Today is El Salvador's Independence Day

¡Feliz día de independencia, mi querido país de El Salvador!

I still remember my first Independence Day in El Salvador. I had just arrived in the country and was in my first area in la colonia Santa Lucía, Ilopango. September 15 was a Sunday, and before church started, members of the Relief Society passed out blue and white flowers to all the women. To start off sacrament meeting, the bishopric had everyone stand and sing the national anthem. There was also a parade passing right in front of the chapel. (However, we were too busy having church inside to watch it.)

At the time, all of these events went over my head. I didn't understand much Spanish and was still a little bit in shock, trying to adjust living in a foreign country. I remember thinking, It's cool how patriotic they are here, but funny... I don't remember us singing the national anthem last Sunday. I wonder how often they do that?

It wasn't until the following year, when my second Independence Day rolled around, that I understood what the occasion was. My second Independence Day was a Monday, usually the missionaries' "preparation day" - a day dedicated to cleaning the house, writing our families, going grocery shopping, and running errands so that we could focus 100 percent the rest of the week on the Lord's work. I was excited because I thought my companion and I might be able to watch part of the parade, but then the mission president dictated that p-day would be moved to Tuesday that week, and required all missionaries to stay inside and do extra scripture study during the parade. I was a little disappointed, but we obeyed President. I know the decision was probably made for our own protection.

The light on the hill

Ye are the light of the world. A city that is set on an hill cannot be hid.

Neither do men light a candle, and put it under a bushel, but on a candlestick; and it giveth light unto all that are in the house.

Let your light so shine before men, that they may see your good works, and glorify your Father which is in heaven.

- Matthew 5:14-16, KJV

I was here today:

This beautiful building in Logan is a temple to God. It's different than a church meetinghouse (most church meetinghouses are called "templos" in El Salvador, leading to some confusion about what "temple" means to members of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints). Temples are often built on hills in token of Jesus' teachings, recorded in Matthew chapter 5.

The temple is a place where worthy people complete ordinances. An ordinance is a formal act a person takes to show his/her dedication to God. God has commanded us to complete several ordinances, including baptism, confirmation and marriage. Therefore, the temple is all about bringing us closer to God.

To preserve the sacredness of the temple, each person must have a special recommend to enter. Anyone can qualify to get a recommend. God explained the requirements in a revelation to the prophet Joseph Smith:

And again, by way of commandment to the church concerning the manner of baptism—All those who humble themselves before God, and desire to be baptized, and come forth with broken hearts and contrite spirits, and witness before the church that they have truly repented of all their sins, and are willing to take upon them the name of Jesus Christ, having a determination to serve him to the end, and truly manifest by their works that they have received of the Spirit of Christ unto the remission of their sins, shall be received by baptism into his church. (Doctrine and Covenants 20:37)

I was also here on Friday:

The Salt Lake City Temple is one of the most well-known LDS temples.

A connection to the past

As missionaries, we were always excited when local young adults came home from their own missions. These newly returned missionaries were used to walking long hours, striking up conversations with complete strangers and guiding gospel discussions. They also typically didn't have jobs yet and were more than willing to go out visiting with us.

This week, a flashback took me back to the day we went out with a newly returned sister missionary from Apopa. She was the younger sister of Majorit, one of the members of Barrio Refineria (Refineria Ward). She’d arrived home only a day or two before, and from personal experience I now understand how lost she probably still felt.

Hna Infanzon and I arrived at the chapel to meet her prior to beginning the day's work. I will always remember the wide smile that lit up her face when she saw us, and the longing in her eyes because of our missionary nametags - those precious plaquitas that represented countless spiritual struggles and triumphs, total dedication to God and love for those you served.

The longing must have won out, because when she gave me a hug of greeting, she didn't let me go right away. I started to release her after a normal amount of time, but her hold tightened and she started to get choked up, so I gave in and hugged her back.

After a minute or so, she released me and stepped back, wiping her eyes quickly with the back of her hand, and gave Hna Infanzon a regular hug of greeting. She was okay after that, and we had a great afternoon together.

In that moment, I felt my spirit connect with hers and I felt honored to provide a brief connection to her past.

Now that I'm home, my place is reversed, and the sisters that serve near my home now provide my connection to the past.

A perfect day

"Have you ever experienced a perfect moment in time?"

"A perfect moment?"

"When time seemed to stop."

(Pauses) "Seeing my home planet from space for the first time."

"Yes."

- from Star Trek: Insurrection

This weekend, I experienced a perfect moment. It was actually a series of moments that filled an entire day. Honestly, it could not have been better.

My best friend got married in the Oakland California Temple. And I was privileged to be there for every moment of it.

There was a beautiful feeling in the temple that day - even more than usual. As I listened to the temple sealer share very personal insights into the sacredness of the temple and of marriage with Jennifer and her new husband, I was filled with a sense of awe. I am still in awe, of the goodness of God.

The rest of the day proved just as beautiful. It was evident how much the couple adored one another. They glowed with happiness. Their big smiles never left their faces.

Fast forward to this morning. I found myself studying the Christlike attribute of patience, and my thoughts turned immediately to Jennifer's wedding day. Sometimes God doesn't answer our prayers right away because He wants us to learn patience. He wants us to learn to move forward with our lives, meanwhile trusting in His timing in providing the answers we seek.

God is our loving heavenly father, and He has a plan for every one of His children. Sometimes, like on the day Jennifer got married, it's fulfilling to look back and reflect on how He guided us to where we are now.

Earthquake! EARTHQUAKE!

In the Mexico MTC, we had regular earthquake drills, but I never felt any real quakes. On the other hand, in El Salvador, we frequently felt little, not-quite-earthquakes that we called temblores. They were never anything to journal about, except for one time in October:

It was about 10 pm in Cojutepeque. Hna Merrell and I had finished eating and planning and were almost ready for bed. I was standing at the sink washing dishes; my companion was sitting at her desk writing in her journal. Suddenly I became aware that the earth was rocking beneath my feet and called to Hna Merrell, "Hermana, do you feel it temblando...?"

Every other time, the temblores I experienced had only lasted for a second. My pulse quickened when I realized this quake was stronger and longer. I stumbled to the front room, where Hna Merrell was already on her feet with the keys.

"We'd better wait it out outside," Hna Merrell said, and together we walked to the door. Hna Merrell's hands were shaking as she struggled to fit the key in the lock. Less than a minute later, we stepped out into the warm night. Our neighbors, who had done the same thing, called to us to make sure the gringas were okay. The earth stopped shaking less than a minute later, we bade each another good night and disappeared back into our respective homes.

I wrote about it briefly in my journal and prayed fervently that night in my personal prayer that Hna Merrell and I would wake up and be able to get out should a stronger aftershock arrive in the middle of the night. But by the time Monday morning rolled around, I'd forgotten enough about it that I didn't even mention it in my weekly email home.

My journal entry reads:

"We just felt an honest-to-goodness earthquake. It lasted between 10 to 20 seconds (hard to tell when your heart's beating fast) and was the strongest I've ever felt here in El Salvador. We left our house quickly and stood in front while things normalized. Our vecinos had done the same thing." (Journal 3, 13 Oct 2014)

Celebrating a birthday with a prayer

In El Salvador, whenever someone has a birthday, their family always says a prayer for them. As missionaries, we were frequently asked to say the prayer.

The first time I saw it happen, I was puzzled and intrigued by the tradition. It didn't seem to be limited to members of just one church, but everyone of all different faiths (in all four areas where I served) followed it religiously. The words of the prayer varied, depending on who was saying it, but almost always included two key ideas:

1. "Thank you for permitting [insert name here] another year of life."
2. "Wilt Thou grant that [he/she] has many more years ahead."

When I woke up today, on the morning of my twenty-third birthday, my first thought was of my people in El Salvador. Logically, my second thought was that today I turn 23 years old and I incorporated their prayer tradition in my daily morning supplication to God.

Following the "Amen," I had a burst of inspiration. I think I understand now why the Salvadoreños say what they do in every birthday prayer. They are taught, seemingly from the cradle, a lesson that many people do not learn for a lifetime: that they must not take their lives for granted.

I spent 18 months living among them. Those experiences opened my eyes. They are precious and sacred to me. They cemented for me two truths:

1. God lives.
2. In life, it is much better to suffer believing in God than to suffer without any hope of redemption or resurrection. If we don't have hope in our bitter and dark moments that better and happier times will come, what are we living for? God and Jesus Christ are the only perfect Beings who cannot disappoint us. They are the only ones with the power to make us better than we are, and to return life to those who have died.

El Salvador is one of the most dangerous countries in the world because of gang violence. It's also filled with the most humble, faith-filled, resilient people I've ever known. In my life, I hope to value forever the lessons they taught me. One of the most basic lessons being not to take anything for granted, not even our own lives.

Las famosas pupusas

Today I gathered some words of advice from my friends in El Salvador about making pupusas... and drew on the handful of experiences I've had making pupusas... conscripted my mother and the sister missionaries to help me... and attempted to make pupusas!

Someone once told me you could mimic the taste of quesillo by mixing shredded mozzarella cheese with shredded parmesan cheese. I tried that, and I think it did turn out pretty similar. Just without the freshness taste.

The beans turned out great, if I do say so myself.

Next time, I'll add more onions, green pepper and garlic to the salsa.