The Return of Elder Jones

Missionaries are to be in their respective apartments at 9 or 9 p.m., engaged in productive activities like journal writing, daily planning, and nothing that involves shooting small animals with pellet guns. Elders Buckley and Plott had left long ago, leaving my companion and me free of the temptation to engage in the latter activity. However, in their wake came Elders Su'a and Taylor.

Su'a, a burly Polynesian with the belief that rules were mostly for white boys from Utah, clashed with his companion, a white boy from Utah. Somehow, the four of us became great friends, possibly because our apartments were an stone's throw by Elder Su'a away from each other.

One night, Elders Su'a and Taylor came over before nightly planning to chat. They often did this, as though they lived in constant fascination of how life must be in a converted horse stable. Our conversation went from good lessons we'd all taught today to crazy people we'd met (they had an investigator who'd enlisted them to dig out his yard to unearth all the secret government listening devices), girlfriends at home, urban legends about our mission president, and whether there were really lizard colonies underneath our apartment. At about 10 we realized we hadn't yet called the district leader, whose job it was to phone the zone leaders and tell them everyone was safe and accounted for. This system is designed in part to keep us all accountable and obeying the rules, but it also helps foster unity.

The realization that we'd forgotten to phone in, however, came only as a result of the zone leaders' calling us.

"You elders having a good night?" asked the first zone leader, Elder Blevins. Elder Patten had switched the phone onto speaker so we could all feel the zone leaders' wrath equally.

"Yeah," Elder Patten said, his voice saturated with false amiability.

"Are the other elders there?" asked the other zone leader ... my trainer, Elder Jones.

"Yeah," I admitted.

"Can I talk to Elder Kunz alone?" Elder Jones asked.

I switched off the speaker and took the phone into the other room.

"Elder Blevins has really been helping me understand obedience," Elder Jones confided when I was alone. "He's helping me see what perfect obedience and why I should follow it."

"Yeah?"

"Kunzie," he said, "I want the best for you on your mission, and having the other elders past curfew is a little thing, but the little things matter, too."

I didn't say anything.

The fact that Elder Jones — the same elder who had once watched The Man From Snowy River while on exchanges while I was with him — was lecturing me about obedience didn't seem hypocritical. His contrition could be heard even through the phone, and I wanted to make him proud.

He was, after all, my mission "father."

"I'll send them home," I said.

"Thanks," said Elder Jones.

When the other elders left the apartment, I sat on my chair for a long time.