The story behind Dink C (Part 3 – the end)

Initially, every p-day, all three Elders would razz Lane while in the grocery store about him purchasing Dink and not shelling out a dime for something better.  But even our constant badgering wouldn’t sway his decision to make the switch.  One week Lane ran out of his packets before p-day and since we didn’t typically go to the grocery store any other day of the week, I gladly gave him one of my packets to drink.  He was amazed by the taste.  He could not believe that the water and granules had actually mixed together.  I guess he thought that Dink was just one of the cultural differences he would have to live with for two years.  That was all it took, finally Lane had crossed over.

Time went by and soon I was transferred down South on an 8hr plane ride to Tierra del Fuego.  I would spend the next 7 months on the island.  At about the 5^th month in, my companion and I had completely knocked each door in our area.  It was extremely difficult to get excited about re-knocking doors where you knew the people who would answer and what you would hear. (“Didn’t I tell you to never come back here again?”)  It was a daily struggle to find people to teach and we had to resort to creative methods to do so.  About this same time of discouragement and constant struggle, Lane was called as one of the 4 Assistants to the President and I received a no return address, unmarked letter in the pouch that had an empty Dink C packet in it with a smiley face on the inside of the letter.  This little letter and the Dink C did wonders to brighten my spirits.  It helped me to continue on in the area and to still find success for another two months.  The packet of Dink got passed back and forth for the rest of my mission.  The funny thing was it always seemed to come back to me at a time when I needed a pick-me-up. 

The final month or so of my mission was the most difficult time I had to date in my life.  My health was declining; I was losing weight, was in constant pain, and had basically stopped eating to quell the pain.  As a result of the culmination of all of these things, I wound up in a hospital.  (My path to the hospital is is a miracle story of its own, for another time.)  This time in my mission was very defeating to me, I even started questioning what little faith I had after reading that Brigham Young was able to rise from his death bed to serve a mission.  When the final decision came to send me home, I was a mess.  As I packed my things, I found in my journal the packet a Dink.  Lane had somehow placed it in there before I had left.  It once again picked up my spirits and continues to do so every time I think about our history with Dink.