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