Losing our own lives in the journey onward to heaven is paved with stone after stone of challenges and potential charitable moments. Our decision in our finite view of things is to place our feet where they need to be to lift another up off the road to Jericho. There are constantly people and situations around us with unlimited opportunities to spark smiles on strangers' and friends' faces alike. This is the life-long process of a charitable life, and the ultimate way to walk as the Savior Himself walked. It truly is an honor to be on a mission where every day is presented for a full deliverance of myself in the quest to find Him whom I live to follow.

xoxo

Elder Burgess

June 13, 2016

June 13, 2016:

"Babbling" isn't a word often used in present-day English. I don't think I had ever experienced what it means to hear babbling until I teamed up with my new companion Elder Gorman. He's a short, energetic, and organized Elder from Johannesburg, South Africa, Caucasian, and has been on the mission for about 18 months now. Most of his mission has been spent in the heavily urban areas, including six months in inner-city Baltimore. So imagine a born and raised 100% South African accent in an energetic body, throw it in a blender with hyper speed Baltimore slang, serve fresh and add the final topping of extreme sleep talking. Yep. Sleep talking.

I'd be willing to say that true babbling is understood at 2:00 a.m. with a loud awakening of Africans (his native language) mixed with English spurts of things he's actually stressed about. It has been good to share with him in the morning what I found out that night about him, though. A lot of stressful problems have been solved because of his honest unconscious babbling, so I guess it's another tool for success! 

Honest communication between two companions is essential for substantial ministering. On three separate occasions this week we had deep discussions as to where we should go and to whom we should see at a specific time. At first we had different ideas, but as we counseled together we were able to find the right place to be. Surprisingly, all three of the times the consensus was an idea that was totally different from where either of us had originally wanted to go. The real miracle of counseling is felt when the plan is set into motion and your eyes are opened to why you were led to the decision. All three times we met a woman who needed spiritual comfort at the exact moment we arrived. One lady was lamenting and in anguish from her husband leaving her the day before for another woman. Another was mourning over her mother's death the exact day we arrived. The last was bottling up her tears taking care of her mother with Alzheimer's that remembered all of her children except for the only daughter who was willing to take care of her. We were humbled to be able to help each of the women by teaching the Gospel of Jesus Christ to "comfort those in need of comfort and mourn with those that mourn". It is miraculous to be a part of moments where the Holy Spirit floods in healing solace to people we meet. Coincidences are a foolish idea of the past due to the reality of acting on impressions from God. I can honestly proclaim with Moroni that miracles have not ceased among the children of men. All we have to do is keep our eyes open and our feet moving.

xoxo

Elder Burgess