Remember that place in Texas

I wish I had more time to write, but due to a hefty nudge from some

missionaries in the district we went to the Alamo with the senior

couples in our district. I wasn't too interested until I found out

that my old companion was coming along, and that the long

restricted-for-missionaries area of the river walk in San Antonio has

officially been open by the new mission president. Knowing I don't

have much time left in Texas, Elder P and I pulled the trigger on

the trip. It was fun, especially to cajole with my old friend, but it

left little time for much else.

This week I was doing some thinking while looking out at a Texan

sunset. The evenings here are always so picturesque. It's almost like

you were painting a Western movie every night. I was sitting in the

car on the way back to the apartment and thought, "there's nowhere

else I'd rather be, and somehow I'm supposed to change my mind about

that in a few weeks." Being a missionary has to be best two years of

my life. There has been nothing like it. There are moments that are

seared into me that will stay for the rest of my life. I have been a

full time missionary for the church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day

Saints for 23.5 months now, and you'd think that I'd have everything

figured out, or it would become dull, but every day I learn something

new, and every day I am amazed. Amazed at many things.

One of our wards has a slew of pest control salesman attending for the

summer. They invited us over for dinner last night. Every person who

works for the company is a return missionary. We were sitting in a

couch in an apartment in South Austin with 10 other young adults

having spiritual conversation. I thought, "there's no way this could

be happening without a mission. 12 20-25 year olds having a powerful

conversation about temples and discipleship comes only with a love of

the mission." It was true. These men and women- all of which are

return missionaries of 18 months or less- gave some council for when I

return home. I trust them. They are all good people.

I've been pondering much about countenance. The wife of our first

mission president always talked about countenances. I think I'm

beginning to understand what she was talking about,

Elder Richard Hall

1. The Riverwalk

Hard to Find the Right Words

I'm going to preface this with letting you know that there will most

likely be no email next week, as departing missionaries' last P-day is

cut short, and I am going to be spending much of it

packing-cleaning-cajoling with some mission buddies who are

serendipitously nearby. If there is an email, it will mainly consist

of photos of the baptism and some brief comments. This is, well, it.

Happy Fathers' Day. It's easy for me to say now, and still funny to

say it, but I love my Dad. As I ought to. He's taught me a lot, and

more good than bad. Currently two of my brothers are Dads, and by

looking at their children they seem to be doing good for themselves.

Here's to my family, which is a little too perfect to be real.

Luckily, they are a little too real to be perfect.

One of my BYU roommates (Cole, for Callie's sake, since she knew him),

once turned to me while we were studying, and said "I now realize what

my mission president meant when he told me that I'd want to be a

father after the mission." My mission president has not said that, but

if he did I'd believe him. I'll believe anything my mission president

says.

My brother once wrote to me saying that if you are obedient and pay

attention that your mission president can be a "second father" figure.

What a tender thought to allow someone to be a piece of your family.

As much as we joke around with others and call each other at church,

it is a sacred honor to be called "brother", "father", "mom",

"sister." I have found wisdom, love, and joy from my mission

presidents. I do not mind calling them a "second father".

Saturday will include the last baptismal service of my mission. It

will be for Trevor, a 16-year old that we found only 6 weeks ago.

Since we knocked on his door, which we knew nothing about other than

the name of his less-active mother, both he and his mother have come

to church every week, and he wants to baptize his 13-year old brother

in the coming weeks. It is a great start to a new life for Trevor, and

a lovely finale to a two year trek for me.

Friday we had a special zone conference with Elder Cornish of the 70

present. It was magnificent. The message he carried was blissful and

sweet. I was also able to see old mission friends including my trainee

from long ago. It touched my heart to see how many people reached out

to me, as this would be the last time I'd see them for a while.

As excited as I am about all the events and plans and hopes that come

with returning home (if I can call it home), it's a disheartening

thought. For one thing, what is home? The place that I've lived the

longest in the past 3 and a half years is Round Rock, Texas. I have

been offered by three different families in this area, one that I've

spent less than 3 months in, to live with them if I ever wanted to

return to Buda. For the past 4 years my main goal has been to prepare

to serve a mission. Now that it is over, the daunting thought of

"what's next?" Has appeared. I have a three month, 1-year, and 5-year

plan, but we can never be certain.

Of all the conference talks I've read and heard on my mission, my

favorite has been "Knowing That We Know", by Douglas L. Callister.

When I think of my own testimony, it has melded into his words. They

may be his, but they are mine as well.

"The moment of testimony realization--when you know that you know--is

sweet and sublime. That testimony, if nurtured, will rest upon you as

a mantle. When we see light, we are engulfed by it. Lights of

understanding turn on within...

If you want to know that you know that you know, a price must be paid.

And you alone must pay that price. There are proxies for ordinances,

but none for the acquisition of a testimony...

We should be on our knees every morning and night pleading with the

Lord that we never lose our faith, our testimony, or our virtue. There

only has to be one witness, but it must be yourself.

I have a testimony. It urges to be expressed. I bear witness that the

power of the living God is in this Church. I know what I know, and my

witness is true. In the name of Jesus Christ, amen"

Elder Richard Hall

1. A photo of me and other missionaries on our first day in Texas

2. Elder Herriot and I on exchanges

3. My trainee and I looking like punks

4. Remnants of one of the best districts ever

5. Somewhere in Heaven

My understanding slipped for a while

We were having the lesson on our investigator's porch. She has a date

to be baptized but needs to live a few commandments before she can,

halfway through inviting her to live one of them, a thought hit my

mind. "I'm asking this person to change their life. Here I am, talking

to her for the fifth time in my life, asking her to drop something

she's done for 40 years so she can be a part of the church. Her life

will never be the same. Why would she ever want this?"

Finally interrupting the pause, the member finished the invitation for

me. To which she said yes. I was a mildly surprised. I asked her why

she wants to. "Well, isn't this what God wants for me?"

Of course, but I wasn't expecting you to be so on board with this.

Something within me, after all of these months of being a missionary,

forgets that I help people literally redirect their lives towards

Christ. And I can't believe that they listen to me. And I think, "Have

I really been doing this for the past two years?" My attitude isn't as

much serene wonder and awe as it is scratching my head and wondering

how the heck I got here.

A man once stopped Elder M and I on the street. He told us he

joined the church a year ago and is getting sealed in the temple soon.

At his work he was having a training on how to help change people's

lives, because he knew it was possible, thanks to missionaries.

I remember the day that I realized why it's important to know the Book

of Mormon is the word of God. There's been a sort of ingrained belief

in the church for much of my life, but when I was around 12 or 13 I

really started understanding and believing in the church. It took me

up to age 16 that it hit me, "If the Book of Mormon is true, then this

really is the church of Jesus Christ. There really is no greater joy

than living the gospel."

From that point I not only lived the gospel, I was wanting others to

live the gospel. I invited less active friends to church and mutual. I

tried to attend the temple every week. I fulfilled my calling the best

I could. I went out with missionaries and began seriously preparing

for my own. The sacrament became so much more special. Why would I

want this? Because it's what God wants for me. He wants me to heel

happy. He wants me to serve others. It is all part of God's plan.

Knowledge is power only because knowledge leads to an increase of

faith. Faith is the principle of action and power.

I'm not a genius, or a philosophical wizard, or anything more than

someone with some knowledge and some faith, which is why I still don't

know exactly how I'm doing this, but this is all real. It's all

wonderfully real.

We should be on our knees every morning and night pleading with the

Lord that we never lose our faith, our testimony, or our virtue. If we

have not received it yet, we need to plead to find it. There only has

to be one witness, but it must be yourself.

Elder Richard Hall

Coming Soon to a Potato Field Near You

Sometimes I wonder if people really care about what happened to me

this week, or if they care more just to hear from me. Describing what

you did as a missionary is a constant rehashing of what I did for work

this week. If missionary work was a desk job, emails would be mundane

and predictable. I like to stray away from travel log- whether to keep

things sacred or save you from recycling stories-,but if I do that

often events slowly get forgotten.

I know that those who take time to read this both care for me and want

to hear from me, and for that I am grateful. Even if you scroll down

to look at the pictures first.

I loved this week. Sometimes, when you get to a point of balance on

your mission, it becomes an art form. At least, for me it is. Deep

down inside I picture myself as this passionate painter with the messy

smock and beret curling his mustache while falling in love with this

masterpiece I made in the long hours of the night. It's the meeting

point of the me right above it, this goofball who loves bad jokes, and

the one below it, a philosopher thinking on a rock in the desert

night.

At any rate, this week was a masterpiece. Everything went the way it

should. Friday and Saturday we had back to back Preach my Gospel

perfect lessons with two of our progressing investigators. Both of

them want to be baptized and even agreed to a date. Heading out of

both of the lessons I thought to myself, "That went too well. There's

something wrong." Then again, I've said that with just about every

person that I have seen enter into the waters of baptism. There's a

small amount who didn't make it. My heart feels for them, but good

things happen. They happen all the time.

Thursday we had an important lesson with an investigator. He's been

looking into the church for almost a year now and after keeping all

the commitments he's made he hasn't made up his mind. Last week we

asked him to write down all of his questions, to which he said, "If I

knew the Book of Mormon was true, I wouldn't have any." Dang right,

Jai. The bishop of the Ward bore one of the most powerful testimonies

I've heard. Memorable night.

This week I ponderized Moroni 7:48. That one verse standing alone

could sustain a discourse on resurrection and the nature of God.

Reading Moroni 7 altogether, it's the grand finale of a symphony, or

less artistic, it is the bacon at the end of the all-you-can-eat

breakfast bar, or more entertaining, it is the Steph Curry 40-foot 3

to close off a blowout. All of these metaphors are needed to describe

how great this scripture is.

I have been quite happy lately. Just, happy.

Elder Richard Hall

Sorry people who scroll down to the pictures first.

Pass the Oreos Over Here

Joseph Smith liked to call himself a "rough stone, rolling". He was always a tremendous example of humility and obedience. If he was a rough stone rolling, then I am a boulder crashing through the forest. I remember what my first mission president said he'd like to have on his tombstone. "James E. Slaughter, friend of Joseph Smith." Why would anyone who is living 150 years after Joseph Smith died want to be known as his friend? Perhaps it is because when you learn about someone as amazing as him, you'd want to spend as much time with him and learning of him as possible. That's what's true for me. President Slaughter also wanted "Praise to the Man" to be played at his funeral- not for him, but for Joseph. That's a heck of a thought. 

This week was excellent. It was one of those weeks that you dream of as a missionary. Faith-based and Spirit-led. A whole lot of work, and a whole lot of fun. We had beautiful lessons with our investigators, and had perfect execution working with members of the Ward. We had a good amount of people attend sacrament meeting, and all of them came out loving it, probably more than I did. I always wonder what is going on in the hearts of our investigators. What are they thinking? How are they feeling? What can I do for them? How can I make this the best hour of their life? This is some of the most important moments of their lives, and I am a key part of this. I am the conductor of this religious experience for them, and the notes have to be hit, the rhythm can't be too fast, the intonation just right. This week everything had a pretty ring to it. 

With my time running short, I've been trying to throw all my wisdom onto my humble companion, Elder P

. There's a conflict within me though as I begin relaying information. "Let him find out on his own. It'll be better for him"/"You need to give him this knowledge now"/"What is he ready for?" different thoughts float around in my mind. If I do not give away this knowledge I have, it may be wasted. If I give it away improperly, it'll be lost anyways. How can I make this special to him? What is most important? The amount of advice I give narrows, but becomes more powerful.

I'm glad that I am surrounded by excellent examples, both of friends and family. When people ask about my family, I usually end up telling them more than they wanted. Hopefully it doesn't sound arrogant or flaunting, but I like to talk about them. They've known me for 20 years, and they don't just tolerate me, they're actually willing to help me! They're good people. 

I've been trying very hard to do things the right way. I've been trying to fulfill the Lord's vision the best way I can for the past 23 months, but even more so these past few weeks. About a year ago I began striving to be transparent. Even longer ago I tried to find the balance. I learned transparency, but I'm still working on balance.

This was a very nebulous email. Hopefully it was also a good one.

Elder Richard Hall

1. The wedding we went to last week. The Bride's side was Filipino, if you couldn't tell

2. Black's Barbecue after district meeting. Solid

3. Tom Glavine-signed Jersey a member wanted me to buy from him. Tempting.

Rounded Edges

This is the start of my last transfer in the mission field. In just a

while I won't be in Texas anymore. That's an awful thought. Mainly

because I won't be a missionary anymore, but also there's a chance

that Idaho will have a snowstorm in the middle of July. It hasn't been

under 70 degrees here since January!

The remainder of my mission will be spent with my camouflaged-hearted

companion in the pleasant towns of Buda and Kyle. He almost wept when

he found out he because this means he's still within walking distance

of a Cabelas. I've never met someone so static. Everything relates

back to guns and hunting. Everything.

Missionary work has been great around here. I've been looking back at

my mission and thinking about the character of a missionary. The Lord

is all about the one. If he has his 99, he will do what it takes to

bring back the one. It's nice to have help out with a lot of baptisms,

and it's nice to find people to teach, but we are to make such a

personal relationship with Christ that He will do whatever it takes to

help anyone overcome the opposition that he has. He waits until we are

ready to listen, but once that happens there's no turning back.

Whether you like it or not, he'll be a part of your life. As

missionaries, we do our best to use our time wisely so we can help

whoever is the most ready.

Friday we were able to attend the wedding of one of our investigators.

Elder P and I were two of the ten people there, not including the

happy couple. It was on a beautiful piece of property and it was great

to see the two of them giddy. It's the second wedding I've been to on

my mission. Weddings are happy times. There is a sacred experience

that all attendants get to be a part of. That is why worthy members

are married in the temple, where you can feel the greatest amount of

peace and concentrate all of excitement and energy into a simply

covenant.

Recently I have been doing much study on the prophet Joseph Smith. It

is astounding. Say what you want about Joseph Smith, but if you were

to pour through the life and history of Joseph Smith, looking at all

the doctrines and discoveries, miracles and trials, etc. I would say

that his character alone is enough evidence that he is a prophet. And

don't even get me started on the Book of Mormon.

I got to talk with my family yesterday. My family is a naturally

unserious and unaffectionate bunch. Well no, they are affectionate,

they just have a strange way of showing it. Definitely not serious

though. I love them for that, because I'm strange as well. Terribly

serious at times, though. Families are special. I love them.

- Elder Richard Hall

Old Friends/Bookends

You know that it is a good week when you go on exchanges with your MTC

companion. For the first time since July 6th, 2015, I was companions

with Elder Bl. WOW. 22 months can do things to you. For one

thing, in the MTC he was 10 pounds heavier than I was. Now I am 25

pounds heavier. Did he lose weight or did I gain weight? The answer is

yes.

Reuniting with Elder Bl was interesting. You wouldn't expect

the similarities we have. He is the only missionary I know other than

myself who still ponderizes, who memorized his call letter, and still

knows the track list to Vampire Weekend's first album. What can I say,

we were meant for each other.

Some things have changed. For one, we are much better missionaries

than we used to be. We're more obedient. We're smarter. We're more

experienced. We're happier. We're more focused. We follow the

unwritten order. We are better people. That's what the mission does to

you.

I could write about Elder Blackhurst and I's reunion for a while, but

there's other things I will mention. For one, there is an investigator

we have that was going to be baptized on this Saturday, but is

starting to face some serious opposition from his family. The whole

week the situation has been up in the air. It's hard to see someone so

close to the truth and what he wants to happen be facing adversity.

But as missionaries, we only see part of the puzzle. It is when we

fail to see the big picture that we begin to make mistakes. We must be

patient, but persistent.

Patience has changed me. I am a much different missionary than I used

to be. I used to think that patient meant you were slow to react, or

indecisive, or time-inefficient. But patience isn't about the timing,

it's about the faith in the action. It is all about a decision we made

long before, and having the faith for it to come to pass. It is highly

time effective, and quick to react. Patience is more about the mind

than it is about the matter.

Last week two of my investigators from paste areas were baptized. One

of them I worked with week in and week out for the first 5 or so

months of her investigation. She could just never find her answer. It

took 10 months from start tot finish for her to be baptized. The other

one was set with a baptismal date the day we first met her, and was

baptized not far from that date. Was the truth different for either

individual? No. time does not determine whether or not the truth is

truth. The same way that love is not determined by time, or how much

you know about someone. Love starts when you begin to see the same way

Heavenly Father sees us.

Elder Christensen of the seventy says that your missionary life is a

microcosm of actual life. You start out fresh and willing to do

anything and not knowing what's going on, and then you go into

adolescence, where you think you know everything. After that you slip

into adulthood, and all of its stages, including mid-life crises.

Then, towards the end of your mission, you become wise and a little

slower, watching the whipper-snappers cut across your lawn. For a long

time I thought I was in adulthood of missionary work, but I see now

that my stride is getting shorter, and it's hard to teach this old dog

some of the newer tricks of the mission. I am getting old, but I don't

want to believe it.

- Elder Richard Hall

1. Elder Bl and I looking like punks at the temple- July 5th,2015

2. Elder Bl and I looking less like punks at Buc-ee's May 3. 2017