Day 98
E. Hopkinson checking in:
I'll start with a happening I forgot to tell, it was the first few weeks in Santa Maria. Don't worry, it all ends well...
So it's my first division, or 2-day period traveling and working in another city, in this case São Borgia (1.5 hrs away). I left the apartment with Elder Weiser for a 15/20 minute walk to the Rodoviaria (highway bus station).
We start out walking calmly, and I (being brand new) don't remember where the bus station is. Elder Weiser's a veteran in this city so I never gave it a thought. I didn't realize we were lost until he suddenly started sprinting.
Mind you I had no idea whether he'd seen something dangerous or just really wanted to sit down at the station. We ran several blocks, I having made the mistake of packing heavy for São Borgia, was sweating while trying to manage a shoulder bag swinging around, and a backpack weighted with books and travel stuff.
We stopped at a house to ask for specific directions and immediately took off sprinting.
There's a taxi service that the missionaries here will usually call, but that was unavailable. At this point, there were just minutes until the bus was scheduled to leave. Even by sprinting, we wouldn't have made it. We stopped at an intersection, and to my surprise Elder Weiser started waving at a military police truck at the other side of the stoplight.
The area around Santa Maria has a large military presence because (among other motives) of the various neighboring borders very close by, so military vehicles are a common sight. Itaqui has a population of 40k, and the military population makes up a noticeable, while still minority portion of this.
One day they had several APC's and tents set up at a park close to our house for who knows what, some sort of training. I thought about taking a picture but I'm not sure if that'd be a good idea.
Back to the story. The truck comes to a full stop and we run across the road. I'd imagine they were relieved to see we just needed a ride instead of something more serious, because people frantically running up for help to military vehicles isn't always a good sign.
I tried briefly to read their faces as we got into the truck but they didn't seem either annoyed or interested. They were, thankfully willing to drop us off. At that time, I wasn't sure if this had ever happened before but I was told by other missionaries afterwards that it was definitely a first.
So we ended up with a ride to the bus station within just a minute or two for me to rush to the counter for a ticket and sprint to the bus itself.
After that point all of the Itaqui missionaries know the military police trucks as "free taxis".
Thankfully since then everything's been fairly routine in terms of travel.
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As for this week, I also had the privilege to perform my first baptism. A young (11 yrs) investigator of ours named Andria, daughter of Alissa (member) and Roger (non-member, also investigator). Her understanding of the need for baptism and the complete meaning of her new life as a member of the Church of Jesus Christ are beyond her years.
It took me three times to get full immersion, but all's well!
I had brought everything to the chapel I'd need for the night except for a spare white button-up shirt. So I walked home with a damp shirt under my jacket in the cold dark. I'll be sure to remember that *small* detail next time...
Until next week,
Love,
Elder Hopkinson
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