Silent Nights

At last, here we were, Elder Staker and I, in our apartment (a place that I noted in my journal smelled like marijuana, an aroma familiar to me from Warped Tour and a 311 concert) on Lincoln Ave in Lansing, Michigan. It finally felt like my mission had officially begun. Elder Staker was as new to the area as I was; we replaced both missionaries who had been serving there. One of them had been having a lot of health problems, particularly with his back, and they had not been able to leave the apartment very much for the last few weeks that they had been there. Therefore, the apartment had the appearance of a place that had been constantly inhabited by two twenty-year old young men (interpret that how you will).

The area book (the records of who was being taught and all the work being done in the area) needed some help too. I think we only had two media referrals to follow up on, and one of them was at an address where no house existed anymore, and the other wasn’t a productive lead either. Our zone leader, Elder Adcox, filled us in on some important things to know about the area, but he didn’t have any specific information about any teaching that was occurring, so we were, in a lot of ways, beginning from scratch. For me, that was an exciting prospect.

But I’m getting ahead of myself. The first thing I need to do here is quote my journal, because it’s a fascinating look into my mindset during this completely unique experience I was having. This was the first time in my life that I had really been away from home for any extended period of time, and this is evidence of how I coped with that reality.

I’m sitting in a little apartment in Lansing, Michigan with my companion, Elder Staker. He is really cool, he plays bass, loves ska and well, played with The Knockouts and other bands as well [The Knockouts were a Utah ska band that played in the same battle of the bands as Rash one year; their drummer needed to borrow a snare drum and I happily let him use mine].

Today I had the opportunity of doing some door knocking and then later I taught the sixth new member discussion with an Elder Adcox and a member to a guy named Mark. He was really cool, I liked him a lot. I need to remember to pray for his grandpa who is going to be having double by-pass surgery tomorrow.

Elder Adcox was a drummer in a punk band in Arizona called Flouride, they opened for Rancid. I think that’s pretty cool.

I’m confident that I instigated all of the conversations that led to finding out that my companion and my zone leader were both into similar music as myself. I remember this being a boon to me. I felt like I was around kindred spirits. I hadn’t yet come to the understanding that similarities outside of the mission field meant next to nothing compared to the brotherhood that could be developed while having a common goal of preaching the gospel. That understanding came, little by little, throughout the next two years.

Those first few days in the field were filled with a lot. In fact, a lot of memories that my brain had spread out over the three months that Elder Staker and I served together in Lansing South, actually occurred between that first day and Christmas Day, just eight days later. This included the first time we taught a first discussion, and here’s how that happened.

Since the two media referrals that we followed up on didn’t amount to much, we decided to try the oldest missionary finding technique in the book, going door to door asking to talk with people about the gospel. On our apartment wall was a large street map of our area, and so we knelt and prayed to ask for guidance as to what street we should begin our search for someone to teach. We felt impressed to begin in a neighborhood that included Reo Ave, a little street a wound its way through a poor area of town. We met a number of people, some kinder to us than others, and among these was a woman named Ginger. Ginger had three small children. She and her husband worked long hours to try to support their family. She was very kind to us, and even felt to warn us against a part of town she felt would be dangerous for us to work in. “Stay away from Baker Street,” she cautioned. We didn’t teach her any discussions, but we did make plans to get her kids some Christmas presents and to return to try and teach the family.

That evening as we prayed about where to knock doors the next day, Elder Staker felt very strongly about a street a little north east of where we lived. Baker Street. We had a good laugh about that, and I was a little worried since Ginger had seemed so earnest in her warning against going there, but we decided that was where the Spirit was directing us, so that’s where we went, and it led to this journal entry:

December 21, 1999

Elder Holdaway’s first First Discussion. Wow! Oh wow! What can I say? It was the coolest, most awesome possible experience of my life. Well, actually, it could’ve been, because it was real! We were door knocking on Baker St. We came to a house, and the lady opened the door and we started talking to her and she let us in out of the cold. Elder Staker and I introduced ourselves, she said her name was Julie. Elder Staker asked if she’d like to hear the message that we had about Christ and she said, “Sure.” I don’t know if I’ve ever been more subtly taken back as when she said yes. I don’t think I knew quite what to do, so I sat down… The television was on and we neglected to ask her to turn it off, but it was okay, because the Spirit manifest itself anyway. Amongst The Price is Right, two little kids, and a dog that loved to jump on people, we taught her the First Discussion… When I got to the part about Joseph Smith the confusion, and then at last the First Vision, she looked shocked, but she was so intent. Elder Staker asked her how she felt when I told the story about the First Vision and she said she felt different. [He] asked how or what was different about the feeling and she said, “I felt warm inside.” I could’ve jumped up and shouted praises to the Lord right then… She felt so happy about the Holy Ghost and about the companionship of it and Moroni’s promise. She was awesome.

After we left Julie’s, we continued our knocking of doors on Baker Street, and we had the chance to share some things with a few other people. There is too much to share here, but suffice it to say, Baker Street proved to be a place of open hearts that day. We didn’t get to teach any of the people we contacted that day much more than what we initially shared with them, but the experience was a critical one for me as a new missionary. I had the chance to really share this message that I wanted to shout from the roof tops with people who had not heard it.

We did more than just knock doors those first few days, we met ward members, including the Gleason family, a sweet lady named Sister Flannery (I’ll have a lot to say about her in a later story), and Jon and Jackie Coronado. Our first Saturday there, we were asked to help a family in the ward move, and as we were walking into the house a man came out and said, “Which one of you is from Provo?” I answered that I was, and he grabbed my hand and said, “Jon Coronado, nice to meet you. You know my wife’s family, the Marvells.”

I couldn’t believe it. Yes! I knew that family. Jed Marvell was one of my best friends growing up, and when his mom found out I had received my call to Lansing, she told me to watch for her daughter and son-in-law. I kind of set that information aside in my brain, thinking the chances of actually serving in their area to be slim. But here I was. Brother Coronado was one of the greatest members I served around on my mission. He worked with us a lot, and was able to say things to me like, “Hey Elder Holdaway, I talked to your dad today. He’s really proud of what you’re doing.”

Brother Coronado also played an important role in giving me an identity I would use years into the future. One day we came home and listened to our answering machine to hear Brother Coronado’s voice greet us, “Elders Stake-in-Shake and Holdinator! It’s Jon Coronado…” I loved that nickname, enough that I use it as my online name for nearly everything that I do on these interwebs.

It was also a lot of fun getting to know the other missionaries in our district, Elder Garrison and Elder Webster. Both football players, Elder Webster a lineman (and built like it too), and were in the habit of drinking protein drinks, eating tuna straight out of the can (sometimes with a little bar-beque sauce for flavor), and lifting a lot of weights. Elder Garrison was in the last few weeks of his mission, having recently served as a zone leader. I really enjoyed working with them, and especially going to dinner appointments with them. It was amazing to feel this sense of brotherhood with people who I had just met a few days before.

Elder Staker, Elder Holdaway, Elder Webster, and Elder Garrison

The other distinct memory I have of those first few days is a combination of every evening intermingled into a single image. It was the time of Winter Solstice, and the days were short in Michingan, even shorter than they are in Utah in the middle of the winter. The sun would set around 4:00, and darkness would cover the city early. By the time it was 8:00 or 9:00 it felt as if everything shut down, especially in the residential neighborhoods we would walk through. Hardly any cars drove by, and we were typically the only people out on the streets. The snow would fall in huge, quiet flakes to the ground and we would walk and talk about the gospel and so many other things. It often brought the tunes of Christmas Carols to my mind, you know, the kind of carols you find in a hymn book, the ones about the birth of Jesus Christ. It was magnificently beautiful and a memory that I cherish.

(These stories are taking a brief break and will resume in about two weeks.)