“I find myself tired once again physically but more emotionally drained than ever before. Something has been taken from me, something that has opened my eyes to many things, but mostly the numerous amount of blessings in my (life). I can’t believe all the crap in the world! Which brings me to the question, why am I so blessed? What did I do to be so blessed?” -Jan. 31st, 2004
Sometimes in life we are shown the grander scheme of things. I recall this time on my mission, after the beautiful/ cold time of year (Christmas) when we focus more so on others. As a missionary you are constantly striving to focus on others. I wrote this passage in my journal after my “greeny” and I tracked all day long, just before we felt we should make our way home we were allowed in to a humble apartment by a gentleman at the brink of disaster. We attempted to teach him about the restoration of the gospel but realized that wasn’t what he needed at the moment. I simply allowed the man to talk… and talk he did. It seemed more of a confession the way his life story poured out. Amongst the man’s sobbing and our consolation the new missionary struggled to keep up with the thick dialect that wasn’t taught in the Missionary Training Center (we were taught ‘hoch deutsch’ not ‘wienerisch’). After learning of the man’s horrible upbringing with an abusive father and many problems that have seemed to compound themselves over time. He explained that he was just about to have to go back to jail because of mistakes of his own and decided that life wasn’t worth living anymore. He prepared his vice of choice (heroin and cocaine) and before he could go through with it we showed up at the door.
A long discussion ensued with a challenge given and an appointment to meet again. I recall being worried that he wouldn’t make it to our next appointment and it dawned on me that I wore a ring my parents had sent me for Christmas. The ring is your typical ‘CTR’ ring with German lettering ‘WDR’ (Whaele Das Recht = Choose The Right). I offered him my ring and told him what it stood for. I also told him I wanted it back. I thought that if he had to return the ring he would focus on that one thing and make it through the next day or two without thoughts of suicide. This guy was a big guy, not necessarily fat, just large in stature. It was a perfect reminder because it was too small for all of his fingers but too big for his pinkie, so in order for him to wear it without it falling off he had to clench his hand in a fist. A constant reminder having your hand clenched at all times.
As my companion and I walked home I looked up at the sky and tried to conceal my tears. To this day I’m not sure how much my companion understood. I had taken a beating from each of the man’s words which depicted his nightmarish childhood, stories of a despicable father beating his mother, bringing home other women and throwing the nicely prepared meals in his mother’s face. It was a grotesque display of humanity that left the son tired and scarred. I burst into to tears as I thought about the many blessings that have been given me. A loving family, good friends and many opportunities to succeed is only the beginning of my fortune. I will never forget this lesson of gratitude.
That night I was required to call my mission president to ask permission to continue meeting with this man because of the man’s addictions and other various problems. To my dismay my mission president denied the request and felt it was too dangerous for us to return. I was upset but realized that he had to ensure the safety of over 170 missionaries, all of which are someone else’s children. It was disappointing because the purpose of a mission is to serve others and bring them closer to Christ and that is a difficult thing to do in my mission. I continued my mission and tried not to think about the man anymore. It was close to a month later when I was to being transferred to a new area that the man found some other missionaries. He chased them down in the subway and told them that Elder Holbrook needs his ring back and to tell him thanks. I never got my ring back but I’m glad that he knows he can go to any of the missionaries for help. I only hope he is doing better and dealing with his past more constructively.
(In the apartment in Vienna after making calls and a long day)
I work with Chris Blinzinger at the ER and he used to live in Manassa. I told him I would make sure to go see his name on the Jack Dempsey statue. 
This is Jessica’s cousin, Tori. I’d never been to a Moto-X, but she did awesome. Later some pro guys did some sweet tricks. 
Jessica’s Grandparent’s house where we stayed for the trip.
I’m excited that we were able to go and even more excited that Andrew, my younger brother, will soon be a part of the Durfee/ Sowards clan. He’ll be the new guy next year if he is able to make it. 
