Pesky Paparazzi and Flashback Horror

 District Meeting carried on in it's usually manner and we all awaited a guest. The night before we were informed the local newspaper would be following around our Zone Leaders to inform the public of how life is as a Mormon Missionary was. And precisely as we began in on something that could have easily been manipulated into us worshipping Joseph Smith and only reading the Book of Mormon, the press arrived and after a brief introduction and meeting us all, they told us to pretend like they weren't there. So, the district talked normally as Elder Thomas comically attempted to point out the fact that a reporter was in the room and her lackey was photographing our every word. But after a few harsh, "what are you doing?!" stares from the missionaries in my district, I stopped. We ended with the only song in the Hymn book that could produce many questions about us worshiping Joseph Smith, 'Praise to the Man.' The whole thing was weird.  

      Mexican parties are nuts. No matter the age, gender, or occasion. We texted our Dinner the night before we were to eat with them and they responded that it was going to be a party at the church. Excited, the next day we rushed over to the church and found the get together. The Cultural Hall lived up to its name that day. There was a questionable amount of culture and enough soda and 'cake pops' to make any creature under the Heavens ill beyond measure and enough tacos to make a skinny Elder Thomas into a Elder Thomas that needs a new size shirt. We were greeted by the family and I presumed it could've been another 15 year olds, but I was wrong. It was for a 5 year old. I'm pretty sure the extend of my party at 5 was Dad dressing up like a pirate and making my only two friends that were girls cry while the four others of us looked for treasure in the sandbox. This party had a DJ and balloons like crazy and one more surprise. A haunting voice reverberated off the basketball back boards and unsettled the bubbles in the Coca-Cola I drinking. Not soon after, the voice that emanated  from the speakers entered the room and it was my worst nightmare. 

     Now, I must backtrack to the year 2001. I am 6 years old and at a Halloween party at Silly Grandma's house. The cousins are running and releasing the newly produced sugar in the veins by jumping and running in every which way. The doorbell rang and I did what any other hyper kid would do. I ran to to the door along with every one else. Due to my natural athleticism I made it to the door first and threw it open. What met me was my Grandmother wearing a clown outfit and makeup. And thus birthed my fear of clowns. The lanky Clown that entered the Cultural Hall was 7 feet tall had makeup from my nightmares and was yelling in Spanish words that I couldn't understand due to either the vulgarity or speaking at such a simplified level to accommodate the children that I couldn't understand, I assume the former. It was the most terrifying clown I've ever seen in my life and Elder Williams nearly had to escort me to the car, but I was brave and stayed to enjoy more cake pops.

     This week has been great and the work is awesome. He continue moving forward regardless of the tragedies or obstacles placed in our path. In the words of the Prophet Joseph Smith, "No unhallowed hand can stop the work from progressing, persecution may rage, mobs may combine, armies may assemble and calumny may defame, but the truth of God will go forth boldly, nobly and independent." I am so glad to be involved in this Gospel and I hope I can help others accept it in their lives and find joy as I have.

Thanks for everything!

Adios

Elder Thomas