Curt Whittaker

1980-82

Serving my mission in Bolivia was one of the hardest things I’ve done. And certainly one of the most rewarding. My family was generally inactive through my teenage years. There were times when I was the only one going to church, and had to get a ride every Sunday. But then my next older brother suddenly turned around and went on a mission. My parents started coming back to church. And then my father, who by then had brain cancer, ordained me an Elder (the first ordinance he performed for me since my baby blessing); then my parents went with me to the temple to receive my endowments. My father passed away a few days after that. Corresponding with President Hill before I left for the MTC, he was so reassuring and uplifting. Then I knew for sure that leaving my mother to serve a mission was still the right thing to do. 

I think only other missionaries from Bolivia understand what it was like there. Getting sunburned in winter, eating stuff you can’t even describe, getting sick - gastrointestinal and otherwise, losing weight, having appointments fall through, not always getting along with companions - gringo or otherwise, having dogs try to bite you and people throw rocks at you. There were many disappointments. Teaching and baptizing interested converts, seeing their lives change with hope and love, having fun with companions and friends, getting letters and packages (even if you did have to go through the most incredible bureaucracy to get packages out of customs), enjoying the amazing scenery, playing with beautiful children with sun- and wind-burned cheeks, hearing and bearing testimony of the Lord Jesus Christ and His restored gospel, realizing you were stronger than you thought you were. There were so many more triumphs than disappointments; it was worth it. 

When I had first arrived, President Hill assigned me to work with Elder Bob Flint, an Aymara elder, so we could cover all contingencies with both Spanish and Aymara. I felt Elder Flint was pretty hard on me, following the schedule of Aymara elders (out the door at 6:30), and making sure I worked at memorizing charlas all afternoon, while he hung out with his Aymara elder friends. I still think it’s kind of funny how the Aymara elders seemed to go out of their way to be “tough.” For example, Elder Flint would break the ice on the rain barrel and wash his hair with ice cold water in the morning. I found, with a little time management, I could heat the water to wash my hair. I guess I was just “soft.” But Elder Flint also pushed me to work beyond my comfort zone. The first time he encouraged me to approach someone sweeping the dirt outside his house, it turned into a discussion and later my first baptism. Toward the end of my mission I learned that that brother, Simon Mamani, was then the branch president in Rio Seco. 

There are so many moments, so many stories, so many friends. The last month or so serving in the mission office, though, was the hardest. With President Maestas out of the country dealing with his diabetes, Elders Bons and Drennan died. It was confusing and difficult being asked to be so grown-up so quickly, working with the other office elders to take care of their bodies, and miraculously get them home in just a few days, before all our transportation options were severely limited by the Christmas holidays. The hardest single day was when, using a textbook from the local university library, I helped the coroner pin down the cause of death. Then, as we were preparing to ship the bodies, the mortician realized he couldn’t remember who was in which box. So I worked with him to open the caskets and identify the bodies. After that shock, I sat in the mission car and wept. But the tension was broken, and I was able to continue preparations, including writing personal letters to the parents and working with others to prepare a memorial service. 

When I got home from my mission a month or so later, I was still shook up. Plus, my mom had remarried, so there was a strange man living in my house, who, after marrying my mother, lost his charm and became lazy and mean. I didn’t come out of my room much, except to go to school. And I saw everything in such a negative, pessimistic light, wondering how God could allow such things to happen. But remembering blessed experiences on my mission, including reading some of my journal entries, and praying as I had done on my mission, I had some of the most clear, direct, and powerful inspiration I have ever had. I wrote the words I received during one such moment of inspiration, including: “Yes, you are but one of billions. But if you didn’t matter, do you suppose I would have brought you this far? Not only were you born in this earth, but you were born in the covenant, with a rich heritage and an equally rich future. You have the fullness of the Gospel. I have given you loved-ones and friends—family, peers, teachers, leaders—all those who have cared for you and helped point you toward greatness. And if all else fails, you still have me; for I shall never leave you.” I knew that President Hill was one of those leaders who had given me strength, courage, and ideas how to move forward. 

After my mission, I went to BYU, rooming with one of my companions, Steve Crandall. I majored in Musical Theater, but later changed to focus on linguistics, getting my degree in Spanish Translation, and picking up some German and Italian along the way. I married while at BYU, and we had two daughters. Sadly, that marriage ended in divorce. I later married my high school sweetheart, who brought her two daughters to the marriage. We raised our family in Oregon. After college, I ended up working in the computer field, mostly as a trainer and producer of training products, including working at Southern and Eastern Oregon Universities. My Master’s degree is in educational technology leadership, and I was an early adopter/trainer in online teaching.

After 9/11, I longed to serve my country, helping us to make more friends than enemies. So I joined the Department of State as a Foreign Service Officer. As part of the process, I had to choose a career emphasis. Based on my career experience - including the last 6 months of my mission serving as secretary in the office - I chose the Management track. I’ve been doing that job, helping to manage embassies and consulates, for 10 years now. We have lived and served in Honduras, Mexico, Iraq, Germany, and now in Washington, DC. This overseas career has enabled me to visit numerous countries in Europe, the Middle East, and throughout Latin America. It’s also allowed us to share the gospel and serve in a variety of church callings in all of these locations. My next assignment will take us to Georgetown, Guyana later this summer, where we will live for the next two years.

Like all of us, I’ve had my ups and downs, successes and failures, struggles and triumphs. But I can say for sure that many of the strengths and character I used throughout my life I built in those vulnerable and formative years on my mission. To name one: I was always afraid (based on childhood poverty, lack of confidence, and actual financial struggles) that I would not be able to provide for myself or my family. But one day it really struck me: no matter how poor I might be, I will never be as poor as the people I knew in Bolivia. That was a truly tangible and beneficial lesson. 

I also learned from President Hill to be calm, optimistic, and loving, and to trust in a powerful and loving Heavenly Father. And those qualities, which I am still learning and trying to emulate, have been a true foundation throughout my life. 

(The pictures I’ve posted with this: my photos from the mission bulletin board, at the beginning and partway through the mission; the “before and after” photos I pasted in my journal - the first one taken just before I went on my mission, and the second one for laughs, which was part of a theater makeup class; a self-portrait I took in the chapel below the mission office; a self-portrait at a sidewalk cafe in Munich, Germany in 2014.)