Mexico and Me, India and I: Infinite Blessings

How many people get to say that they are a returned missionary at age 17?

I know it only lasted two weeks, and not every particular detail matched the life of a returned missionary, but I was there. I was there. I was given the opportunity and blessing to prepare for my full-time mission, in the mission field.

I went out with this flawed and slightly arrogant idea that I would be able to change lives and impress my companion with how much I knew and how great my desire was to serve. I came back humbled, having been taught by soft-spoken, spiritual giant of a companion, having been taught by the loving and giving members of the ward and having been taught by the real people of México, the humble and the broken, who are willing to give everything to their God.

I finished this mini-mission in exactly two weeks, coming home on Friday. My companion and I nearly cried as we parted and exchanged Thank Yous and Photos. Darling Celsa wouldn't let me leave her home unless I promised to come back and she ensured me that she could find me a nice, handsome Mexican esposo. We checked Vanessa's house twice the day before I left, but we never found her. I waved goodbye to all the kids that knew me and made Hna. Gutierrez promise me that she would still say Hi to them after I left. It was without a doubt, a bittersweet experience.

I stepped onto the bus to Cuernavaca all alone. Thinking of nothing else but my mission and wondering if I had done enough, I casually slipped into my seat next to a man I did not know. All my life I have wanted to be able to start up conversation with the people sitting next to me on a bus or plane, but I've always been afraid. It's just a weird goal of mine. And Friday, I finally accomplished it. In my still imperfect Spanish, I asked him where he was from and with that start we were able to have at least a thirty minute conversation. When he asked me where I was from, he was obviously surprised to hear San Diego, Ca, so I couldn't help but explain about my mini-mission. I was so bold in my testimony that I even started into the first discussion, but then felt that it wasn't the right time. Nonetheless, he couldn't help but recognize my constant smile, and asked me several times Why I'm so happy. Having already borne my testimony to him, I had no fear in telling him the real reasons. Because of the gospel that I have, because I know truth, because I know who I am and I know God loves me. No I didn't get his address or give him a Book of Mormon, but I think he'll remember me. And one day when he's lost or when the Elders come and knock on his door, he'll be more receptive to the truth.

Hna. Gutierrez and I talked about that alot: Planting the seed. I only had two weeks, so I didn't get to watch all the development and growth and change of my beloved investigators, but I did my part. Even if my constant smile or my imperfect Spanish or my short, firm testimony was all that I left behind, it was worth it. God allowed me to be His representative, to bear His name with my own. And I will be eternally grateful.

Hermana Davis

La Iglesia de JESUCRISTO de los Santos de los Últimos Días