A little old lady got out of a taxi and looked right at us. I don't know how I knew, but I felt it in all of my heart that it was Juana. So I went right up to her and asked her if her name was Juana...and guess what...it was. She so eagerly asked us to come by the next day, so we set an appointment, shook hands, and promised that we would go by the following day.
The next day, we headed over to Juana´s house. We found the gate and door open. We saw Juana sitting by the window. As we approached, her husband saw us, got up from the stairs he was sitting on and leaned out the door. He yelled, "I don´t want you guys to ever come back to my house". We only caught a slim glance at Juana who had her head down in ashamement. He then slammed the door. I was kind of embarrassed by the scene he had created, because a lot of people saw. We lowered our heads and slowly walked off.
A couple days later we were on that same street. I remember passing Juana´s house and remembering that bitter experience. As we got to the end of the street, some man came up to us and asked what happened a couple of days ago at that house. He had seen Juana´s husband slam the door. We told him that we weren't really sure what exactly had happened either. He looked at us, sincerely, and said, why don't you both come by my house and share something with me.
That's when I realized that Heavenly Father never leaves us down. He always picks us up, he always pushes us along. I don't think the gospel is about walking through darkness, I think Christ is extending out his hand and saying walk with me, we will do it together. I am grateful for every single experience I have had in the mission. I have seen my testimony build, grow, and fortify. I would take a million rejections if just one person would have the opportunity to hear our message. Three years ago, that one person, was me.