Everything was on track for me to be on a mission by the earliest possible time, which was my nineteenth birthday. I had even heard that a young man could turn nineteen in the Missionary Training Center as long as he was nineteen years old by the time he entered the mission field. For English speaking missionaries this was a one month time. For foreign speaking missionaries this was two months. Yes, I was on track to being a missionary in a few more months. I was sustained in stake conference in June to become an elder and my Dad ordained me to that Priesthood Office on June 29, 1980. And then it happened. Russia invaded Afghanistan.
I had to register for the draft and I thought I would be called into military duty. Instead of preaching the gospel of peace I’d be shooting Russians. And since our nuclear weapons were pointed at them, and theirs at us, I didn’t have much hope for the future. As it turned out the worst thing that happened as far as the United States was concerned was that we boycotted the 1980 Moscow Olympics. The absence of our athletes was apparently enough a statement that the United States did not approve of the Russian invasion.
So in mid August I had missionary recommendation interviews with Bishop Kenneth D. Hunter and my Stake President, Ben B. Banks. And then we turned in my mission papers. On August 21 my mission call came. It was in a gray envelope. The papers inside where folded in half. I was fixing myself a cheese sandwich for lunch. The mail came and Mom got it. Somehow I knew that the mission call had come before she even said anything. Mom walked into the kitchen. The hopes and dreams of twenty years of marriage sparkled in her eyes and now her first son had received his mission call. She handed it to me. Time seemed to stand still for a moment. We looked at each other as I fingered the envelope. I knew inside there was a letter signed by President Spencer W. Kimball himself, President of the Church, calling me to a particular mission with the date when I was to report to the Missionary Training Center. I continued to hold the envelope. Mom was brimming with excitement. “Well, open it!”
“Mom, I can’t. I’ve got to wait until everyone is here.” Mom called Dad and told him that Billy had his mission call. We set on a time in the early evening when everyone would be able to be there. I called Melanie and told her. I wanted her to be there, as well. Then I had an assignment at the Murray Bishops Storehouse to help clean up. So I went to do that. When I came home I was very nervous. I went to my room and grasping the mission call envelope I knelt and prayed. “Where am I going? I know I’ll find out soon enough. Oh. Let me be accepting of this mission call and where I’m to be assigned.”
Finally the hour arrived. I sat in the orange rocking chair in the front room. Everyone else was seated on the couch or on chairs brought in from the kitchen. Then I opened it. I pulled out the mission call. I looked at the location I was to be sent to. And then I jumped up and ran downstairs. Our TRS-80 Model I computer was already turned on. I typed the word BRAZIL into the computer and pushed enter. Big letters proudly heralded the words, “I’M GOING TO BRAZIL!!!!!!!!”
Everyone followed me down the stairs as quickly as they could. Karen was the first and she looked at the screen and started screaming. Whenever I heard the word Brazil, I thought of first the Amazon River. So I immediately figured I was going to the Amazon River. The only other thing I knew was that there was a temple of the Church in Brazil. I thought maybe it was on the bank of the Amazon River. We examined the mission call letter more closely. We saw the date I was to report to the Missionary Training Center, October 30, 1980. And the name of the mission, Brazil, São Paulo. On the third reading of the letter I picked up the word “South” on the name of the mission. “So, Brazil, São Paulo South.” Then I thought maybe the temple and my mission are on the South bank of the Amazon River. We looked in a large world atlas at where I was going, but for some reason it didn’t really sink in where São Paulo really was. I was later to learn that São Paulo is the third largest city in the world and thousands of miles away from the Amazon River. I learned also that there are two missions with headquarters in that city, the south and the north missions. Brazil itself had a phenomenal number of six missions!
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