Homecoming Talk

My father and I often discuss homecoming talks by missionaries. Its a great debate of how much
doctrine do you put in versus how many stories and whether you should quote lots of scripture and
other similar variables. Do people want to hear about all of your spiritual growth or about all of the
things you learned or do they want to hear stories and adventures? To be honest, Ive been thinking
about this talk for the last five or six years. Wondering how its going to turn out and what Im going to
say and how much doctrine versus stories Im going to include. Ive since decided to go with a
combination of things. Its a good thing I wasnt given a topic because I probably would have ignored it
anyways. Im going to tell stories of my adventures and experiences to hopefully illustrate some of the
lessons that Ive learned over the last two years. That way now weve got the best of both worlds in this.
Plus, I like telling stories, so this works out for me.
Luckily, I had a pretty exciting adventure to start off the whole New York thing right away. So I started
out in the MTC. Boring stuff there, nothing really exciting. I sat in a room for like nine weeks and studied
Spanish and Preach My Gospel. I picked up Spanish pretty quickly, which was definitely a blessing.
Because I would soon learn that I wasnt going to be doing too much with Spanish for a while.
I arrived in New York on October 22, 2012. I came in with about 13 other missionaries. They told us we
were one of the biggest groups they had ever had. Thats a joke now. When I left there were 28 new
missionaries coming in. Anyways, I got assigned to my first area, Far Rockaway, Queens. That was a
weird name for me. What happened to Close Rockaway? Why do we have to be Far Rockaway? My
trainer was a really cool guy named Elder Wolfe. I was confused when I first met him because he had an
English nametag on. It turns out that the branch in Far Rockaway was a combined branch with half
English and half Spanish. And we were assigned an area that worked with pretty much all English
speaking people. Good thing I spent nine weeks learning Spanish. That was fine with me though, I was
just excited to be out and meeting new people.
Far Rockaway is a very interesting area. Its this small peninsula that runs along the southside of Queens
and Brooklyn. We covered the entire peninsula. The closer you are mainland, the poorer the people are.
The further down the peninsula you go, the richer all of the houses get. Until the tip of the island which
is pretty much all super expensive summer homes. Elder Wolfe showed me around. We met lots of
interesting people in that first week.
Perhaps the most interesting encounter we had was with a less active named Gina. We met with her on
that first Friday. She asked us if we knew anything about the big storm coming out way. We most
certainly did not know about any storms. She seemed surprised and showed us a news clip about the
storm. I dont remember exactly what the video said, but to paraphrase, the weatherman essentially
said that the storm of death was coming towards us and was going to destroy the entire East coast,
especially New York City. Needless to say, I was a little disconcerted by this news. My trainer was
unfazed by this development. I guess a year before, another hurricane had hit the east coast, Hurricane
Irene. It was supposed to be really bad, but skipped right over New York. My trainer had been there for
that and assumed it would be much the same this time around.
We didnt hear too much more about it until Sunday morning when we got a text from the zone leaders
that we were being evacuated to Brooklyn for the storm. They announced it at church too and opened
up a nearby chapel for all of the members that wanted to evacuate. My trainer was still convinced that
we would be fine, but we evacuated to an area called East New York, Brooklyn. We stayed with two
other missionaries there.
Not too much happened where we were. The storm started hitting on Monday afternoon. It was just
rainy and windy where we were. We even walked to Little Caesars to buy a pizza in the middle of the
storm. I had my first New York learning experience there. I was going to buy a combo for me and my
companion to share. It came with a pizza and breadsticks and a soda. I asked for it and the woman asked
me what kind of pie I wanted. I looked at my trainer with confusion and asked we get a pie with it too?
He shrugged and said he didnt know. I looked back at the woman and asked if they had apple pie. She
looked at me like I was the dumbest person she had ever met. She repeated What kind of pie do you
want? I then realized the error of my ways. Apparently pie means pizza in New York. With shame in my
eyes, I asked for pepperoni. That was an invaluable lesson I learned that day.
So the storm went on, we stayed in. It wasnt until Wednesday afternoon that we were called to go out
and start cleaning up from the damage. We didnt think it could have been that bad. Hardly anything
happened where we were. A couple of trees fell down, that was about it. Our mission president had us
all go to an area just outside of Queens to help out in a certain neighborhood. It didnt seem too bad
here either. Mostly just a bunch of flooded basements. A bunch of missionaries showed up and we were
told to go house to house and ask if people needed help. We wandered for like an hour and a half and
nobody would accept our help. They all said they were waiting for insurance to come. Eventually,
somebody said that they were headed down to the Rockaways to do service there instead. My trainer
jumped on the ball and we went down there too.
This is where we saw the real destruction. Since its a peninsula, that means there is water on both
sides. And when the storm came and the winds got rough, the water rose really high and covered the
peninsula. It looked a lot like a war zone when we drove through it. Cars were tossed everywhere, trees
were downed, random furniture and other things were strewn about all over the place. There was no
order, just chaos. We went down the peninsula to find where most of the residential houses were. This
was an area called Belle Harbor. It is almost purely residential. And it got rocked. There was sand
everywhere. They didnt call it hurricane Sandy for nothing. You couldnt see the road, it was all covered
in sand. Cars were thrown onto people yards or into houses. Pieces of the boardwalk had broken off and
been thrown into peoples houses or into the road. The houses closest to the shore were almost
completely destroyed. They had huge chunks of them ripped out. It was really sad to see such
destruction.
There was not a lot going on when we got there. Lots of people had evacuated. The ones that hadnt
were dazed. Understandable. We went from house to house again asking for help. We talked with a lot
of people who really could have used help. But they didnt want our help. They didnt know who we
were and they didnt trust us. People kept telling us they were waiting for the fire department to come.
There was nobody there to help out. No police, no fire department, no red cross, no FEMA, no nothing.
Just a bunch of dazed people, a couple of volunteer firefighters, and some random young men who
showed up to try to help people. And yet nobody would accept our help. Only one lady did. We cleaned
up some sand from her yard for her. Her husband was so mad that she would accept our help. He felt
like he could do everything himself and he didnt need our help. We did what he would allow us and
then had to turn in.
We came back the next day and it was still a struggle. People didnt have any other options, but they
didnt trust these random people asking to help. There was a huge problem with looting in the
peninsula. Especially with a lack of police presence, people were pretty paranoid.
By day three, finally people were recognizing us and letting us help them. We did all sorts of tasks. We
shoveled sand, we pumped water out of basements, we pulled out wet furniture, we took out drywall,
we pulled up floors. You name it, we helped with it. The mission got pretty organized by this point and
started taking work orders from people in the area, then would send a group of missionaries over to
help them. It was a pretty good system. Then members started bussing in from all over to help. Initially
it was just people in New York, then people from surrounding states started coming in to help too. It
was really cool to see all these people joining together to help clean up New York.
The work lasted about two months. We did a lot of work out there. We didnt do any proselyting during
that time. There wasnt time and there wasnt anybody to really proselyte to. So we just did service all
day. It was great. By December, most of the basements were cleaned out. Then began the long, long
process of rebuilding. Its still going on out there. Most people are back and running, but there are still a
number of people who are working on their houses and probably will be for a while.
That was quite the welcome to New York. It taught me a good lesson on the importance of service
though. You dont have to muck out somebodys basement to serve them. You can serve people in all
sorts of ways. The key though, is that when you do something for someone that you didnt have to do, it
really makes a difference to them. Even if its just a simple thing, any kind of service for someone is
always appreciated. Theres more to the Sandy story though, well get back to it soon.
We then went on with our lives. It was difficult to teach much because most people were still working
on their houses. Hard to consider a huge lifestyle and religion change when you just lost your house and
are trying to rebuild. We did start teaching some English classes though. That was mostly for the inland
area where all of the Hispanics were. We had a number of cool experiences from that, but theres one in
particular that still stands out to me.
We would teach English for an hour and then share a spiritual thought with everybody who came. One
day, we decided to teach about the Book of Mormon and give everybody a copy. That day was a miracle
because we had like 45 people come. I got the honors of explaining what the Book of Mormon is and
why its important. I gave my schpeal and invited everybody to read a chapter and pray about it. I
promised them that they would get an answer about the book if they did so. A few days later, we
showed up early to set up for class. One woman came early that day. I assumed she just happened to
get there early because she didnt say much to me when I talked with her. I moved on to set up the
class. Another missionary talked with her a bit more and she said that she came early to meet with el
grandote or the really big guy. Fair enough, so my companion and I sat down with her. I asked her what
was up and she pulled out her Book of Mormon. She told me she had prayed about it and knew it was
true. I was stunned. Things like that dont happen. This woman knew nothing about the church. She had
never heard of Joseph Smith, she didnt know anything about the Restoration, heck, she hardly knew
where the Book of Mormon came from. But she told me that she felt something when I talked about it.
So she decided to read the chapter and pray. She said that she said a prayer and waited a few minutes.
Then she had a feeling come to her and she knew that the book was true. Now she wanted to learn
more about it and join the church.
That was a flat-out miracle. We met with her a bunch and taught her all of the lessons. She couldnt
make it to church because of work and eventually moved away and we lost her, but she still got an
answer. She told us that she really wants this church in her life and once she got out of work on Sundays
she would go to church every week. Im sure that wherever she is now, shes doing just fine for herself.
Its such a cool testament that we can receive an answer from the Spirit at any time. Even though her
knowledge was limited, she asked in faith and she received her answer. Amazing.
So Far Rockaway had lots of good times and stories, but we have to move on for the sake of the epic
metaphor Im planning to make later. After seven and a half months there, I was moved to a new area. I
went to a place called Midwood, Brooklyn. I was with a new companion named Elder Rodgers. This was
the beginning of a time I like to call the struggle. I had no idea at the time, but Midwood was going to
rock my world, just like Hurricane Sandy.
Midwood is an interesting area too because it is chalk-full of Hassidic Jews and Muslims. Thats about it.
If you go a bit to the north of it, you run into lots of African Americans. But not very many Hispanics.
Finding people to teach was a very difficult game in Midwood. This wasnt the main source of my
struggles here, but it did contribute.
My companion wasnt the biggest fan of me. He was struggling with a lot of things at the time and he
wasnt sure how to cope with everything. So he often shut down and refused to talk with me. Lack of
communication is not a good thing when two people are trying to live and work together. Thats another
important lesson I learned. Communication is key in relationships with others. We became friends at
one point and then he shut down again. It was a bit of a rollercoaster. Its not his fault. He was just trying
to make his way in the world. He was really depressed and it made things difficult.
We met pretty regularly with this guy named Efrain. Efrain was the brother of a member in the ward. He
was pretty evangelical, but came to our church for some reason. He felt like he didnt need to be
baptized, but he still came pretty much every week. He really liked to talk, so it was difficult to explain
anything to him. He would always jump in and take over. We had some really cool lessons with him
though. All he really needed was to get an answer about the Book of Mormon. Then everything would
have fallen into place. We tried so hard to get him to pray about it. We finally got him. We knelt with
him and made him pray right there in the chapel where we met. He prayed, then we sat in silence for
two minutes. At the end, we asked him what he felt. He said he felt something different. He said he felt
like the book was true. Oh goodness, I was so excited. All that work and finally, he got an answer. It was
a miracle. I told him to remember this feeling so that he could always know what it felt like. I asked him
to read in the Book of Mormon more and continue praying about it. We finished the lesson and met
again a few days later. I asked him if he had been reading and praying. He said no. He had forgotten all
about the prayer we said together and what it felt like. He lost it all, just like that. It was sad. If he had
continued reading and praying, he probably would have kept it. But he wasnt willing to act and so he
lost his knowledge. When we get a prompting or feeling from the spirit, we have to act on it. We cant
just store it and hope it stays forever. We have to keep working for it, to remember it and to add to it.
We need faith and works to really get the most out of the spirit.
Efrain was a sad tale. I dont know what happened to him. He disappeared one day and we havent been
in touch with him since. Moving on with the Midwood tale. I was put in as district leader, in charge of
five other missionaries and working with the ward leaders there. I was put in right as everything went
wrong. Our bishop decided to move and stop coming to church. The first counselor then decided he
wanted to not have any responsibility anymore. Our ward mission leader started berating us all the time
for not baptizing enough people. They wouldnt let us do any activities with the ward to find people. It
was really rough. We had to wait three months to get a new bishop in there. Three long months of
frustration. The zone leaders were on top of me all the time too because they didnt think we were
doing enough. We really were trying everything we could. I had young and struggling missionaries with
little to no support from the ward. There was only so much I could do.
All of this, on top of living with a depressed person for four and a half months straight, eventually got to
me. I fell pretty hard. I had never really understood depression before that. And at the time, I dont think
I understood exactly what was happening either. That wouldnt hit me until a few months later when it
got really bad. I did learn that the things we say to people have a huge effect. And if you tell somebody
something for a long enough time, eventually theyre going to start believing it. After you hear how
worthless and garbage you are for a few months, you start to believe it.
A lot of the details from this point in my life are blurry. Every day was a struggle. I was afraid to ask for
help because I didnt want to seem weak. That pride is so silly. Its not worth it. Even when Elder
Rodgers was moved and I had a new companion that wasnt depressed, things didnt get any better. My
new companion was so happy all of the time that it made me feel worse about myself. He didnt
understand what I was going through and I still refused to ask for much help. I blamed myself for causing
my own problems and felt like I didnt deserve help.
I was in Midwood for seven and a half months as well. I was finally moved on December 10, 2013. It was
supposed to be a happy day. I couldnt have been sadder. That was a new low for me. I felt disconnected
from everything. I wanted to cry all of the time. I felt worthless and sad and lonely. I thought a new area
would help me figure things out. It didnt. It just got worse.
I finally told my parents about it when I called home for Christmas. They were very supportive of me. I
was still hurting though. I hated myself, I hated my life, I felt like I wasnt worth loving. There were a
number of nights where I wished I could have gone to sleep and never woken up. I was so tired of the
constant pain and hatred. All of the things that normally brought me happiness no longer brought me
any joy. There was just a void in my heart and my mind. It was a miracle that I even got out of bed every
morning to go try to teach people with my companion. He had only been out for six months and he was
having to run most of our day. I was so incapable of functioning. I felt this extreme apathy for
everything. Nothing mattered to me anymore.
I still refused to accept help from people. It was so silly. I felt like I had brought this on myself and I
couldnt ask for help from anybody. I wouldnt talk to my companion about it, I tried to hide it from my
parents, I didnt tell my mission president much.
Eventually, it got to a point where I recognized that if I didnt ask for help, something bad was going to
happen. I talked with the mission nurse and got signed up to visit with the mission therapist. I told some
friends about it in my mission and they helped me out too, my mom would send me motivational
messages and give me ideas of things to do to combat it. All of these things helped. I was still up and
down.
The Lord blessed me with a miracle by sending me the best companion ever. Elder Mendez was his
name. He helped me so much. He helped me understand that this wasnt my fault; that this could
happen to anybody. He was a great listener and would just sit and listen to all of my anxieties and fears
and concerns and freak outs. He was my friend and he loved me. About the same time, I became good
friends with one of the sister missionaries, Sister Keele. She was struggling with some health issues at
the time and we were able to help each other get through our struggles together. Its nice to have a
friend to struggle with. We would often remind each other that we will both be healed someday. Its a
good thing to remember.
I have my good days and I have my bad days. Im not quite there yet, but Im definitely on the mend. For
a while, I was disappointed that so much of my mission was clouded by this depression that I
experienced. But, I learned some of my most valuable lessons from this time in my life. It was very
difficult, but Im glad I went through it. It helped me make some very dear friends. It helped me become
more understanding and kind with people. It helped me gain a greater appreciation for prayer and for
the small answers we receive from the spirit. It helped me understand that Heavenly Father really does
care for us. And sometimes he lets us struggle so that we can become something greater than we were
before. We may not understand how, but I feel he always has a plan for us and its always a better plan
than the one we may have in mind.
Okay, now its time for the epic metaphor. There are a number of storms in our lives. Sometimes they
pass by us with just some rain and wind. Sometimes they touch down and wipe out entire residential
areas. We cant control these storms and we never know when theyre going to hit. They are going to
happen regardless of what we do. But what we can control is what we do after the storm hits.
When our basement is flooded and all of our furniture is wet and our walls and floor are warping and
falling apart, we have a choice. We can be stubborn and insist on doing everything ourselves. Struggling
without the proper equipment or knowledge to fix these things. Or, we can look to others for help. We
can accept the help that knocks on our door. Maybe its not a formally recognized organization like the
fire department or the red cross. But any help is good help if we accept it. Theres no shame in accepting
help when we are incapable of helping ourselves. Others can help us clean out our metaphorical
basements. They can help us rid our lives and minds of the negative things that hold us back.
And once our basements are cleaned out, well have an empty shell of a house. We still need to be
willing to accept help from others and often reach out to others in rebuilding our hearts and minds. It
may be a quick rebuild, it may be a long rebuild. But it will be rebuilt. Like Sister Keele often reminded
me, we will be healed someday. And it applies to anyone struggling with any issue. I met lots of people
in the Rockaways who told me they would never be able to rebuild. And yet, here they are with a rebuilt
house. We can choose to further things along or we can choose to sit back and wish we had a living
room. We have to be proactive and work with others to build our houses and hearts. We need to
continue serving other people. We need to keep loving others and accepting love from others. We need
to always strive to remember the Atonement and the power of faith in Jesus Christ. None of these
repairs are possible without His help. The Atonement is what makes healing possible. We have to always
remember that when were working to fix ourselves up. And when were all fixed up, I think well find
that were happy with the changes that occurred in the rebuilding process. Heavenly Father always has a
plan and he wont fail us.
This is an important lesson that Ive learned. Heavenly Father really does love us. We are His children
and he cares about us so much. I had an experience with this in the MTC, but I didnt fully understand
this lesson until near the end of my mission. It was the week before we shipped out for New York. I was
freaking out, nothing new. I had a lot of doubts. I doubted that I would be able to do a good job. I
worried that God wouldnt help me out. I worried I wasnt good enough. I was saying a prayer for help
one night. It was like 11 and I prayed very hard and asked for just some kind of sign that God loved me. I
wanted anything, a feeling, a thought, an idea. I just wanted something. Right as I finished the prayer, I
heard a knock on my door. Bedtime is 10:30, so I was confused as to who was knocking on my door. It
was one of the missionaries in my district. He told me that he was kind of confused, but he had a feeling
that he needed to come tell me that God loves me and that hes got my back. Then he gave me a hug
and said goodnight.
That was amazing to me. He didnt know anything about what I was thinking. He only could have known
from the spirit prompting him. That experience gave me the confidence to get out to New York. But I
dont think the significance of it really hit me until I felt like I had no hope at all. And when I laid on the
ground in my apartment, crying myself to sleep, wishing I could stop existing, I felt that love again. I
dont always feel it. But when I really need it, its always there for me. I know that God loves us all
personally. We really are his children and he wants the best for us. We cant be happy all of the time.
But when we really need it most, God is always there for us. We just have to ask. We just have to ask for
His help and be willing to accept it.
So after five years of planning this talk, thats the lesson that I hope you take away from this. I want you
all to remember that God is our Heavenly Father. And that anything is possible through Him. I dont
know what any of you are struggling with. But I do know that God knows. And that hes concerned for
you and he always will be. I also know that we will all be healed someday. I had a very kind friend to
remind me of that often, so I hope you will all remember to remind yourself of that too.